“Some
warrior you are.”
“At least I haven’t gotten myself killed,” he
said, regretting his words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that
up.”
“Ethen,” she said, digging through the
pockets of her jacket, “really, it’s fine.” She cast him a look
that read leave it alone . “Ah, here it is.” She pulled the
blood weed from an inside pocket and rubbed it into the gash on
Ethen’s head.
“Damn, that stings !” Ethen shot her a
dark glare. She could see the hidden smile teasing his lips.
“ Some healer you are.”
Luka placed a hand on her shoulder. “Astrid…
Fryx wishes to speak to you.” Quibell stood at his side, his
normally smug blue face somber.
Astrid nodded, unsure of what to expect. Had
the Phooka’s death upset him? Did Alistair not make it— surely
Luka was able to heal him . She swallowed hard and followed the
stern-faced goblin down a darkened side hall. He led her to a drift
wood door. It was a smaller version of the one at the entrance of
the villa. Quibell stroked the outside with his spindly-fingered
hand. The drift wood snaked apart and opened.
“This way, idiot ,” Quibell said, his
voice harsh. Astrid rested her hands on her blades, weary of what
lay on the other side of the doorway.
“Please,” she said, “ ugliness before
stupidity .”
The goblin grunted and shot into the shadowy
room. “I’ve brought the girl, my Lord.”
“Yes, of course,” said Fryx. He sat with his
short legs kicked up at a dark wooden desk. A wide candle burned
deep inside cream-colored wax on the desk, casting long shadows on
the wall. A familiar goblin sat beside the desk, his eyes squinted
into an icy glare. “Come in, Astrid. Have a seat. We have much to
discuss.”
Astrid slipped onto a nearby stool, her hands
never leaving her blades.
“Lyell here has come on behalf of the
governor of Limra requesting our assistance,” said Fryx, stroking
his beard. “The storm outside seems to have something sinister
controlling it. This presence has asked for an ambassador from
Limra to discuss conditions of surrender .”
“That’s where you two come in,” said Lyell,
his shriveled mouth twisting into a grin.
Fryx rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, I’m
afraid we have no choice in the matter.”
“No choice?” Astrid shot up from her seat,
sending it skittering across the cool sandstone. “This is really
none of my business. I’m no diplomat. And I’m certainly no
pawn.”
Fryx raised his gaze to meet Astrid’s. “I’m
not giving you a choice. From what I hear, you’re in my debt. Or do
you care to pay for the loss of my Phooka,” he said, wrath
edging into his voice. “No? The decision has been made. Luka has
agreed to accompany us—”
“—he what? That steaming pile of troll—”
“—I suggest you prepare for our departure in
the morning,” Fryx said, cutting off Astrid’s tirade. “I have
appropriate clothes and weapons waiting for you. Quibell will show
you to your room.” The dwarve snapped his stubby fingers. Astrid
found herself being swept away from the room by a snickering
goblin.
“ Idiot girl ,” he said, dragging her
down the hall. He threw open a door and shoved her inside into a
group of bickering goblinesses.
“Ack! Look at this hair!”
“So full of mud! Even her eyes are made of
mud!”
“These damned nomads! Such foul
creatures—”
“—Quick! To the tub before she gets
free!”
Astrid was submerged into a bubbling Hell.
Suds rushed up her nose and stung in her lungs. She gargled curses
at the cluster of wiry blue arms that tore at her clothes and hair.
Hard bristles scraped her naked skin and water poured in from all
directions.
She saw a gap in their assault and dove for
the door. The goblinesses shrieked as they snapped at her heels,
shaking brushes and cakes of soap above their heads.
Astrid grabbed a sapphire-encrusted triton
from the wall and barred the door. The goblinesses pounded on the
delicate wood. It was only
warrior you are.”
“At least I haven’t gotten myself killed,” he
said, regretting his words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that
up.”
“Ethen,” she said, digging through the
pockets of her jacket, “really, it’s fine.” She cast him a look
that read leave it alone . “Ah, here it is.” She pulled the
blood weed from an inside pocket and rubbed it into the gash on
Ethen’s head.
“Damn, that stings !” Ethen shot her a
dark glare. She could see the hidden smile teasing his lips.
“ Some healer you are.”
Luka placed a hand on her shoulder. “Astrid…
Fryx wishes to speak to you.” Quibell stood at his side, his
normally smug blue face somber.
Astrid nodded, unsure of what to expect. Had
the Phooka’s death upset him? Did Alistair not make it— surely
Luka was able to heal him . She swallowed hard and followed the
stern-faced goblin down a darkened side hall. He led her to a drift
wood door. It was a smaller version of the one at the entrance of
the villa. Quibell stroked the outside with his spindly-fingered
hand. The drift wood snaked apart and opened.
“This way, idiot ,” Quibell said, his
voice harsh. Astrid rested her hands on her blades, weary of what
lay on the other side of the doorway.
“Please,” she said, “ ugliness before
stupidity .”
The goblin grunted and shot into the shadowy
room. “I’ve brought the girl, my Lord.”
“Yes, of course,” said Fryx. He sat with his
short legs kicked up at a dark wooden desk. A wide candle burned
deep inside cream-colored wax on the desk, casting long shadows on
the wall. A familiar goblin sat beside the desk, his eyes squinted
into an icy glare. “Come in, Astrid. Have a seat. We have much to
discuss.”
Astrid slipped onto a nearby stool, her hands
never leaving her blades.
“Lyell here has come on behalf of the
governor of Limra requesting our assistance,” said Fryx, stroking
his beard. “The storm outside seems to have something sinister
controlling it. This presence has asked for an ambassador from
Limra to discuss conditions of surrender .”
“That’s where you two come in,” said Lyell,
his shriveled mouth twisting into a grin.
Fryx rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, I’m
afraid we have no choice in the matter.”
“No choice?” Astrid shot up from her seat,
sending it skittering across the cool sandstone. “This is really
none of my business. I’m no diplomat. And I’m certainly no
pawn.”
Fryx raised his gaze to meet Astrid’s. “I’m
not giving you a choice. From what I hear, you’re in my debt. Or do
you care to pay for the loss of my Phooka,” he said, wrath
edging into his voice. “No? The decision has been made. Luka has
agreed to accompany us—”
“—he what? That steaming pile of troll—”
“—I suggest you prepare for our departure in
the morning,” Fryx said, cutting off Astrid’s tirade. “I have
appropriate clothes and weapons waiting for you. Quibell will show
you to your room.” The dwarve snapped his stubby fingers. Astrid
found herself being swept away from the room by a snickering
goblin.
“ Idiot girl ,” he said, dragging her
down the hall. He threw open a door and shoved her inside into a
group of bickering goblinesses.
“Ack! Look at this hair!”
“So full of mud! Even her eyes are made of
mud!”
“These damned nomads! Such foul
creatures—”
“—Quick! To the tub before she gets
free!”
Astrid was submerged into a bubbling Hell.
Suds rushed up her nose and stung in her lungs. She gargled curses
at the cluster of wiry blue arms that tore at her clothes and hair.
Hard bristles scraped her naked skin and water poured in from all
directions.
She saw a gap in their assault and dove for
the door. The goblinesses shrieked as they snapped at her heels,
shaking brushes and cakes of soap above their heads.
Astrid grabbed a sapphire-encrusted triton
from the wall and barred the door. The goblinesses pounded on the
delicate wood. It was only
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