Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [55]
Blue light flared and sizzled its way along the spider web, darting from one web to another. The drow flung her head to one side, squeezing her eyes shut against the blazing destruction, clapping one hand over her nose to mute the stench of burning spiders.
Hours passed, or perhaps moments. She felt Fyodor's hand close on her ankle and pull her down. She wriggled out of his comforting arms and strode forward, not sparing a glance at the charred bodies. Fyodor followed without comment, as if he understood that the breaking of a life-long taboo had left her emotions so brittle than a touch, even his, might shatter her composure.
The rest of the trip passed without serious incident. Within the hour, they found the shaft Qiluй's servant had described and managed to climb its deceptively smooth walls.
Liriel clung to the last handhold and tapped on the wooden ceiling. The hatch swung away. A beautiful elf face, framed by red-gold hair and backlit by thoughtfully dim candlelit, thrust into the opening.
Sharlarra greeted the drow with a comrade's grin. She seized Liriel's wrist and pulled her up with surprising ease.
The drow took stock of her surroundings. They were in a small room walled and floored with dark wood. The yeasty smell of ale permeated the air. A tavern, most likely. Another human, a burly, balding man who wore a publican's apron over a warrior's bulk, helped Fyodor into the room.
Liriel shoved a handful of soot-laden hair off her face. "How did you find us?"
The elf showed her a large, well-cut gem. "This came from your share of the dragon's hoard. With it I was able to trace you to the ship then follow your path here to the Yawning Portal Tavern."
The drow's eyes lit with interest. "I'd like to learn that spell."
"Another time," Sharlarra murmured, glancing at the older man. "The first order of business is to get you two out of the city. I brought gloves to cover your hands, fashionable cloaks to pull over your heads. I have a spell that will change your appearance to that of a human lady, and Durham-our kind host and the proprietor of this fine establishment-has two horses, saddled and provisioned, awaiting you in the stable behind this tavern."
"Horses," Liriel said with distaste.
"Well, I thought that giant lizards might be a tad conspicuous," Sharlarra said with a quick grin. "The road out of the East Gate crosses a stream. After the bridge, veer north and follow the stream to its source, a spring in the hills of a small forest. I'll meet you there and see you on the next part of your journey."
Fyodor came to Liriel's side and offered his hand. "Come to Rashemen," he said softly. "If it is adventure and friendship you seek, there is no better place to find it."
The elf, looking oddly touched, took his hand in both of hers. "Safe home," she bade them.
The pair nodded to Durham and slipped quietly out the back door. The innkeeper turned a somber gaze upon the elf.
"Your master the archmage isn't going to like this."
She sent Durham a hopeful smile. "Does he have to know?"
"He always seems to."
Sharlarra sighed. "Good point. In that case, I'd better revise the terms of my will before I pack. You'll be remembered in it, have no fear of that."
The man chuckled and gave her cheek a fatherly pat. "Off with you."
He waited until Sharlarra had left before easing the heavy wooden cover back into place and carefully filling in the crack with powder from a sack he carried on his belt.
The substance seemed to melt into the wood, obscuring any trace of the hidden opening. It was a gift from Waterdeep's arch-mage, a long-time friend who had never quite approved of Durham's self-appointed role as guardian to the gates of Under-mountain. Khelben Arunsun would certainly disapprove of his apprentice's sponsorship of the pretty little drow and her Rashamaar companion.
Durham, however, understood this impulse perfectly.