Part 2: World-Makers
Chapter 6: The Viewing
Chapter 7: Friend of yers?
Chapter 8: Pirate ship ahoy!
Chapter 9: ‘Tis the Black Fox!
Chapter 10: Welcome to Neverwinter
Part 2: World-Makers
Morikan, Rykvaz, N’avsh, Belnarath, GrayWolf, Shoshuna, Hat’yet. The seven spirits that had created the worlds of the universe.
Father will probably agree with me when I call them interfering entities with an absolutely unnerving air about them at times – I doubt how much they would have cared if the Realms were to suddenly combust, with the millions upon millions of lives perishing in the flames.
It is strange how so much power is associated with these beings. With a smile they can create a new sun five inches next to you, with a nod they can destroy a world. Odd indeed, how they are content merely to create then watch their results.
The seven are also representations of the many aspects of human selves, something that many miss – for they are mostly only associated by those who know them of the world they had created. Or they may be an aspect of a religion, as the unlikely jester-like GrayWolf is.
Asur’s Guardian is a non-essential role, as Father as often loudly stated to Morikan’s cat manifestation. They need not anyone to watch over this world, as every world they created is incorporated into their very being, so they can feel any monumental changes. Asur knows that even if such changes happened, Father would be unlikely to bother to tell them in the first place. Yet the role exists, despite Father’s vigorous efforts against such a result. Among Morikan’s many faults is that he takes a perverse delight in subtle irritation.
Perhaps we all need an ultimate of everything. An ultimate of evil and that of good and that of raw power itself. Perhaps it is because of this that the World-Makers originally came into being – out of raw possibility-beliefs, for an extreme in life.
That is one of the reasons why my favorite of the seven is Morikan. I believe there are balances in life, and even chaos is part of the grand cosmic balance of the universe, for in chaos comes change, and from change comes varied results, which later will result in change again. Morikan is neutral, and even with his adverse personality, he is undoubtedly the most scintillating of the World-Makers. He deserves his role as Kano.
Though Father will not admit it, he is fond of several of the World-Makers, as some of them are fond of him, most obvious of all GrayWolf, who is very possessive in ways as to Father, as if Father was one of his well, possessions. This Father really resents at times.
I am not certain why they chose the form of cats as their manifestations on this world, and why all seven of them did so. Perhaps this world is one massive, important experiment of many experiments, or perhaps they are just here to irritate Father. No one knows, except themselves, and even of that I am uncertain.
But for one thing that I do know is that they will continue always to manipulate my life. My life - my family’s life, has been under their subtle influence for a long time, and this does have its advantages at times, but it is most unnerving to know that your entire destiny is probably being planned out in front of you by seven cats that you see every morning. That is why Father avoids them as much as he can.
That is also one of the reasons why I ‘ran away’ for want of a better phrase. I wished to break out of this inexorable run of events, away from those seven meddlers, but looking back now, I am not sure if this was not part of their plan at the first.
One thing that is certain in this fog of implications and suspicions – no matter what they would do, I am still very fond of them. They may have made me that way, but I believe that is one thing that they would not do. They have been responsible for most of what has happened in my life so far, and I’d like to thank you for everything, World-Makers!
-K’yanae Do’Urden
***
Chapter 6: The Viewing
K’yanae tried her best to ignore the chill of cold stone against her legs when she sat in the library of the Bastion reading up on Calimport. It was indeed confirming with what she did know from her tutor Taenan, though elaborated on the guilds and hinted at several other oddities, like a wererat colony in its sewers.
The library could charitably be called sturdy, but was stocked with a practical array of books in smooth stone bookshelves. There had been some desultory attempt to make the place friendlier by using colored slate tiles for the floor and colored sandstone for the walls, in soft easy shades, but a heavy businesslike aura still stayed.
The elderly griffin librarian glanced up at her when she had entered then trilled a light greeting and returned to his cataloguing. K’yanae finally gave in to the oppressive place, and borrowed a few books to retire to her room to study. The librarian handled the books delicately, as if they were fragile glassware, marked them then handed them back to her.
She ran into Bruenor and Catti-Brie approaching the library, and nodded a greeting to them.
"Any luck with Calimport?" Bruenor inquired, more of a gruff polite question other than real curiosity.
"Yes, thank you," K’yanae said, "Good luck with yours."
Then she quickly retreated before Bruenor could press her to help them look for any hints of Mithril Hall.
She found her room door open, but the wolf supplied her with advance notice of her uninvited visitor, so she confidently stalked in and dumped her books on the simple bed.
"Greetings once again, rider," S’vanarr bowed, a feat in the small room.
"And to you," K’yanae grinned. "You know of the ‘quest’ I am to go on?"
"We are to go on," S’vanarr corrected, "I pledged to follow thee for the rest of mine life." It was the griffin’s turn to grin impishly.
"Curse my luck," K’yanae smiled.
"Milady, how canst thee speak of such foul slanders?" S’vanarr feigned a shocked expression.
"Well," K’yanae said, sitting down on the bed, "First I’m a thief, and true thieves are not commonly known as ladies."
"Master thieves are supposedly gentlefolk," S’vanarr grinned.
"Kurent certainly doesn’t look like one," K’yanae said, "He looks more like a pirate. And though his attitude does touch now and then on a gentleman, he isn’t exactly one."
"I surrender to your superior knowledge," S’vanarr said dryly.
"Good," said K’yanae absently, "Do you know anything about Mithril Hall?"
"I took the liberty of looking that up already," S’vanarr said, "It’s at a mountain."
"How specific," K’yanae commented sarcastically. "Not the Spine of the World, I hope?"
"No," S’vanarr said, "That’s where Bruenor comes from. It is around Silverymoon, I believe. The location is pinpointed in one of our very old maps."
K’yanae started from her sitting position. "Did you tell Bruenor?"
"No," S’vanarr said.
"Why not?" K’yanae demanded.
"Because I just found out about it, and believed that you should have the privilege of finding out first," S’vanarr said disarmingly. K’yanae sighed, and led the griffin out of her room back to the library.
There was a pause, and then Owl flew back into the room, grumbling at his mistress’ strange attitude.
***
Bruenor reached out a hand to touch the crackling brown parchment, but the Griffin in charge of the archive hissed a sharp rebuke.
The dwarf ignored it, trembling with palpable excitement as he looked at the neat dot, which represented his family hall.
"It’s a long way northwards," K’yanae sighed. "After all the effort I put in getting this far southwards."
"We’d come back to Calimport after this adventure if you’d like," S’vanarr said, "Flying’s faster than running."
"It seems such a huge waste," K’yanae complained.
