Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [91]
His companion hooted with raucous mirth and clapped him on the back. Chadrik threw off the man's hand.
"We've still to go to the City," he grumbled. "There's little enough to laugh about behind those walls."
The other man sobered abruptly. The City of the Dead, a large section of Waterdeep surrounded by walls and gates and magic, had been the city's cemetery since time out of mind. Many rich and ancient tombs lay behind those walls, walls that conspired to keep out all those who would despoil these tombs. The walls also served to keep the restless dead contained within.
The hearse slowed to a decent pace, and the creak of iron gates announced their arrival at the City of the Dead. The two men hopped down from the hearse and presented the gatekeeper with forged papers naming the dead elf and her intended tomb.
The official studied the papers, gave the men an odd, almost pitying look, and waved them in.
"Make it fast," he warned. "You've not much time before full dark."
All three men knew what that meant. The iron gates closed with nightfall and would not open again until dawn. The carter lashed his horses into action, and the carriage took off with a lurch.
They rumbled down the narrow, winding path, passing massive monuments and moss-draped trees. They passed the potter's field, where the indigent and the nameless took their final rest, and finally stopped at a stand of bizarrely twisted trees.
The carriage could go no farther, so the two ruffians slid the coffin out and shouldered it, going on afoot. Although twilight had not yet come, the shadows seemed deeper here, the night fright-eningly close at hand.
They stopped before a small grassy mound and tapped out a rhythmic code on the ancient door. It swung open, unaided. A soft, phosphoric glow seemed to beckon them in.
The men exchanged a glance, shrugged, and started down the well-worn stone steps that led to a swiftly descending passage.
At the end of the tunnel was a circular crypt. Glowing lichen grew on the walls, and the soft light revealed a number of shelflike openings carved deep into the stone. They shoved the coffin into the first available place and eyed the several doors leading out of the room.
"Which one?" Chadrik wondered aloud.
The other man shrugged and settled down on a boxy stone tomb. "Don't hardly matter. The Serpent's man said the buyer would come to us. Break the summoning stone and let's get the deal done."
Chadrik removed a small, cloth-wrapped bundle from his bag and took from it an azure stone. It was a costly thing, but never once did he think to keep or sell it. There was money to be made in the Serpent's employ, but any man who thought to cross the moon elf ended up mysteriously and messily dead.
He tossed the stone to the crypt's floor. It shattered into sparkling bits of lights. They rose like a swarm of tiny blue bees and disappeared into a crack in the stone wall.
Chadrik sent a nervous glance toward the stone ceiling and thought of the coming night. "Let's hope they're quick about it."
His partner took out a small knife and began to carve the dirt out from under his nails. "Worse comes to worse, we spend the night here. I wouldn't wander the City, mind you, but what harm could come to us in here?"
"What about Dienter?"
The other thug snorted with laughter. "Think that corpse-hauler would risk his hide on our account? He's likely long gone, and the carriage with him. Might as well settle yourself down."
Not seeing an option, Chadrik took this advice and took a seat on an old marble sarcophagus.
The glowing lichen suddenly ceased to cast light, throwing the room into utter darkness. The two men leaped to their feet and dragged out their weapons.
"Put them away," suggested a sonorous male voice-a voice too deep for a halfling, too fluid for a dwarf, too musical to be human. "Drow can see quite well in the dark, you know, whereas you can see nothing at all. You can't possibly hurt anyone but yourselves."
Drow.
An invisible fist of dread clenched