Shanhaevel pointed as he saw Latt leading the pair of horses, one already saddled, out of the adjoining barn.
“Right here,” Shanhaevel said, reaching for a silver to toss to the boy. “One to ride, and one for gear.”
Melias raised his voice to get everyone’s attention. “Come on! Let’s get going.”
The entourage gathered together and set out. Shanhaevel found himself riding next to Shirral. He wasn’t sure what to say to her as they started up the road, but he certainly didn’t want her scowling at him for the entire day, so he started by apologizing.
“I’m sorry for staring before,” he began. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Forget it,” the druid said, not looking at him.
When Shirral seemed unwilling to say more, Shanhaevel continued, “No, really. I was surprised, but only because I’ve been getting so many looks, myself.”
Shirral did look at him, then, and her visage softened somewhat. After a moment, she said, “It’s all right. I’m just a little angry with Jaroo for sending me off with the rest of you. I’ve got better things to do than traipse around the woods with a bunch of men.”
Shanhaevel chuckled, drawing another scowl from the druid. “I’m not really here by choice, either,” he said, trying to explain. “My late master and Burne were old friends, so I get to go on this expedition without being consulted. Believe me, I’d rather be back home.”
Shirral looked at Shanhaevel, but she only grunted in response.
“Anyway,” Shanhaevel continued, “last night. You and your friend really took us by surprise.”
“Who, Mobley? He’s harmless, most of the time.”
“Except when there are bugbears about,” Shanhaevel added.
“Yes, and idiots with swords smashing their way through the forest.”
“Well, I don’t own a sword.”
Shirral looked at him, her blue eyes blazing. “And other idiots who sling magic around in the woods, lighting the place up like a Needfest tree. Neither Mobley nor I could see what was going on, you know,” she said, rather indignantly. “Jaroo would have had my hide—and all of yours—if anything had happened to Mobley.”
“I’m sorry,” Shanhaevel replied. “I was trying to blind the bugbears, not you. We didn’t even know you were there.”
“Yes, well…” Shirral said, not finishing.
At that point, the entourage was approaching Burne and Rufus’ tower, and they all got a better look at the damage from the fire the previous evening. Some of the blackened wood still smoked, and several sections of scaffolding were damaged beyond repair, but it didn’t appear as bad as Burne had made it sound the night before.
“The turn-off to the old high road is just ahead,” Shirral said as the group left the edge of town.
The road was flanked on both sides by woods now. At the junction, Melias headed off the main road to the right, with the rest following him. The old high road was little more than a game trail, overgrown and half hidden. Shanhaevel and Shirral were riding beside Elmo, and the three of them formed the rear of the procession. Farther up the line, Draga broke into a song, his voice high and smooth as the morning sun as he sang some ditty with a lot of nonsensical words Shanhaevel had never heard before.
“Jaroo tells me you have a friend,” Shirral said. “A hawk?”
Shanhaevel turned and looked at Shirral.
“They got acquainted last night,” Shirral said, realizing Shanhaevel was confused. “Jaroo told me he met your familiar after the bugbear raid.”
Shanhaevel nodded and reached out with his mind. Ormiel, are you there?
Yes, came the hawk’s reply. Hunting mice.
Come to me, the elf commanded, then smiled at Shirral and Elmo. “He’s a steady friend and a good lookout. I’ve called him, so you can meet him.”
Shirral smiled, and it was the first time Shanhaevel had seen her do it, he realized. It dazzled him, but he tried not to show it. Instead, he turned and looked at the road in front of him.
Ormiel appeared, swooping in from the trees behind the company. Shanhaevel smiled as the hawk circled the group and settled on his shoulder.
When the bird landed, Shirral gasped in delight, smiling as brightly as Shanhaevel thought imaginable. “Hello there, you magnificent beauty,” she said, reaching up to stroke the top of Ormiel’s head, smoothing the feathers softly.
Shanhaevel watched the druid, entranced and dazzled by her beauty. “Here,” he said, reaching inside his pocket and pulling out a strip of dried meat, which he handed to her. “He loves these.”
Carefully, Shirral held her hand up and extended the piece of meat toward Ormiel’s beak. The bird eyed the meat without blinking. Then, in an instant, the hawk darted its head forward, snatched the meat from the druid’s grasp, and began to consume it.
“What a gorgeous creature,” Shirral said.
“Yes,” Shanhaevel agreed, turning to see Elmo’s reaction. The huge man was simply watching, an intent look on his face. “Ormiel is fine specimen,” the elf added, then mentally spoke to his companion. Watch the trail ahead today.
Your mate with sky eyes speaks to me, Ormiel responded. The big man speaks to me.
Shanhaevel nearly choked at the bird’s reference to Shirral, then he caught himself as the other half of Ormiel’s claim registered. Big man?
“Ormiel says you’re talking to him,” Shanhaevel said, looking back and forth between Shirral and Elmo.
“He could hear me? Oh, that’s delightful!” The druid said. She continued to stroke the bird’s feathers and speak to it aloud in soothing tones. Elmo, however, said nothing, turning once again in the saddle to watch the path before him.
Not a mate. Only a friend. Shanhaevel projected. What big man speaks to you?
Big man with shiny feathers and bad air.
Shiny feathers means armor, but bad air? Oh! Shanhaevel realized. Elmo’s breath.
“Ormiel says you speak to him, too,” Shanhaevel said.
Elmo only smiled, not turning around. “Shirral talks to the animals. I just watch. Ormiel is a very nice bird, though, Shanhaevel.”
Shanhaevel shook his head, wondering if Elmo had some sort of ability to speak with animals that he didn’t know about. He watched the axeman for a long moment, but Elmo offered no clues. Dismissing this thought, Shanhaevel repeated to Ormiel, Watch the road today for had things.
Yes. I watch. Watch and hunt. Sky eyes is very nice.
Shanhaevel looked again at Shirral, who was still enraptured with the hawk, seemingly very happy. Yes. Thank you, Ormiel. She is very nice.
7
Hedrack walked to one of the braziers that warmed his chambers. He pulled a burning taper from it, then crossed to the center of the room and dropped cross-legged atop a series of thick, plush carpets and cushions. Closing his eyes and uttering a few words of prayer to Iuz, he lit a single black candle in front of him and cast a spell. A moment later, the ghostly, vaporous image of Lareth appeared before him. As Hedrack made eye contact with his field commander, the apparition of the other man smiled and bowed.
“Most humble greetings, Mouth of Iuz,” Lareth intoned maintaining his bow.
Hedrack studied the figure for a moment, reminded with a tiny pang of envy how handsome he was considered to be. A mane of sandy blond hair framed a rugged face with compelling blue eyes. Lareth’s broad shoulders and devilish smile always turned the ladies’ heads, and the field commander knew it all too well. In fact, Lareth’s assessment of his own beauty had made him slightly insolent of late.
Always with the handsome ones, the high priest thought, there are aspirations to rise above station. Durbas, the author of Conquest, Obedience, and Command, maintained that the occasional reprimand was absolutely necessary to remind a servant of his actual worth, to avoid instilling a false notion of favoritism and thus the mistaken belief that the servant might some day replace the master. Lareth was certainly one for whom this might be necessary.