Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [81]
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"He will sing of the downfall and death of Liriel Baenre," Gorlist added. He paused, then inclined his head in a small, reluctant bow. "If that is still your wish."
Your purpose and mine are in accord.
Brindlor related this response. Gorlist smiled. "I thought they might be."
Bring your full forces to the troll caves near the Glowing Dra-colich Cavern. I will meet you there.
The gleam in Gorlist's eyes abruptly dimmed when he heard these instructions. "You will join us? There is no need for you to endanger yourself in a long tunnel march, much less in the Night Above! The ruby gem will enable you to see all through a death-singer's eyes."
In time I might find his particular vision useful or at least amusing. Until then, you will both do as I say. Gromph Baenre himself will see that you are well paid.
A searing heat flared high and hot in the ruby, then the painful presence receded.
"She's gone," Brindlor said with relief, speaking his own words at last. He turned furious eyes on Gorlist. "What is this about? The gem, the female? The archmage? I am to sing a Baenre princess's deathsong to an audience of her own blood? Why didn't you tell me we were working for Gromph Baenre? I could have cut my own throat and saved the great archmage the inconvenience of a bloodied dagger."
"Until this very moment, I didn't know about Gromph Baenre's interest," Gorlist said. "As to the other matter, this female, Shakti Hunzrin, gave that gem to my father, the wizard Nisstyre. They worked together until his death. My father's task is now mine."
"I'd prefer that your father's gem was now yours," Brindlor grumbled.
The warrior shrugged. "You chose to become a bard. Is it not said that all great art is born of suffering?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
borderlands
Merdrith stood on the docks of Kront, looking out over the deceptively calm waters of Ashane. A short, thick-bodied Ashanathi fisherman stood a few paces away, eyeing him with speculation. Despite the woolen cap concealing his head tattoos, the soot darkening his thin crimson beard, and his rough woodsman's garb, Merdrith had the look of Thay's wizard nobility. Red Wizards were slain on sight in Rashemen and were none too welcome in the bordering countries.
"You traveling alone?" the man asked.
"Passage for one," Merdrith confirmed.
"It'll cost you. I wasn't planning to dock in Rashemen and won't be coming near to any port town. I can set you ashore on the edge of the Ashenwood, about a day's walk south of Immilmar. Best I can do," he said defensively.
The wizard understood completely. While the fisherman didn't wish to lose a potential fare, neither did he want to risk angering his powerful neighbors. No doubt the wretch intended to stay overnight in Immilmar. He could sell the day's catch and warn the local fyrra of the suspicious outlander sighted walking northward along the shore. As it turned out, the proposed destination suited his purposes perfectly.
"Will ten Thesken gold suffice?" he asked, holding up a small deerskin bag.
The sailor's eyes widened with avarice. He snatched the offered payment and offered a gap-toothed grin. "Brunzel will stow your gear. Take a seat, get yourself a tarp cloak. In this season the winds coming off the Ashane could freeze the blood of a white dragon."
Merdrith already knew this. He had last stood on the banks of the Ashane in mid winter, as part of a band of Red Wizards charged with the suicidal task of attacking a witches' watch-tower and keeping the guardians occupied long enough to distract them from the main invading forces. Contrary to all expectation, the magic of these few Red Wizards had prevailed over the tower's witches.
Even though it shouldn't have.
This unexpected success still puzzled and intrigued Merdrith. It had inspired him to commit the first truly impulsive act of his life. He had killed his fellow wizards and claimed the tower's treasures for himself. A treasonous act, to be sure, but had he succeeded in his purpose he could have returned to his homeland