"Ye know of any who live in Mithril Hall at th’ moment?" Bruenor asked S’vanarr.
S’vanarr frowned. "Not exactly," he said, "But I may be able to show you."
"The Viewing is not for strangers, my Lord," the archivist protested.
"These are exceptions, Vankarr," S’vanarr said smoothly, "There will probably be concessions the dwarves will have to make for this." He turned a stern eye on Bruenor. "We will require your word and signature that if the griffins help you in this way to reclaim Mithril Hall, you will be our eternal allies. And there will probably be trade agreements on the mithril
which this hall is supposed to have plentiful supply to."
Bruenor grunted. "An’ if me halls are empty?"
"Have you not heard of the legends?" S’vanarr asked.
The dwarf bristled, but Catti-Brie interposed quickly. "Suren we have," she said, "We will agree if yer ‘Viewing’ is o’ use."
S’vanarr twitched his ear tufts. "All the use in the world, lady," he said.
"Diplomats are very good at exaggeration," K’yanae remarked.
"Undoubtedly," S’vanarr said urbanely, "But nevertheless. You will be able to ‘View’ all the routes in to Mithril Hall, and all possible faults in enemy defense."
"I agree," Bruenor said, "Ye speak of signing?"
"I suggest you partake of lunch first," S’vanarr said, "While I go and pull a few strings."
"Kin I borrow the map?" Bruenor asked. The archivist shook his head vigorously.
"Most certainly not," Vankarr retorted, "The map is a valued treasure. You may continue to view it for as long as you want, but in my presence."
K’yanae looked back at the map while Bruenor started to argue with the irascible archivist. Silverymoon was in unimportant script, though the wood was clearly marked, as well as the infamous troll moors. The spellings were in the old elven tongue, though the names were the conventional ones. There were a few odd places that K’yanae supposed no longer existed –
Gobline Fortress, for one.
The map itself spoke of careful artistry, with a colorful pictures and patterns of the border of the fine parchment. She silently applauded the work of the elf that had done this.
"Hard t’ believe," Catti-Brie mused next to her, "Mithril Hall’s bin an obsession wi’ me father fer a long time."
"What’s hard to believe?" K’yanae asked, and forced her figurative hackles down.
"That we’re so close," Catti-Brie went on, though a twitch of her jaw showed that she knew K’yanae’s feelings towards her but was apparently trying to stop her own equally negative ones.
"I see," K’yanae said more calmly. The wolf was bristling and growling at the young woman, but K’yanae also called her partner down. "I think we should go for an early lunch now."
"Very well," Catti-Brie said, and turned to call her father.
***
They emerged from the eating place to find S’vanarr waiting for them. "Mission accomplished," the griffin said immediately in a sepulchral voice. "Do follow me."
He led them to a large brassbound stone door inlaid with clear crystal ‘windows’. K’yanae managed to identify common quartz, amethyst and moonstone before S’vanarr swept them through the heavy doors, that moved silently and easily on pivots.
"The Viewing," S’vanarr said grandly, gesturing before them.
Directly in front of them was a walkway of the same slate that could be found in the rest of the Bastion, wide enough for all of them to walk in a line. At one side of the path were four upraised, crude-looking, immense basin-like structures, with a meter or so radius, spaced four meters apart from each other. The liquid in it threw up patterns on the ceiling. Several griffins and a few humans looked up when they entered then continued their activities.
K’yanae wandered over to the closest one, and was surprised when the tepid sea-blue water rippled to show the Citadel.
S’vanarr materialized beside her. "Shows you the place you’re thinking of," he said, "But you can also command it to show you a place."
As an example, he commanded, "Griffin Bastion."
The water rippled again, and showed an overhead view of the Bastion.
"Interestin’," Bruenor remarked, standing beside them. "Mithril Hall."
The water rippled of its own accord, to show an overhead view of a deep gorge and high mountains.
"Keeper’s Dale!" Bruenor breathed. "Can we move th’ view down?"
The view enlarged, and focused closer.
"Three peaks to seem as one," S’vanarr prompted with a wink at the dwarf. The view moved until the three mountains closest to the gorge interposed each other’s outlines.
"Ye know the song?" Bruenor asked sharply.
S’vanarr bobbed his head. "Behind ye the morning sun... no sun today, but not much loss."
Bruenor commanded the view down to the bottom of the gorge, and it did so in a dizzying plunge.
***
K’yanae watched the moon climb up through the night sky, then lighted a lamp. Owl hopped closer to take in the warmth, cooing contentedly, and she noted that it had fed.
She picked up the books from the bed and deposited them on the floor in a neat pile, then began to polish her weapons, ending last on the black sword she had found in the crypt.
You will go to Mithril Hall? The wolf asked.
Obviously, K’yanae said, Though it does seem a great embarrassing waste to have come this far for Calimport then to turn back further north.
You place too much on that, the wolf sniffed, There is no actual need for you to go to either, so you might as well go to the place, which would bring you ‘money’.
You don’t approve? K’yanae asked.
No, the wolf said bluntly.
Why not? K’yanae asked.
I do not like this. I do not like the dwarf and his companions. I do not like the thought of going into the lair of a black dragon and his duergar guards. The wolf said, referring to their other findings in the Viewing. Mithril Hall was still guarded by Shimmergloom, the black dragon who had chased out Bruenor’s people in the first place.
You don’t like much, old friend, K’yanae grinned.
I did like Namaen’s wolf partner, the wolf said.
Sure you did, K’yanae smiled. What about S’vanarr?
He is interesting, the wolf commented, I would not presume to understand a Griffin, but he is nervous about something in the Bastion, which is also why he was enthusiastic to come along.
Do you detect a familiar hand in all this? K’yanae finally voiced a suspicion she had.
Of course, the wolf laughed; did you think we would escape so easily, friend?
Yes, K’yanae admitted, Devious things.
You have much to learn yet, the wolf said sententiously.
I know that, K’yanae sighed. Why does everyone keep telling me that?
Because you don’t seem to have grasped the fact, the wolf said bluntly.
K’yanae grumbled, then prepared to sleep.
***
Chapter 7: Friend of yers?
They took their leave of the merchants as Hurst and Motrin had no intention of going back north until their long business in Calimport was finished.
K’yanae helped to buckle on the saddle on S’vanarr, and then climbed on with the large griffin’s help.
S’vanarr did not appear to be affected by her weight, and turned his attention to Bruenor and Catti-Brie, riding horses provided by the Bastion.
"The Bastion is willing to provide backing when we actually are going to take back the place," he said, "As agreed."
