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

And leave tomorrow?

So I’ll take her with me tomorrow. Take her home, take her to … Calandra. He could picture his sister’s fury, hear her scathing, flesh-stripping remarks. No, it wouldn’t be fair, wouldn’t be fair to Rega.

“Hey.” Roland punched him in the side with his elbow.

Paithan glanced up, saw that they’d reached the inn. A knight stood guarding the door. His gaze flicked over Roland, fixed earnestly on Paithan, then on Drugar, standing behind them.

“Go on in,” said the knight, throwing open the door.

Paithan walked inside, stared. He wouldn’t have recognized the inn. The common room had been transformed into an arsenal. Shields decorated with each knight’s device stood against the walls, each knight’s weapons stacked neatly in front. Additional arms had been piled in the center of the floor, presumably to be distributed to the general populace in time of need. Paithan noted some magical elven weapons among the knights’ retinue, but not many.

The room was empty, except for a knight, seated at a table, eating and drinking.

“That’s him,” said Roland, out of the corner of his mouth.

Lathan was young, no more than twenty-eight years old. He was handsome, with the black hair and black mustache of the Thillian lords. A jagged battle scar cut into his upper lip, giving him a slight, perpetual sneer.

“Excuse me if I am so unmannerly as to dine in front of you,” said Sir Lathan. “I’ve had nothing to eat or drink the last cycle.”

“We haven’t had much to eat ourselves,” said Paithan.

“Or drink,” Roland added, eyeing the knight’s full mug.

“There are other taverns in this town,” said Sir Lathan. “Taverns that serve your kind.” He looked up from his plate long enough to fix his eyes on the elf and the dwarf, then returned his attention to his food. He forked meat into his mouth, and washed it down with a drink, “More ale,” he shouted, looking around for the innkeeper. He banged his mug on the table and the innkeeper appeared, a sullen look on his face.

“This time,” said Sir Lathan, flinging the mug at the man’s head, “draw it from the good barrel. I won’t drink slop.”

The innkeeper scowled.

“Don’t worry. It will be paid for out of the royal treasury,” said the knight.

The innkeeper’s scowl deepened. Sir Lathan stared coldly at the man. Retrieving the mug, which had clattered to the floor, the innkeeper vanished.

“So, you’ve come from the norinth, have you, elf. What were you doing there, with that.” The knight gestured with his fork in the direction of the dwarf.

“I’m an explorer,” said Paithan. “This man, Roland Redleaf, is my guide. This is Blackbeard. We met-”

“Drugar,” growled the dwarf. “My name is Drugar.”

“Uh, huh.” Sir Lathan took a bit, chewed, then spit the meat back into his plate. “Pah! Gristle. So what’s an elf doing with the dwarves? Forging alliances, perhaps?”

“If I was, it’s my business.”

“The lords of Thillia could make it their business. We’ve let you elves live in peace a long time. Some are thinking it’s been too long. My Lord among them.”

Paithan said nothing, merely cast a significant glance at the elven weapons standing among the knights’ own. Sir Lathan saw the glance, understood, and grinned. “Think we can’t get along without you? Well, we’ve come up with some devices that’ll make you elves sit up and take notice.” He pointed. “See that? It’s called a crossbow. Drive an arrow through any type of armor you name. Even send it through a wall.”

“It will do you no good against the giants,” said Drugar. “It will be like throwing sticks at them.”

“How would you know? You met up with them?”

“They wiped out my people. Slaughtered them.”

Sir Lathan paused in the act of lifting a piece of bread to his mouth. He looked at the dwarf intently, then tore off a lit of bread with his teeth.

“Dwarves,” he muttered disparagingly, his mouth full.

Paithan glanced swiftly at Drugar, interested in the dwarf’s reaction. Drugar was eyeing the knight with a strange expression; the elf could have sworn it was glee. Startled, Paithan began to wonder if the dwarf was insane. Considering this, he lost the thread of the conversation and only picked it up again when he heard the word SeaKings.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *