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Authors: Elaine Cunningham
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ways they didn't expect, but the
fact remains that they were willing to be used."
Volgo inclined his head in a short
bow and strode from the room, leaving Rhendish standing in a
whirlwind of troubled thoughts.
He shook them off and reached for a
book placed high on a shelf. Inside was a single metal page upon
which was etched a map of Sevrinspire. He thumbed a tiny lever and
a pinprick of blue light appeared along a street not far from where
he stood.
The adept hurried from the room,
beckoning for a pair of his human guards to follow.
He might not be able to control the
elf as he once had, but he could damn well find her.
Chapter 7: The Amulet
Honor lay on her belly on the wine
cellar's cold stone wall, using the green witch's knife to scratch
runes onto the stone wall. Dwarves left messages on the lowest part
of a tunnel wall. If Delgar was still on Sevrin, he might find this
message in time to save Fox's life. If he passed through this room on his
underground travels. If he thought to check this particular wall for
messages.
If, if, and if again.
She rolled into a sitting position
and tucked the knife between two dusty wine bottles. Rhendish's men
wouldn't let her keep it, and if they saw the dulled blade they
might wonder what she'd been doing with it.
She pulled her knees up to her
chest, wrapped her arms around them, and waited.
There was nothing else to do. The
door at the end of the tunnel leading from Keefin's cottage had
opened into this wine cellar. It had closed behind Honor so
completely that she couldn't find its outlines, much less open it.
She'd examined every inch of the chamber, but the only apparent
exit was a stout oak door, which unfortunately was bolted on the
outside.
She heard, with decidedly mixed
feelings, the thump of booted feet on the cellar stairs. The bolt
opened with a sharp crack that reminded her of ice-heavy branches
shattering in a winter wind. The door swung open, and she lifted
one hand to shield her eyes from the sudden flare of
torchlight.
Rhendish stood in the doorway,
flanked by armed guards. He lifted one eyebrow, like a parent
waiting for a misbehaving child to confess.
She rose to her feet. "After the
metal is removed, I will work for you for a year and a day. That is
our agreement. I'm bound by honor to fulfill it."
"And I've no reason whatsoever to
doubt your honor," he said in a voice utterly devoid of expression.
"Even so, I don't suppose you'd care to explain why you are locked
in a tavern wine cellar?"
"Not really."
Rhendish waited.
"It's a sordid tale of debauchery
and betrayal," Honor said in a tone that, if possible, was even
flatter than his.
To her surprise, the adept's lips
twitched. "Perhaps another time. We should return to the manor and
continue our work." His gaze skimmed over an empty wine rack.
"Unless, of course, you're still thirsty?"
His brand of humor felt familiar,
almost elfin. So she did what she would have done among her own
kind: She picked up two bottles, handed them to the guards, and
swept past them to the cellar stairs.
As she climbed toward relative
freedom, she took satisfaction in imagining the look on Rhendish's
face when he learned she'd chosen the two most expensive bottles in
the cellar.
A minor revenge, but until she was
released from her bonds and her vow, it would have to
do.
* * *
The return from Kronhus to
Heartstone took hours longer than it might have, had Fox and his
small band been able to sail directly into the Sevrinspire port.
They returned the fishing boat to the cove and slipped into the
forest beyond the fishing village. A small cave hidden in the roots
of a fallen tree led into what Delgar called a walking tunnel: a
straight passage built for speedy travel. Of course, Fox had
learned years ago that dwarven notions of "straight" bore a
distinct resemblance to a drunken spider's web. But even the most
convoluted trail eventually ends. By Fox's estimation, they reached
the Fox Den around
fact remains that they were willing to be used."
Volgo inclined his head in a short
bow and strode from the room, leaving Rhendish standing in a
whirlwind of troubled thoughts.
He shook them off and reached for a
book placed high on a shelf. Inside was a single metal page upon
which was etched a map of Sevrinspire. He thumbed a tiny lever and
a pinprick of blue light appeared along a street not far from where
he stood.
The adept hurried from the room,
beckoning for a pair of his human guards to follow.
He might not be able to control the
elf as he once had, but he could damn well find her.
Chapter 7: The Amulet
Honor lay on her belly on the wine
cellar's cold stone wall, using the green witch's knife to scratch
runes onto the stone wall. Dwarves left messages on the lowest part
of a tunnel wall. If Delgar was still on Sevrin, he might find this
message in time to save Fox's life. If he passed through this room on his
underground travels. If he thought to check this particular wall for
messages.
If, if, and if again.
She rolled into a sitting position
and tucked the knife between two dusty wine bottles. Rhendish's men
wouldn't let her keep it, and if they saw the dulled blade they
might wonder what she'd been doing with it.
She pulled her knees up to her
chest, wrapped her arms around them, and waited.
There was nothing else to do. The
door at the end of the tunnel leading from Keefin's cottage had
opened into this wine cellar. It had closed behind Honor so
completely that she couldn't find its outlines, much less open it.
She'd examined every inch of the chamber, but the only apparent
exit was a stout oak door, which unfortunately was bolted on the
outside.
She heard, with decidedly mixed
feelings, the thump of booted feet on the cellar stairs. The bolt
opened with a sharp crack that reminded her of ice-heavy branches
shattering in a winter wind. The door swung open, and she lifted
one hand to shield her eyes from the sudden flare of
torchlight.
Rhendish stood in the doorway,
flanked by armed guards. He lifted one eyebrow, like a parent
waiting for a misbehaving child to confess.
She rose to her feet. "After the
metal is removed, I will work for you for a year and a day. That is
our agreement. I'm bound by honor to fulfill it."
"And I've no reason whatsoever to
doubt your honor," he said in a voice utterly devoid of expression.
"Even so, I don't suppose you'd care to explain why you are locked
in a tavern wine cellar?"
"Not really."
Rhendish waited.
"It's a sordid tale of debauchery
and betrayal," Honor said in a tone that, if possible, was even
flatter than his.
To her surprise, the adept's lips
twitched. "Perhaps another time. We should return to the manor and
continue our work." His gaze skimmed over an empty wine rack.
"Unless, of course, you're still thirsty?"
His brand of humor felt familiar,
almost elfin. So she did what she would have done among her own
kind: She picked up two bottles, handed them to the guards, and
swept past them to the cellar stairs.
As she climbed toward relative
freedom, she took satisfaction in imagining the look on Rhendish's
face when he learned she'd chosen the two most expensive bottles in
the cellar.
A minor revenge, but until she was
released from her bonds and her vow, it would have to
do.
* * *
The return from Kronhus to
Heartstone took hours longer than it might have, had Fox and his
small band been able to sail directly into the Sevrinspire port.
They returned the fishing boat to the cove and slipped into the
forest beyond the fishing village. A small cave hidden in the roots
of a fallen tree led into what Delgar called a walking tunnel: a
straight passage built for speedy travel. Of course, Fox had
learned years ago that dwarven notions of "straight" bore a
distinct resemblance to a drunken spider's web. But even the most
convoluted trail eventually ends. By Fox's estimation, they reached
the Fox Den around
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