Bruenor nodded. "’Tis a pleasure doin’ business with ye," he said, then spurred on the horse northwards, Catti-Brie following.
"Are you ready?" S’vanarr swiveled his head to look back at K’yanae.
"Yes," K’yanae said, barely concealing her excitement.
Still, the takeoff came as a surprise. S’vanarr coiled down like a spring and leaped into the air, massive wings flapping ponderously, then more gracefully as the griffin clawed its way high upwards and stabilized into flight. Owl flew up next to them, hooting at the griffin in astonishment.
"Friend of yours?" S’vanarr called over the rushing wind.
K’yanae nodded mutely, her gaze riveted on the amazing view below, and the singing whistle of the wind through the griffin’s large wings. Somewhere in her the wolf retreated as far as she technically could, whimpering in fright.
Afraid of heights? K’yanae asked.
This is too high up for my liking, the wolf retorted.
"Ha!" S’vanarr laughed, apparently overhearing their conversation, and dived steeply, K’yanae feeling thankful that she had strapped herself on tightly. The saddle seemed for a second to fall away from her, and then she was pulled down too as she hung on tightly to the saddle horn. At fifty feet above Bruenor and Catti-Brie, S’vanarr spread his wings and shot back upwards.
Wheee! K’yanae laughed. The wolf wailed, and buried its head in its paws.
"Flying is the greatest freedom," S’vanarr commented. Owl pulled up next to them, grumbling loudly at their having left it behind.
K’yanae offered a few conciliatory words. Owl squawked a retort, but stopped its grumbling.
"How old is it?" S’vanarr asked.
"Quite a bit," K’yanae smiled, "Owl’s old enough to enjoy being hand fed over hunting, but not quite decrepit yet."
Owl sniffed, apparently understanding this, and K’yanae pried loose the fingers of one hand to clutch at the Stone of Wings. "Would you like an entourage of birds?" she asked S’vanarr with an impulsive laugh.
"No thank you," S’vanarr replied, then did a dizzying roll sideways.
‘Inside’ her, the wolf was definitely not very happy about this.
***
Namaen’s wolf partner quickly padded behind a protruding rock in the mountain pass to allow two horse riders past – a dwarf and a human girl.
"Yer sure about this K’yanae, father?" the girl was saying. The wolf pricked up its ears.
"She’s Talon," the dwarf said, "And they don’t break their word. Suren she and the griffin will be useful when we reach Mithril Hall."
As if compelled, the wolf looked upwards, and saw a griffin flying high directly above the riders. There was a dark rider on the griffin, and the wolf noted that a small owl flew next to the rider. White hair streamed behind the rider, and Namaen’s heart missed a beat as he recognized her.
The wolf waited for a while until they had passed then padded after them.
***
"Something seems to be following us," S’vanarr remarked mildly, looking downwards.
K’yanae craned her neck, but she did not have the griffin’s sharp eyesight. "What is it?"
"A wolf, I believe," S’vanarr commented after a while.
"Wearing a collar?" K’yanae asked.
"You can see it?" S’vanarr asked in interest.
"A suspicion of mine," K’yanae sighed, "Fly down and catch it, would you?"
S’vanarr nodded, banking to allow Bruenor and Catti-Brie to ride a bit further, then abruptly swooped downwards. K’yanae saw a dark brown-white form breaking away from where it had been hidden.
"Oh no you don’t," S’vanarr muttered, but was clearly enjoying this as they swept down faster than the sprinting wolf, then he pounced. There was a frantic scuffle for a moment before K’yanae noted that S’vanarr had pinned down a wolf quite firmly and carefully.
"I suppose you don’t have to explain this, Namaen," K’yanae said severely, "Couldn’t you have stayed at the Citadel?" S’vanarr let go of the wolf, who picked itself up carefully. It twitched its ears, and K’yanae’s partner translated: I wanted to go with you.
K’yanae rolled her eyes. "No thank you," she said, "Now go back to the Citadel."
The wolf shook its head.
"You don’t understand?" K’yanae said slowly, "I don’t need you. Go away."
S’vanarr, who had been listening with interest, coughed. "Excuse me. Is this your boyfriend?"
"No!" K’yanae exploded, then calmed down. "Well, he thinks he is."
"I don’t see why he shouldn’t come along," S’vanarr said. "An extra pair of hands."
K’yanae glowered at the wolf. "Huh."
The wolf twitched its ears again. I am willing to help.
"Doing what?" K’yanae asked.
"Useful in a fight," S’vanarr commented.
K’yanae sighed. "Oh very well."
The sound of horse hooves became louder, and they looked up to see Bruenor and Catti-Brie looking at them and the wolf.
"Another werewolf?" Bruenor grunted. "Friend of yers?"
"Unfortunately," K’yanae said sourly, "He’d be coming along."
"Don’t see why not," Bruenor shrugged.
"Is everyone ganging up against me?" K’yanae protested.
"Perhaps," S’vanarr smiled. "We might as well be getting on now."
***
Namaen Changed behind a bush at camp and approached, wearing a simple shirt and trousers. He sat down next to K’yanae beside the fire, but she gave no notice that he had done so, pointedly ignoring him.
S’vanarr glanced at her, apparently not approving, but K’yanae ignored him as well. "Are you going for a run?" the griffin continued imperturbably, "You owe your wolf that much."
"Later," K’yanae said shortly.
"And this is?" Catti-Brie prompted, looking at Namaen with her blue eyes.
"Namaen," K’yanae said, "A childhood friend of mine." She then introduced the rest of the group to Namaen.
He’s a handsome lad, S’vanarr commented in her mind. The wolf agreed.
Mindspeak as well? S’vanarr, you continue to surprise me, K’yanae said, deliberately ignoring the griffin’s comment.
You’re hurting him on purpose, S’vanarr said sharply, And that is not very ‘nice’ of you.
Never claimed to be, K’yanae bit back, but she relented enough to speak to Namaen.
Later two wolves slipped out of camp, matching stride for joyous stride while the moon hung overhead like a misshapen lamp.
***
It was a long ways before they yet again reached the sight of the large city of Baldur’s Gate. K’yanae’s eyes narrowed as S’vanarr landed beside the others.
"Are we going in?" she asked.
"’Tis a long way to Silverymoon," the dwarf said, "An’ shorter to take a ship there."
"Well, I suppose we’d meet you further on," K’yanae said flatly.
"Suren yer going t’visit yer Citadel?" Catti-Brie asked. K’yanae shot her a glare.
"No," she said just as flatly, "See you later. S’vanarr?"
"Very well," S’vanarr said with an amused smile, then leaped back up into the air. "We’d find you later."
The wolf barked.
