Elven Star – The Death Gate Cycle 2. Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman

‘Talk Quinspar here into coming with us, Rega.”

The woman kept her eyes and her smile fixed on the elf. “Don’t you have somewhere to go, Roland?”

“You’re right. Damn beer runs right through me.”

Rising to his feet, Roland sauntered out of the common room, heading for the tavern’s backyard.

Rega’s smile widened. Paithan could see sharp teeth, white against lips that appeared to have been stained red with some kind of berry juice. Whoever kissed those lips would taste the sweetness . . .

“I wish you would come with us. It’s not that far. We know the best route, it cuts through SeaKing lands but on the wilderness side. No border guards the way we go. The path’s occasionally treacherous, but you don’t look like the type to be bothered by a little danger.” She leaned closer, and he was aware of a faint, musky odor that clung to her sweat-sheened skin. Her hand crept over Paithan’s. “My husband and I get so bored with each other’s company.”

Paithan recognized deliberate seduction. He should have; his sister Aleatha could have taught it on a university level and this crude young human could certainly benefit from a few courses. The elf found it all highly amusing and certainly entertaining after long days on the road. He did wonder, though, why Rega was going to all this trouble and he also wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if she might be prepared to deliver what she was offering.

I’ve never been to the dwarven kingdom, Paithan reflected. No elf has. It would be worthwhile going.

A vision of Calandra-mouth pursed, nose bone white, eyes flaring-rose up before Paithan. She’d be furious- He’d lose a season, at least, in getting back home.

But Cal, look, he heard himself saying. I’ve established trade with the dwarves. Direct trade. No middle men to take a cut. . .

“Say you’ll come with us.” Rega squeezed his hand. The elf noted that the woman possessed an unladylike strength, the skin of her palm was rough and hardened.

“The three of us couldn’t handle all these tyros-” he hedged.

“We don’t need all of them.” The woman was practical, businesslike. She let her hand linger in the elf’s grasp. “You’ve packed toys for cover, I assume? Get rid of them. Sell them. We’ll repack the … er … more valuable merchandise on three tyros.”

Well, it would work. Paithan had to admit it. Plus, the sale of the toys would more than pay for the trip back for his foreman Quintin. The profits might moderate Calandra’s fury.

“How can I refuse you anything?” Paithan answered, holding the warm hand a little tighter.

A door from the rear of the tavern slammed. Rega, flushing, snatched her hand away.

“My husband,” she murmured. “He’s frightfully jealous!”

Roland came strolling back into the common room, lacing up the leather thong on the front of his trousers. Passing by the bar he appropriated three mugs of ale that had been set out for other customers and carried them over to the table. He slammed them down, sloshing ale over everything and everyone, and grinned. “Well, Queesinard, my lovely wife talk you into coming with us?

“Yes,” answered Paithan, thinking that Redleaf didn’t act like any jealous husband the elf had ever known. “But I’ve got to send the overseer and my slaves back. They’ll be needed at home. And the name’s Quindiniar.”

“Good idea. The fewer who know about our route the better. Say, you mind if I call you Quin?”

“My given name’s Paithan.”

“Sure thing, Quin. A toast to the dwarves, then. To their beards and their money. They keep one and I’ll take the other!” Roland laughed. “Here, now, Rega. Quit drinking that grape juice. You know you can’t stand it.”

Rega flushed again. With a deprecating glance at Paithan, she thrust aside the glass of wine. Lifting a mug of ale to her berry-stained lips, she quaffed it skillfully.

What the hell? thought Paithan, and downed his ale in a gulp.

CHAPTER 13

SOMEWHERE OVER PRYAN

THE FLICK OF A WET, ROUGH TONGUE AND AN INSISTENT WHINING NUDGED

Haplo to wakefulness. He sat up immediately, reflexively, his senses attuned to the world around him-though his mind still fought off the effects of whatever it was that had knocked him out.

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