Read Online Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 3 - The Amber Enchantress by Troy Denning - Free Book Online
Authors: Troy Denning
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Tyr, she had heard enough about the different societies to know none of them tolerated defilers. In spite of Milo's reassurances, though, Sadira still thought it wiser not to admit her identity.
“Perhaps you are the sorcerer,” she said. “You certainly seem to know more about the Veiled Alliance than I do.”
“Not because I am a sorcerer, but because one of my wives dabbles in the art,” Milo said. He leaned closer to Sadira and, in a hushed voice, added, “She has been trying to contact those who wear the veil for many months. I was hoping you might assist her.”
“I'm sorry, I really wouldn't know
—
”
Sadira stopped in midsentence, for again she heard the strange trill ringing above the ryl pipes. This time, being farther away from the music, she recognized the sound as the dulcet chirping of a singing spider. The half-elf had heard the sound only once before: on the other side of the Ringing Mountains, in the halfling forest.
Milo frowned at the sorceress. “What's wrong?”
“Didn't you hear that chirping?”
The captain nodded. “A bird of some sort. I don't recognize what kind, but
—
”
“It wasn't a bird,” Sadira interrupted. “It was a spider.”
“A spider that chirps
—
and that loud?” the captain replied, disbelievingly. “You were right
—
you have had too much broy.”
“No,” Sadira insisted, laying her cane in the crook of her arm. “These spiders are huge. The halflings of the Ringing Mountains hunt them for food
—
”
“We're a long way from the mountains,” said Milo.
Sadira had to agree. The spiders were gentle creatures that made their homes in trees and fed themselves on puffy fungus that covered the forest floor. It did not seem likely that they could survive a trip into the desert, where there were neither many trees nor any fungus. Yet the sorceress felt certain the chirping was very close to the sound the beasts made when they rubbed their spine-covered legs together.
“If it isn't the spiders, it's someone imitating them
—
and doing very well at it,” Sadira said.
“Like who?”
“It can only be halflings,” the sorceress said. “Their normal language is half bird-squeaks and squawks. What I heard is probably a dialect they use to hunt the spiders.”
“Halflings don't come into the desert.”
“These have,” Sadira said. “You'd better prepare for battle.”
The captain rolled his eyes. “Please. The sentries have seen nothing
—
”
“And they won't until it's too late,” Sadira countered. When Milo still made no move to stop the dancing, the sorceress said, “Come with me. I'll show you.”
With that, Sadira walked over to the wall. Milo followed a step behind, reaching beneath his wrap to draw an obsidian sword with a thick, curved blade. The pair climbed out of the campsite, then dropped into the dark sands outside the ancient foundation. The two moons lit the crests of the surrounding dunes in a shimmering yellow glow, leaving the troughs bathed in impenetrable purple shadows. Like a range of snorting hillocks, the silhouettes of the inixes loomed a short distance to the west, A gentle breeze blew from their direction, carrying on its breath the mordant smell of their reptilian bodies.
Sadira's kank was staked a few yards apart from the rest of the caravan mounts, isolated from the larger beasts to keep it from being inadvertently trampled. Like the inixes, her mount still carried its cargo
—
her personal belongings and a waterskin which was strapped to its harness
—
in case the caravan had to leave in a hurry. A dozen spear-carrying sentries prowled among the animals, watching for elves or predators that had snuck into the area hoping to find an easy meal.
Milo started toward the animals, but Sadira caught his arm and led him in the opposite direction. “Halflings are hunters,” she explained. “They'll approach from downwind, where the inixes can't smell them.”
“Lead the way. They're
“Perhaps you are the sorcerer,” she said. “You certainly seem to know more about the Veiled Alliance than I do.”
“Not because I am a sorcerer, but because one of my wives dabbles in the art,” Milo said. He leaned closer to Sadira and, in a hushed voice, added, “She has been trying to contact those who wear the veil for many months. I was hoping you might assist her.”
“I'm sorry, I really wouldn't know
—
”
Sadira stopped in midsentence, for again she heard the strange trill ringing above the ryl pipes. This time, being farther away from the music, she recognized the sound as the dulcet chirping of a singing spider. The half-elf had heard the sound only once before: on the other side of the Ringing Mountains, in the halfling forest.
Milo frowned at the sorceress. “What's wrong?”
“Didn't you hear that chirping?”
The captain nodded. “A bird of some sort. I don't recognize what kind, but
—
”
“It wasn't a bird,” Sadira interrupted. “It was a spider.”
“A spider that chirps
—
and that loud?” the captain replied, disbelievingly. “You were right
—
you have had too much broy.”
“No,” Sadira insisted, laying her cane in the crook of her arm. “These spiders are huge. The halflings of the Ringing Mountains hunt them for food
—
”
“We're a long way from the mountains,” said Milo.
Sadira had to agree. The spiders were gentle creatures that made their homes in trees and fed themselves on puffy fungus that covered the forest floor. It did not seem likely that they could survive a trip into the desert, where there were neither many trees nor any fungus. Yet the sorceress felt certain the chirping was very close to the sound the beasts made when they rubbed their spine-covered legs together.
“If it isn't the spiders, it's someone imitating them
—
and doing very well at it,” Sadira said.
“Like who?”
“It can only be halflings,” the sorceress said. “Their normal language is half bird-squeaks and squawks. What I heard is probably a dialect they use to hunt the spiders.”
“Halflings don't come into the desert.”
“These have,” Sadira said. “You'd better prepare for battle.”
The captain rolled his eyes. “Please. The sentries have seen nothing
—
”
“And they won't until it's too late,” Sadira countered. When Milo still made no move to stop the dancing, the sorceress said, “Come with me. I'll show you.”
With that, Sadira walked over to the wall. Milo followed a step behind, reaching beneath his wrap to draw an obsidian sword with a thick, curved blade. The pair climbed out of the campsite, then dropped into the dark sands outside the ancient foundation. The two moons lit the crests of the surrounding dunes in a shimmering yellow glow, leaving the troughs bathed in impenetrable purple shadows. Like a range of snorting hillocks, the silhouettes of the inixes loomed a short distance to the west, A gentle breeze blew from their direction, carrying on its breath the mordant smell of their reptilian bodies.
Sadira's kank was staked a few yards apart from the rest of the caravan mounts, isolated from the larger beasts to keep it from being inadvertently trampled. Like the inixes, her mount still carried its cargo
—
her personal belongings and a waterskin which was strapped to its harness
—
in case the caravan had to leave in a hurry. A dozen spear-carrying sentries prowled among the animals, watching for elves or predators that had snuck into the area hoping to find an easy meal.
Milo started toward the animals, but Sadira caught his arm and led him in the opposite direction. “Halflings are hunters,” she explained. “They'll approach from downwind, where the inixes can't smell them.”
“Lead the way. They're
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