"And you," S’vanarr said before K’yanae could remark.
***
They took a circuitous run around Baldur’s Gate, and coasted comfortably on the rising wind of the Sea of Swords. K’yanae looked around with hungry eyes, and could spy, on the horizon to her right, the gold colored Anauroch Desert. There were several dark patches of forest and even a sizeable swamp, but she looked away.
With luck, a ship moved quickly in the waves as late afternoon came, and continued on a straight path northward. K’yanae patted S’vanarr’s neck, and the griffin took them downwards. Owl spluttered angrily after them until S’vanarr slowed and K’yanae allowed the owl to perch on the saddle to ride along.
The sailors started for their weapons when the large griffin landed on the decks, but Bruenor motioned them away and stumped towards them. "Had a good flight?" he asked.
"Windy up there," K’yanae said.
"But nonetheless cooling," S’vanarr bent down to allow K’yanae to dismount. "A fast ship you have here."
"Aye," Catti-Brie put in, "And a fair bit o’ money we paid fer it!"
Namaen surfaced onto the deck with a slightly embarrassed expression on his open face, and walked over to K’yanae.
"What did you do now?" she asked acidly.
"Well..." Namaen began hesitantly.
"You went to the Citadel and told them we were going to Mithril Hall?" K’yanae sighed.
"Yes," Namaen said, hanging his head like a chastised schoolboy.
"And what did they say?" S’vanarr prompted.
"The Master... that is, your father said that the Talons will provide backing when you need it as long as you or me stay in the group," Namaen said.
K’yanae was speechless for a long moment. "Why?" she spluttered, "I’m no longer a Talon. And you too ran away!"
"You’re his daughter," Namaen pointed out. "I’d say he has every right and power to stretch the rules like that."
K’yanae began to swell in rage, but S’vanarr put one of his talons on her shoulder. "Don’t worry about it," the griffin said cheerfully, "We’d need all the help we need for the upcoming fight. I take it the Battlehammer dwarves will be joining in?"
"Suren as the wind blows," Bruenor grunted.
"You see, rider," S’vanarr said expansively, "The best battle is when you outnumber the enemy several times."
"But we can see in the Viewing..." K’yanae began.
"It is not infallible," S’vanarr said, "And I did see something that was quite well hidden... never you mind. We’d see when we get there."
"Isn’t this rather foolish?" Namaen asked, "A small group going first – like a suicide mission."
"We have to scout the land," S’vanarr said, "Scrying is not exactly a very exact thing."
"Aye," Catti-Brie said, "And ye don’t want any surprises when ye fight!"
"Asur’s own truth," K’yanae sighed, then leaned over the rail to watch the foaming sea. Seagulls swooped in to raise their voices in a short salute, then reap the sea’s bounty in the form of fish.
***
Chapter 8: Pirate ship ahoy!
Morikan looked distinctly annoyed as he glared at the small silver-white globe that floated a few inches above his upturned right palm.
"Why shouldn’t they take a boat?" GrayWolf asked, "I mean, it’s a logical idea."
"Ship, GrayWolf," N’avsh murmured.
"Well, now they’ve managed to evade most of the...ah, locations," Hat’yet commented.
"I suppose I’d have to arrange something on their way back or something," Morikan sighed, "They have to pick up some people."
"Isn’t it fun arranging other’s destinies?" Shoshuna inquired sarcastically.
"That was unworthy of thee, sister," Belnarath said solemnly.
"Actually, it is fun," Rykvaz said.
"Which reminds me," N’avsh commented, "How’s that elemental of yours?"
"Going fine," Rykvaz smiled, "Thank you for asking."
"You can add N’avsh’s location," Hat’yet was saying, pointing out a spot on the globe.
"True," GrayWolf said.
"I suppose I might as well," Morikan said.
"You mean you wouldn’t?" N’avsh asked indignantly.
"Apologies, dear sister," Morikan remarked, "But it is going to be odd making them cross something they normally wouldn’t go... I suppose we had better ‘arrange’ matters again."
***
K’yanae looked at the endless waves with a sour expression, sunk in thought, so she was considerably startled when she felt S’vanarr’s talon on her shoulder.
"That was a high one," S’vanarr commented, with an amused chuckle.
"You’d had better not do it again," K’yanae said severely, "The Demon’s Blade hasn’t fed for sometime, and it’s getting restless."
"Which reminds me," S’vanarr said, "That weapon of yours severely puzzled the Elder Griffins."
"Why?" K’yanae asked, "I’d admit it looks rather morbid, but it’s not exactly frightening unless when it’s flying towards you at top speed with its mouth open."
"We have encountered such weapons before," S’vanarr said, "That take in blood, or life force. Normally they are sentient, or if not, then the blood or life force is changed into a healing energy that would be given to the owner of the weapon."
"Yet the blade does none of these," K’yanae said. "I see."
"I would hope so," S’vanarr said dryly, "So, who or what does the blade feed?"
"I don’t know," K’yanae said, "But it’s a valuable creature...thing, that is."
"I just hope it isn’t feeding any monsters," S’vanarr said seriously. "Have you seen Namaen?"
"Why this sudden interest in him?" K’yanae said suspiciously.
"He usually follows you around," S’vanarr said, "But he isn’t now."
"Huh," K’yanae said, "We’ve just recovered from a bit of a squall. Namaen gets seasick."
"Ah," S’vanarr said thoughtfully, "That why Catti-Brie is bringing him some tonics?"
"I suppose so," K’yanae said darkly, "Did you see the looks she gives him sometimes?"
"Jealous?" S’vanarr grinned, nudging K’yanae.
"No," K’yanae said, then dropped her defensive tone. "I shouldn’t be."
S’vanarr cocked his head at her. "The boy’s rather devoted to you," he grinned, "But you don’t seem to be."
"I don’t care either way," K’yanae said defiantly, "I think it’s still a bit early to speak about this."
"Better early than too late," S’vanarr said quietly.
"I feel like I’m living in a play," K’yanae glared furiously at the water, "First I run away, then I meet up conveniently with you..."
"Hardly conveniently," S’vanarr interrupted, "Your coming to the Bastion was carefully planned. You don’t need to look so shocked," he added quickly, "Griffins aren’t exactly paragons of virtue and pride as legend speaks of, you know."
"You mean the entire journey?" K’yanae asked in outrage.
"Not that," S’vanarr said, "But we saw you coming several miles away, and then started thinking about it."
"I see," K’yanae said, mollified, "That’s ok."
Owl dipped down into the seawater in front of K’yanae and surfaced manfully hauling on a large fish. Several times the fish, wriggling and squirming with all its might, caused Owl’s already jerky flight to sink down more towards the cool water, on which the bird would increase its frantic flapping.
