"Cunningham, Elaine - Forgotten Realms - Starlight And Shadows Trilogy 02 - Tangled Webs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cunningham Elaine)

Hrolfhauled himself to his feet and walked stiff-Iegged over to the door of his cell. "It's glad I am to see you again, lass, but you shouldn't ha' come," he said in a softer tone.

" Just a day or two more, and they'll be setting me free."

The drow sniffed derisively and bent down to examine the locks on the cell door. "Sure, if by freedom you mean a couple of years of enforced labor. It'll take you at least that long to work off the damage done to that tavern."

"Gull splat!" he said heartily, dismissing this dire prediction with a wave of one enormous hand. "The penalty for tavern brawls is never more than a few days' stay in this sow's bowels of a dungeon."

"The Skulls decided to change the law in your honor," Liriel responded, referring to the trio of disembodied skulls that appeared randomly in Skullport to pass sentence on miscreants. "The idea of waiting around for years doesn't appeal to me. I'd rather fight our way from here to the docks and have done."

"Not a bit of it," Hrolf insisted. "Laws are all good and well-fighting's better, of course-but bribes, now! That's the way for a sensible man to do business! And no place bet tern Skullport for it, so don't you worry yourself The

Elfmaid came to port fully loaded. A bundle of ermine skins and a few bolts of fine Moonshae linen should serve." Liriel cocked an eyebrow. "Did I mention that your ship and cargo have been impounded?"

That was true, as far as it went, and as much truth as the drow wanted him to hear. Although it appeared Hrolf's freedom was not for sale, Liriel had already managed to buy free the ship and the crew. She thought it better to let Hrolf think otherwise. By all accounts, the captain took his ship's well-being more seriously than his own.

"Took the Elfmaid, did they?" The captain pondered this development, chewing his mustache reflectively. "Well then, that's different. Fighting it is!"

The drow nodded her agreement. She quickly cast a cantrip, a minor spell that would reveal any magic placed upon the locks. When no telltale glow appeared, Liriel took a small bundle from her bag and carefully removed the wraps that padded a small glass vial. With infinite care she unstoppered the vial and poured a single drop of black liquid onto each of the chains and locks.

A faint hiss filled the air, and the locks sagged and melted as the distilled venom of a black dragon ate through the metal. It was a pricey solution, but it was quick and quiet, and Liriel had no real need to practice thrift. Just days earlier, she had led a raid on a rival drow stronghold and claimed a share of the massive treasure hoard buried there. Her share would take her to Ruathym in style, with enough left over to hide a cache or two for future use. Yet there was a strange tightness in Liriel's throat as she remembered the battle and the friends who had fallen there. One of those friends, although gravely wounded, had survived and was awaiting her even now on Hrolf's ship. Just thinking of Fyodor, and his own great need to reach Ruathym, heightened her impatience.

Motioning for Hrolf to stand back, she kicked open the door, keeping a careful distance from the still-melting chains. Dragon venom could eat through boot leather-not to mention flesh and bone-as easily as it dissolved metal. The captain watched, intrigued, as Liriel set the enspelled statue on the bed and triggered its song. His face lit up with pride as his own song poured forth from the little figure.

"That'll keep 'em away for a bit," he observed with a touch of wry humor. Obviously, Liriel concluded, the man held a realistic view of his musical talents.

Hrolf turned to regard the drow with obvious respect. "I was glad enough to offer you passage on the strength of your smile, but to be getting a ship's wizard in the bargain! With your magic, lass, we're as good as a-sail. May Umberlee take me if I'm not getting better at picking my friends!" he concluded happily.

Liriel cast a startled glance at the man's blu' cheerful face. His easy claim of friendship struck her as odd. She'd met him only once, shortly before he'd begun the spectacular brawl that landed him in this predicament. He seemed a companionable sort, and she was glad to have found passage with an able captain who could also fight like a bee-stung bear. But friendship was still new to her and not something to be taken lightly. For a moment she envied these shortlived humans, who seemed to come to it so easily.

"We're still a long way from the ship," Liriel reminded the man. She stripped off the extra swordbelt she carried and handed it to him. He buckled it on without a word and then drew the sword, regarding its keen edge with pleasure. After a few practice swings to get the feel of the blade and to awaken muscles stiff from disuse, he followed the drow out into the tunnel.

The way was lit by an occasional torch thrust into a wall bracket, so Hrolfwas able to walk with assurance, if not silence. The drow set a slow, steady pace, trying to minimize the noise of Hrolf's heavy footsteps. She could fight well when necessary, but she knew the wisdom of avoiding trouble. So far, despite the encounter with the magic-wielding ghoul, breaching the dungeon's defenses had seemed almost too easy. But then, no one expected anyone to try to sneak in. Liriel suspected that getting out would be another matter entirely.

A faint sound caught her ear. From a nearby passage came the reverberating tread of many boots and the guttural speech of goblinkin. She pushed Hrolf into an alcove and shielded them both with her sheltering piwafwi. To her relief, Hrolf the Unruly did not protest this precaution or leap out roaring to engage the goblins in battle. The captain and the drow waited for many moments, then watched silently as the guards marched past in sharp formation. They were squat, muscular creatures-goblin hybrids of some sort-broad as dwarves and haphazardly garbed in ill-fitting, cast-off leather armor. Obviously overfed and underpaid, the guards nevertheless carried a daunting assortment of well-honed weapons. All told, there were twelve of them, enough to give pause even to the darkelven and the unruly.

The goblin patrol halted in the tunnel ahead, gibbering among themselves and shouldering off the packs they carried. Liriel muttered a curse.

"What're they doing?" Hrolf asked, his voice just above a whisper.

"Taking a break," she responded in kind. Whispering caused the voice to carry too far, and Liriel was frequently amazed that few humans seemed to realize this. Dark elves whispered when they intended to be heard-the audible equivalent of a knowing smile.

"They're blocking the tunnel," the drow added grimly, "and we don't have time to wait them out."

The captain pondered this for a moment, and then patted the short sword strapped to Liriel's hip. "I've heard tell that a drow can take a dozen goblins, easy."

The girl shrugged. She could handle a sword well enough and throw knives with deadly precision, but her skills were slanted more toward magic than mayhem. "Some drow can. I'm not one of them."

"Ah, but do yonder goblins know that?"