Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [41]
She stepped back and flashed through the gestures that would dispel magic. The green-clad nobleman disappeared, and in his place stood an female elf with skin the color of blushing pearls and long, red-gold hair.
A faerie elf.
Deep-seated fear and loathing bubbled to the surface of Liriel's mind like acid. Liriel spun to Fyodor. "What are you waiting for? Kill it!" she shrieked.
The Rashemi stepped between the two females. "Perhaps you should explain," he told the elf.
"I'm Sharlarra Vindrith, apprentice to Laerel Silverhand. She's Qiluй Veladorn's sister."
"Qiluй sent you?" Liriel demanded, peering around Fyodor.
"Indirectly," the elf said, also leaning to one side. "She sent word to you, and you sent word to Danilo-"
"And he sent a faerie elfin his place," the drow said in disgust. She crossed her arms and glared at Fyodor. "You were right. He wasn't to be trusted. Go ahead and gloat."
The Rashemi shook his head and turned back to Sharlarra. "Does Lord Thann know you are wearing his sword?"
She glanced at the jeweled weapon on her hip. "He may have figured it out by now. Chances are he's still fuming over the loss of the gems and magical items, but he'll get over it." She shrugged and smiled. "They always seem to."
Fyodor turned to Liriel. "In my land, the witches have spells that allow one person to appear as another. To do so, you must carry a weapon used by the person whose form you wish to wear. Perhaps Lady Laerel taught her apprentice such a spell."
"I picked it up on my own," Sharlarra said, "but otherwise you've got it right. Can we get on with this?"
The drow gave a cautious nod. Sharlarra took a silver cuff from her ear and held it out. "Danilo stole this from Laerel, and I stole it from him. It'll take you both right to Qiluй."
Liriel took the little hoop and examined the intricate carvings. The markings were familiar and unmistakably drow in origin. The spell they shaped was indeed a variation of a powerful travel magic. Entwined among the magical marks was Qiluй's personal sigil. No wizard but she could carve that mark without courting swift magical retribution.
She slid the cuff into place on her ear and spoke Qiluй's name. An oval of magic shimmered into sight, a gossamer fabric that was at once black and silver.
"Do you need anything else?" the elf asked.
For a long moment Liriel studied the faerie. "Why are you helping me?"
Sharlarra shrugged. "Danilo could have done it, but he'd end up paying for it."
"And you won't."
"Let's just say I was ready to move on, anyway."
"So you did this for him," the drow said, still trying to understand.
"And for me. Life was getting a little slow in Blackstaff Tower. I was ready for something different."
Inspiration struck. "Here's something that might suit you," Liriel said dryly. "A sea elf named Xzorsh follows this ship." She pronounced the name carefully, a sharp click followed by a lingering, sibilant sweep. "He wants to learn the Art. I suspect his talent is small, but he has the sort of dedication that ignores limitations. Can you find him a teacher?"
"A sea elf mage," Sharlarra mused then shrugged again. "Why not? Consider it done."
A faint tapping came from the other side of the hull, a rapid, rhythmic pattern that shaped a jaunty tune sung on nearly every ship asail.
Liriel's eyes widened. "The merrow alarm!" she said, naming the signal for impending attack-and the monsters that approached the ship. "Xzorsh was right on the mark about the illithid's messengers!"
"Sea ogre messengers?" murmured Sharlarra. "Assassins, more likely."
"See?" Liriel retorted. "You got the message already."
"Oh. Good point."
"There will be battle, and soon," Fyodor said glancing reluctantly from the magical gate to the cabin's door. "We cannot in good conscience leave the ship now."
Sharlarra waved them toward the gate. "Go along. I'll stand in for you. Really," she said, responding to the Hashemi's dubious frown. "It'll be fun."
Drow and elf exchanged a quick, cautious grin.