"The bird doesn’t know its limits," S’vanarr remarked, as a particularly powerful flap of the fish’s tail overbalanced Owl precariously near the water, and only the most frantic efforts on its part allowed it to stay aloft.
"I would say it tries," K’yanae said, stretching out her hands to catch the exhausted bird when it came into range, depositing Owl and the resistant fish on the deck.
Owl ruffled its feathers, keeping most of its weight on the fish, which opened and closed its large mouth, gulping in air, then started to eat greedily.
"I don’t know why it still bothers," K’yanae grins, "I mean, I feed him some of my dinner if I can."
"Hunting gives one a deep and exciting thrill," S’vanarr grinned.
"If you’re the sadistic type," K’yanae retorted.
"Come, come," S’vanarr teased, "Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy it either."
"Well..." K’yanae began, then glowered as Catti-Brie emerged on deck with Namaen on tow, protesting vigorously, then the Talon shot K’yanae a look of mute appeal which she promptly ignored.
"Why don’t you go and save your friend?" S’vanarr inquired.
"He doesn’t seem in need of it," K’yanae said rather coldly.
"Sometimes you are very exasperating," S’vanarr said, then padded off in the direction of the others.
K’yanae sighed, and groped in her pockets until she found the tomato peel she had been saving from breakfast, and proceeded to throw strips of it out at the seagulls, which caught the with unerring accuracy in mid-flight.
S’vanarr reappeared at her side with Namaen, who turned paler, if that had been possible.
K’yanae decided to be a little more irritating. "How are you doing now?" she inquired solicitously.
"Fine," Namaen lied.
"Doing well under her care?" K’yanae noted that Bruenor had accosted his daughter on some matter out of earshot.
"We’re not doing anything, if that’s what you’re thinking," Namaen said quickly.
"Really," K’yanae said, doing her best to sound unconvinced. It was probably in most women, as she concluded later, to play cat and mouse with suitors. Maybe they liked being chased.
"I swear," Namaen said earnestly, then quickly changed the topic. "That’s a big fish Owl has."
"He had quite a job catching it," K’yanae said, making her voice flat and cold. "Not like Catti-Brie, don’t you think?"
S’vanarr had been watching them with an amused expression. You’re a very cruel person, K’yanae.
I know that, K’yanae replied calmly.
***
"Ship ahead sah!" the man at the crow’s nest roared.
"Ship ahead, sir!" Wryer, the first mate, in turn shouted to the unmoving heap in the chair vaguely near the front of the ship.
The heap stirred. "I can hear very well, thank you," a voice protested aggrievedly, "I mean, it’s not like I have a hearing problem."
"Sorry Capt’n." the first mate said cheerfully. "Do we attack it?"
"Of course we attack it," the captain said sourly, uncurling himself from his chair, which had been draped with soft banners from other ships they had destroyed. "We’re pirates, aren’t we? Use your mind, man."
"There’s a large bird board’her sah!" the lookout roared.
The captain winced. "Wryer," he said solemnly.
"Yes sir?" the first mate snapped to attention.
"Remind me not to have spiced wine for breakfast," the captain said seriously, "A large bird? We’d eat well tonight then. Commendable eyesight, that man."
"It’s got a lion bottom and an eagle top sah!" the lookout shouted over the wind.
"You don’t have to shout," the captain said with the resignation of one who was used to having such simple orders disobeyed. "Val, have you been drinking?"
"It’s truth sah!" the lookout lowered his voice.
"Give me that," the captain said, taking a looking glass from a nearby sailor, who grinned at him. "Hmm. A griffin this far north?"
"Griffin?" Wryer asked.
"Buggers," the captain said, "Good in a fight, I heard."
"Can be eaten?" Wryer inquired.
"Get the archers here," the captain sighed, "We’d board her, shoot down the griffin, and then find out if it’s edible. And remember no one’s going to scuttle that ship! She looks faster than this junk we’re on...no axes! Doesn’t anyone listen?"
***
"There’s a ship coming," S’vanarr remarked.
The captain squinted into the seas. "Ye’ve got a goot eye, guv’nor," he said in the amiable, tongue-twisting language of the streets.
"I’m not a governor, whatever you’re saying," S’vanarr said, "And I think it’s lowering it’s flag."
"Pirate ship ahoy!" the lookout yelled.
"Ah," S’vanarr said calmly, and as if this remark was some cue, the entire deck burst into frantic action.
"What’s happening?" K’yanae inquired, leading a chastened Namaen towards the griffin.
"Pirate ship," S’vanarr said succinctly, "Any of you for an adventure on the high seas? A little fight to invigorate the blood?"
"If they’ve any sense, like I think they should," K’yanae said sourly, "They’d have archers."
"I agree with S’vanarr," Catti-Brie walked up to them, "We’d teach them that ‘tis not advisable to board our ship."
"Aye," Bruenor materialized, grinning. "Yer up to it, wolves?"
"We just need someone to get rid of the archers," K’yanae said gloomily.
"I can do that," S’vanarr said, "If you can fight blind."
"Father taught us how," K’yanae said, "He thought it was important."
"I kin do it," Catti-Brie said, "T’ dwarven tunnels are dark indeed."
"Done, then," S’vanarr said enthusiastically, "Ah, captain. Care to head for the pirate ship so we can board them?"
The captain stared at them, then his face broke into an evil grin. "Ye’re gin’t tich ‘em a lessin?"
"Good man," S’vanarr said, "Now please?"
***
"They’re heading for us sah!" roared the lookout.
The captain winced again. "Oh well. I like a ship with spirit. And it does save our tattered sails the trouble."
He drew his cutlass with as much care as an old lady would turn a heel while stitching a sock. Studiously, he checked its gleaming blade, noting its bluish gleam of tempered steel, and the hilt encrusted with black opals and onyx nuggets. Nonetheless, it was comfortable to hold. The captain was very insistent on comfort.
"Let’s get us some treasure," he grinned.
***
Chapter 9: ‘Tis the Black Fox!
"Do you want to wolf?" K’yanae inquired with an impish grin to Namaen.
"Wolves don’t deflect swords well," Catti-Brie pointed out.
"True, I suppose," K’yanae said, casting Catti-Brie an annoyed glance. "S’vanarr, are you going to do the something to the archers soon?"
"About now," S’vanarr said, and concentrated. Then he pointed, rather theatrically, with one talon.
The pirate ship was abruptly transformed into a large ball of blackness.
"Isn’t that a ball of darkness, a drow spell?" K’yanae inquired.
