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cracking skulls asunder! Don't ye agree ahh! now?" Rathan's last opponent
fell, twitching, jaw shattered and bloody.
Torm looked up. "The horses don't like this. We'd best move them, and us, in
case there are others lurking. Narm, is your lady awake?"
Shandril answered him herself. "Yes." She shuddered involuntarily at the sight
of his bloody dagger. "Must you
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enjoy it so much?"
Tbrm looked at her in silence for a time. "I do not enjoy it at all" he said
quietly. "But I prefer it to getting a knife .in the ribs myself." He bent
down and wiped his blade on something that Shandril mercifully couldn't see in
the darkness, but he did not sheathe it. "Shall we ride?"
"Walk, pigeon-brain," Rathan rumbled, "and lead the horses. Who knows what
we'll stumble over or down into if we try to ride in this? See to these, will
ye? I want none alive to tell thy names and route, and this mace is not as
sure as a blade."
"At once, Exalted One," Tbrm said with sarcastic sweetness. "Mind you don't
forget any of your baggage. I'll see if our late friends were carrying
anything of value with them."
Rathan nodded in the light of the dying fire. "Mind more don't come upon thee
while ye're slavering and giggling over the gold. See to the campfire, will
ye?"
In quiet haste, they gathered their gear and led their mounts and mules into
the night. Westward Narm and Shandril followed Rathan, pace by careful pace,
over rolling ground.
Tbrm caught them up before long. "The fire's scattered and out. I can find no
one else following, but listen sharp everyone."
"It seems I'll be doing that the rest of my life," Shandril said in a bitter
whisper.
Tbrm put his head close to hers. The faint light of Selune caught his teeth as
he grinned. "You might even get used to it. Who knows?"
"Who indeed," she replied, pulling a reluctant Shield up an uneven slope in
the dark.
"Not much farther now" Rathan said soothingly from up ahead. Loose stones
clacked underfoot, and then Rathan said in quiet satisfaction, "Here. This
place will do."
Shandril fell into sleep as if it were a great black pit, and she never
stopped falling. She awoke with the smell of frying boar in her nostrils. Narm
had just kissed her. Shandril murmured contentment and embraced him sleepily
as she stretched. He smelled good.
Close at hand, a merry voice said, "Works like a charm, it
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does. Can I try it? Shandril, will you go back to sleep for a moment?"
Shandril sighed. "Tbrm, do you never stop?"
"Not until I'm dead, good lady. Irritating I may be, but Tm never dull."
"Aye," Rathan rumbled. "Thou art many things, but never dull."
"Fair morning to you both," Shandril laughed.
"Well met, lady," Rathan answered her. "Thy dawnfry awaits thee ... simple
fare, I fear, but enough to ride on. We were not bothered again in the night,
but ye had best watch sharp today. It will not be long before those bodies are
found."
Narm looked around at the grassy hills. "Where exactly are we?"
"West of the road, in the hills west of Featherdale," Rathan supplied. "Turn
about. Do ye see that gray shadow like smoke on the horizon? That is Arch
Wood. Between here and there lies an old, broad valley with no river to speak
of anymore. That's Tasseldale. I would not go down into the valley. Though
it's a pleasant place, indeed, with many fine shops and friendly folk, it is
also full of people ye want to avoid. Nay, keep to the heights along the
valley's northern edge.
"There, ye'll meet with no more than a shepherd or two and perhaps a Mairshar
patrol. Tell them they police the dale and always ride twelve strong that
ye're from Highmoon, going home, Shandril, with this mage ye met in HiUsfar.
Call thyself 'Gothal,' or something, Nairn. Stick to the truth about Gorstag
and the inn, lady, and ye'll fare the better. Give no information to any
others until ye meet with the elves of Deepingdale."
"Elves?" Shandril asked, astonished.
"Aye, elves. Don't ye know anything of Deepingdale, where ye grew up?"
Rathan's voice was incredulous.
"No," Shandril told him. "Only the inn. I saw half-elven, under arms, when I
left with the company, but no elves."
"I see. Know ye that the present Lord of Highmoon is the half-elven hero of
battles Theremen Ulath, just so ye don't say the wrong thing." The burly
cleric rose and pulled on his
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helm. "Now eat. The day grows old."
They ate, and soon the time came when all was ready, and Rathan sighed and
said heavily, "Well, the time has borne. We must leave ye."
He turned on his heel to look southwest. "One day's ride should take ye to the
west end of Tasseldale, in the Dun Hills. That's one camp. Keep a
watch sleeping together's for indoors. Peace, Tbrm, no jests now. Another
day's careful riding west just keep Arch Wood to the left of ye, whatever else
ye come upon will bring thee to Deepingdale. Ye can press on after dark once
ye've found the road, and make The Rising Moon before morning. All right?"
They nodded, hearts full.
"Good then," Rathan went on in gruff haste, "and none of that weeping, now."
He held out a wineskin to Narm. "For thy saddle." He fumbled at the large
pouch at his hip and brought out a disc of shining silver upon a fine chain
and hung it about Shandril's neck, kissing her on the forehead. "Tymora's good
luck go with thee" he said.
Torm stepped forward next. "Take this," he said, "andbear it most carefully.
It is dangerous." He held out a cheap, gaudy medallion of brass, set askew
with glued-in cut glass stones on a brass chain of mottled hue that did not
match the medallion. He put it about Nairn's neck.
"What is it?" Narm asked.
"Look at it now," Tbrm said, "lake care how you touch it." Narm looked. About [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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