"Technically," S’vanarr agreed, "You can do it?"
"No," K’yanae said, "Just that my Father’s horribly fond of springing it on me."
"One question, guv’nor," the captain said hesitantly, "How’re me crew goin’t board when we cain’t see nuthin’?"
"We’d board first," S’vanarr said, "And break all the strings of their bows and kick their cannons overboard..."
"Spraining our ankles in the process... sorry, S’vanarr," K’yanae grinned.
"Then I’d dispel the globe and you can proceed," S’vanarr said grandly, "Or if you’d like, you can leave us the fun."
"T’ain’t right to leave us outta it," another sailor piped in with a grin.
"True," Bruenor said with a thoughtful expression on his gruff face, "Ah well."
As it turned out, this plan did not exactly work out. The captain carefully maneuvered the ship such that its side was parallel to the other ship when it was close enough, with S’vanarr’s direction, then the ship shook as it loosed several cannon balls, along with a deep boom.
There were a few desultory splashes, but a crash of splintering timber signaled that some had actually hit.
"Don sink ‘em!" the captain roared, "Ye’ve gotta get them treasure!"
"Incredibly practical," Namaen murmured.
"He is a sea captain," K’yanae agreed.
There were a few muttered grumbles, then a sharp voice cried from somewhere inside the darkness, "Shoot, you useless buggers!"
The wind was nearly all swept away by the wind, but K’yanae glanced at Namaen, their wolf partners having filtered out the sound, then both cried, "Down!"
Promptly, the crew flattened themselves onto the deck like a lot of falling leaves while arrows whistled overboard to hit the mast or fly over the side.
"Damn ‘em!" the captain cried, "Shoot ‘em back, boys!"
There was another resounding boom, and more sounds of splintering wood.
"Like child’s play," S’vanarr whispered, disentangling his wing from some coils of rope, "You hit me, I hit you back. You hit me again, I hit you back harder."
"Give and take," K’yanae said, a wolfish grin on her face, "Are we boarding soon?"
There was a hiss of rope and a sound like a stifled rifle shot, then grappling hooks dug into the sides of the ship, and the two ships were pulled together.
"Cain’t shoot him now, the dog," the captain spat, "Rock me own ship. Weel, good luck to ye."
"And same to ye," Bruenor said solemnly, cramming on his helmet, "Ye have the responsibility o’ cuttin down any dog that gets across."
"An’ weel take it, won’t we, boys?" the captain grinned, to a rousing cheer from his crew.
"And off we go!" S’vanarr laughed, pirouetting gracefully over to the other deck.
K’yanae laughed and followed, picking out vague heat patterns that marked some bewildered pirates. Though she did have some of the infrared eyesight that her father had, it was greatly diminished from lack of use. Besides, if she used it for more than half an hour, it gave her a splitting headache.
She unstrapped the Demon’s Blade and loosed it, with explicit instructions. It hissed away, and after a while there was a
scream somewhere in front. Then several more.
Owl fluttered into the face of a pirate, tearing into him with his sharp talons, and K’yanae made use of this to throw a dagger at the victim, causing him to fall with a grunt.
K’yanae used the element of confusion and surprise to slide the sword into a pirate, then a Sembian blade into his comrade, flailing blindly with a cutlass at the pirate’s death cry.
From the confused shouts around her it sounded like the rest were doing very well, especially when Bruenor started singing a dwarf war cry, with S’vanarr somewhere joining in.
K’yanae smiled to herself, and dispatched several more pirates, slashing them across the throat and stabbing them in precise places. Once she ran into Namaen, his chain mail already stained with blood, or rather the wolf smelt him out, and he called a greeting before presumably hitting someone with his sword.
"Do you think it’s gone long enough?" S’vanarr inquired when the confusion died down somewhat. "Damn you. Did I say you could use that bow, you ‘orrible man? I mean... hey! Serve you right."
"Might as well," Bruenor shouted.
There was a pause, then the darkness dissipated. Then their crew, after a short hesitation, swarmed onto the pirate ship, most of them disappearing below decks to get at the treasure. The others promptly engaged what few pirates were left.
The Demon’s Blade had backed someone into a corner, where he was methodically fending it off with a cutlass and a dagger.
>From the looks of it, K’yanae concluded as she approached, he was the ship’s captain, for his clothing was slightly finer than the others were, but not much. Several stains and a smell proclaimed the pirate captain to have a weakness for wines. He had a full head of tawny gold hair, and sea-blue eyes full of cynical intelligence. His face was long with prominent cheekbones, and his height and a slight stoop made him look like a gaunt vulture.
K’yanae held out her left hand, and the Demon’s Blade obediently returned to it, hissing and snarling to itself. Owl winged over and settled on her shoulder, hooting.
"You’re good," she said, though cautiously held her sword dangerously low.
The captain also lowered his sword. "Thank you," he said, "I say, that was a good board you did."
"You don’t sound like a pirate." K’yanae said.
"That’s not difficult," the captain sighed, "Look, can you get on with it? I am going to state now that I will not kill myself in order not to be taken. Neither am I going to be in any condition to walk any planks of any kind except those of a deck of a ship. As for that ‘shiver me timbers’ sort of thing, the gods know that my timbers have been shivered enough, as well as holed."
K’yanae grinned, and opened her mouth to reply, but the captain of her ship materialized at her elbow.
"Thought ye’d want summat o’help," he said, then his eyes widened when he looked at the other captain. "Weel, as I live an’ die! ‘Tis the Black Fox!"
"Thank you for reminding me of my overrated and inaccurate nickname," the pirate captain said wearily, "I have no idea why I accorded that nickname, and I don’t want to know."
"They say he’s run an’ sunk more ships than anyone and all thru’ his ‘tactics’," the captain continued on obliviously.
The pirate captain eyed the destruction of his ship. "No one’s infallible," he said. "Now, are you going to run me through with that horrible looking sword? I warn you I’d try to defend myself, though I can’t imagine why."
K’yanae stared at him, then started to laugh, long and loud.
"Oh good," the pirate captain went on, "You’re going to gloat first."
"On the contrary," K’yanae said, "I was wondering if you’d like to follow me."
"What are you, a missionary?" the pirate captain asked.
"In other words, considering your pessimistic personality..." K’yanae began.
"Thank you," the captain murmured.
"You have a choice of either playing with my dagger here for a while more until you tire and it sucks all the blood out of your body slowly, or you can serve me." K’yanae said calmly.
"He’d escape ye," the captain of her ship said darkly, "The Black Fox ain’t one t’be trusted, young lady."
"Thank you for that vote of confidence," the pirate captain said dryly, "Well, I don’t have much choice, do I?"
"I can widen it to running you through with my sword," K’yanae suggested, "But if you lose you’d still serve me."
"And if I win?" the pirate captain asked.
"Then I run ye through yer mangy hide," the other captain grinned, "Seems to me th’young lady’s offer ain’t that bad."
"Eternal slavery?" the pirate captain mused, "I’ve had worse, I suppose. Very well."
"Right," K’yanae said, "I need an oath."
"In blood?" the pirate captain asked sarcastically, "Or are you going to do some of that unhygienic spitting business?"
"Just an oath," K’yanae said, "And I trust you won’t break it."
"My word on it," the pirate captain said solemnly, his eyes darting to the Demon’s Blade, which hissed malevolently at him. "My word, that’s an ugly weapon."
"It’s interesting how you managed to evade it in the darkness," K’yanae said.
"This blade dispels magic in a radius," the pirate captain said, "At will. Of course I could see it, but it was incredibly resilient."
"Yer be sorry, girl," the captain grinned, "Fer me, I’d clap ‘im in chains."
"A deal’s a deal," K’yanae said firmly, "Let’s go and see what the rest are up to."
"Stealin’ yer treasure," the captain grinned.
"I suppose so," the pirate captain sighed.
"What’s your name?" K’yanae inquired.
"Vorkai," the pirate captain said, "And you’re K’yanae Do’Urden, I would imagine, daughter of Zaknafein."
"Does everyone know Father?" K’yanae asked, annoyed.
"Anyone who plies the trade of the sword coast," Vorkai said, "If you do know, your Father has fitted out several incredibly fast ships and is using them to rob other ships. It’s a lucrative trade."
"I know," K’yanae grinned, "He collects protection money from other ships. How did you know they were Talon ships?"
"We ran into one once," Vorkai said ruefully, "Cost me a quarter of my crew. From up close, any body of men who all wear armor and cloaks to cover their insignias is quite obvious."
"Yer Father’s a right bully," the captain of the other ship said just as ruefully, though he kept a suspicious eye on Vorkai.
"Don’t worry," K’yanae grinned, "If this passage of us is free and good, I’d tell him to give you a year’s free."
"Why, thankee," the captain grinned, "Now I’d be going’ta see how me boys are goin’ before they cheat me of me share."
"I collected that treasure at great work," Vorkai complained, "It’s hard to find ships with really good hoards."
"Life has its ups and downs," K’yanae said philosophically.
S’vanarr padded up to them, then looked carefully at Vorkai as if assessing a bit of meat at the butcher’s. Owl hooted a greeting, then continued to preen itself carefully.
"Hello griffin," Vorkai sighed, "For a matter of curiosity, are you edible?"
S’vanarr looked startled, then started to laugh. "As edible as you are," he smiled, "But anyone who tries..." he curled his talons into a claw, and blood was visible on the metal-tipped edges.
"Why do you ask?" K’yanae inquired.
"Nothing important," Vorkai said hastily, looking at the powerful lines of the griffin.
"Are you the pirate captain?" S’vanarr asked.
"Was," Vorkai said, "This ship is sinking, and I have no crew. Besides, your friend here has blackmailed me into servitude."
"You sound like you’re used to it," K’yanae observed.
"I’ve had my downs in life," Vorkai said, "One doesn’t start a pirate, you know."
"Servitude?" S’vanarr flicked his ear tufts.
"One more ally," K’yanae grinned, "And a wily one, to think of it."
"I must be getting rusty," Vorkai complained, looking at the large splintered holes in his deck.
***
Chapter 10: Welcome to Neverwinter
"How did you become a pirate?" Namaen inquired.
Vorkai leant on the side of the ship thoughtfully. "Long story," he said, "To make it short, I once was a tutor both academically and on weapons to a certain son of a certain influential noble. Unfortunately, I also had... ah..."
"Itchy hands," K’yanae supplied.
"To put it crudely, yes," Vorkai said, "The noble had a very interesting cutlass that he had bought from a retired ship captain in Baldur’s Gate. It negated magic," he said, "And I was lured by its dark shine."
"How poetic," K’yanae said dryly.
"Oh very well," Vorkai said grudgingly, "It looked damn beautiful, and I liked it. I devised a way past his not-inconsiderable defenses..."
"And pinched it," Namaen suggested.
"Look, do you want to hear the story?" Vorkai asked.
"Yes," S’vanarr approached to stand next to K’yanae.
"Oh. It’s you," Vorkai said unenthusiastically, "Well, the noble found out about it, assumed immediately and coincidentally that it was my fault, and set the authorities on me. I escaped like any man should, on the next ship out of the harbor."
"This same ship had a bad case of pirates," Vorkai said, "And young man that I was, I was sworn in as the captain thought my swordsmanship quite remarkable." He said this last without any trace of modesty.
"Later when I suggested ways around the universally accepted ways of confrontational pirate tactics, I rose in ‘rank’ to first mate," Vorkai said, "Oddly the rest of the crew were rather fond of me, though they did label my tactics the ‘fox’s slips’, earning my nickname."
"Later the captain decided to retire before it was too late for a pirate," Vorkai continued dryly, "And promoted me to his successor. If not for a tendency to shout loudly and forget orders, pirates are actually a very rowdy and likeable bunch. Now, can someone explain to me why I am called the ‘Black’ fox?"
"Yer heart’s black as sin?" Bruenor suggested.
"If my heart were black I would firstly probably be sick from smoking, which I don’t – disgusting habit – and secondly be quite dead." Vorkai said.
"Most pirates are called Black something," S’vanarr said, "It’s tradition."
"Ah, tradition," Vorkai said sourly.
***
The weather got colder and colder as they progressed north, until only S’vanarr, who didn’t really count, and Bruenor, who always wore the same things anyway, did not wear extra clothing.
"Sometimes I wish I had a feather coat as thick as yours," K’yanae said a trifle enviously to S’vanarr.
"Easy," the griffin said, "Pray really hard for reincarnation, then kill yourself, then gamble."
"Maybe if we shear off your feathers..." Vorkai suggested, shivering as he wrapped himself more tightly in his thick coat.
"I’d like to see you try," S’vanarr retorted. "K’yanae, where’s that owl of yours?"
K’yanae pushed her coat apart to show Owl cradled in the crook of one hand with a blissful expression on its face which quickly changed to that of an irritated squawk at being disturbed.
"You’re babying an old owl?" S’vanarr asked in mock horror. "Sentimentality? You?"
"Rather an old friend," K’yanae replied.
"If you’d really like to get warm I could give you a hug," S’vanarr grinned.
"No thanks," K’yanae shuddered, "You smell like lots of old carpets."
"I most certainly do not," the griffin retorted.
"He doesn’t," Vorkai agreed, "He smells like fermented old carpets."
"You stay out of this!" S’vanarr glared at Vorkai.
"It’s too cold to fly," K’yanae sighed.
"It’s never too cold to fly," S’vanarr disagreed.
"Mayhap for you," Namaen said, "But I wouldn’t like to be freezing my ears off a thousand feet up anyhow."
"Thank you, Namaen," K’yanae said solemnly.
"I’m going for a flight anyway," S’vanarr said, launching himself ponderously into the air.
"Remarkable," Vorkai said, watching the griffin’s increasingly graceful ascent.
"Where are we alighting?" K’yanae asked of the ship’s captain, known now as Kirk.
"Neverwinter," Kirk answered, "They’ve got a good port an’ customs come t’naught, an’ a goot market fer th’booty we’ve got." He winked at Vorkai.
"You’re a hard man, captain," Vorkai said with a grieved expression.
"Neverwinter..." K’yanae mused, "Isn’t that the place with the large bird riders?"
"Yes," Kirk said, "Right tight arsed people they are."
K’yanae winced. "A bit less of the language, captain. We’d take our leave of you there... but not of Vorkai."
"Damn," Vorkai said with feeling.
"You’d be tagging along," K’yanae said firmly, "While we go and poke around for Bruenor’s ancestral home. And don’t try anything funny or I’d send the Demon’s Blade after you."
"I won’t," Vorkai said fervently, as the aforementioned blade hissed at him.
"Good," K’yanae said, "Can we get horses in Neverwinter?"
"I assume ‘tis so," Kirk said.
***
Even from a mile away they could see the immense tower of the central building of Neverwinter, and the large shapes of the great birds and, presumably, their riders.
"Neverwinter," Kirk announced grandly as the ship pulled into the harbor. A rider and his immense falcon landed carefully on the deck of the ship, and leaped agilely down.
"Which of you are the captain?" he asked, brandishing a bit of paper.
Kirk stepped forward, "’Tis me," he admitted.
The rider looked sharply at K’yanae, then at S’vanarr, and last of all at Vorkai. "You’ve got a right strange cargo, captain." He remarked.
"That I have," the captain said, "What’s wit this?" he asked, pointing to the wad of papers.
"Customs," the rider said desultorily, dropping them into the captain’s hands, "Requires a few signatures, that sort of thing. You don’t need to hand it in until you land your ship."
"Dock," the captain corrected absently.
"Whatever," the rider said, "Business?"
"Trading," Kirk said with a evil grin at Vorkai.
"We’d be buyin’ transport an’ leaving immediately," Bruenor said.
The rider made a note on a materialized notebook. "I see. Length of stay, captain?"
"Probably a mite few days," Kirk said, "Gotta rid meself of me cargo."
Vorkai was grumbling darkly to himself.
"Will you be locking the Black Fox up here?" the rider asked, looking at Vorkai.
"He’d be a-following us," Catti-Brie said.
"Very well," the rider said, "When you’ve finished the papers you can keep them I suppose. We usually lose them anyway. Everything seems to be in order... welcome to Neverwinter."
***
K’yanae flew with Owl and S’vanarr in a circuit away from the city to meet up with Bruenor and the rest later up the road southeastwards towards Mithril Hall. She didn’t want to be held up in Neverwinter – from several vague memories of Father’s rare incoherent rants at Morikan, he’d gotten involved in something momentous in the city, and she did not want to be embroiled in any backlashes.
They entered a cool forest after a few hours, then soon began looking for a place of shelter until S’vanarr’s sharp eyes picked out what looked like an abandoned cottage, then led the rest over there.
When they landed on the grass, a few horses materialized from behind the cottage to trot forward to investigate them, unafraid. K’yanae saw the mares with foals protectively at the back, then a huge stallion pranced forward, shooting them an imperious glare. All of them were a deep, rich black in color.
"By the gods," Vorkai said, reining in his horse expertly, "That must be the biggest stallion I’ve ever seen."
"Try coming down to the Citadel," K’yanae said absently. Black horses – cottage –forest... "I think this was Father’s old home."
"As Asur’s guardian," Namaen agreed, "I thought he burned it down."
"Father doesn’t have much incendiary urges," K’yanae said, "And the place is too important."
"Will they be lettin’ us in?" Bruenor demanded, glancing at the lead stallion.
"Oh yes," K’yanae said with a grin, "Why not?" Stalking boldly forward, she then extended her hand to allow the horse to sniff. It snorted at the scent of werewolf, rolling its eyes, then stopped its nervous dance of hooves to stand quivering.
"Shoo," K’yanae told it, and it stared at her before turning abruptly and leading its harem back behind the cottage.
"How’d you know how to do that?" Namaen asked.
"I seem to remember being brought here a long time ago," K’yanae said, "The horses recognize me. They’re actually descendants of an original two owned by Drizzt and Quetzal Do’Urden."
"The twins that ah... passed on?" Namaen asked.
"Oh yes," K’yanae said, "Sometimes I wish I could have met them."
"Can we spend th’night in the place?" Catti-Brie asked, "’Tis gettin’ too cold for me tastes."
"Certainly," K’yanae said, walking to the door, Owl climbing out laboriously onto her shoulder, clicking its beak, and pushed it. The door opened noiselessly and willingly, and the dead fireplace burst into flames when she entered.
Namaen stepped in eagerly, looking around in wonder. "Asur’s place," he said.
S’vanarr walked in, careful not to hit his head on the ceiling, and immediately curled up in front of the fire. As an afterthought, Owl flew onto him and nestled on one folded wing.
"That ain’t fair," Bruenor grinned, "Yer fur coat’s enough fer ye to sleep in the snow."
"Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be comfortable," S’vanarr commented in a muffled voice.
"There’s two rooms at the back," K’yanae said, "I’d be sleeping in the hall."
"I kin stay with me dad in one," Catti-Brie said.
Namaen looked at Vorkai. "Can’t we go on a run?" he asked K’yanae rather plaintively.
"I don’t have any contagious diseases," Vorkai said with a cynical grin, "Something wrong?"
"Nothing much," K’yanae said, "Unless you’d like to find out your rooming companion is suddenly a wolf in the middle of the night."
"I see," Vorkai said. "Um."
"We’d go for a run," K’yanae said decisively, ignoring the dark look Catti-Brie shot her, "See you in the morning, everyone."
Lledrith RavenWolf
© 1998-1999 Dragon's Library & Ulrike Großmann