Маргарет Уэйс - Dragons of Spring Dawning

“But the knight was halted in his journey by elven women, disciples of the Kingpriest, who knew of Lord Soth’s crime and threatened to ruin him. To weaken the effects of the elfmaid’s love, they intimated that she had been unfaithful to him in his absence.

“Soth’s passions took hold of him, destroying his reason. In a jealous rage he rode back to Dargaard Keep. Entering his door, he accused the innocent girl of betraying him. Then the Cataclysm struck. The great chandelier in the entryway fell to the floor, consuming the elfmaid and her child in flames. As she died, she called down a curse upon the knight, condemning him to eternal, dreadful life. Soth and his followers perished in the fire, only to be reborn in hideous form.”

“So this is what he hears,” Ariakas murmured, listening.

Bakaris slept fitfully in his jail cell. Though haughty and insolent during the day, his nights were tortured by erotic dreams of Kitiara and fearful dreams of his execution at the hands of the Knights of Solamnia. Or perhaps it was his execution at Kitiara’s hands. He was never certain, when he woke in a cold sweat, which it had been. Lying in his cold cell in the still hours of the night when he could not sleep, Bakaris cursed the elven woman who had been the cause of his downfall. Over and over he plotted his revenge upon her—if only she would fall into his hands.

Bakaris was thinking of this, hovering between sleep and wakefulness, when the sound of a key in the lock of his cell door brought him to his feet. It was near dawn, near the hour of execution! Perhaps the knights were coming for him!

“Who is it?” Bakaris called harshly.

“Hush!” commanded a voice. “You are in no danger, if you keep quiet and do as you are told.”

Bakaris sat back down on his bed in astonishment. He recognized the voice. How not? Night after night it had spoken in his vengeful thoughts. The elf woman! And the commander could see two other figures in the shadows, small figures. The dwarf and the kender, most likely. They always hung around the elf woman.

The cell door opened. The elf woman glided inside. She was heavily cloaked and carried another cloak in her hand.

“Hurry,” she ordered coldly. “Put this on.”

“Not until I know what this is about,” Bakaris said suspiciously, though his soul sang for joy.

“We are exchanging you for... for another prisoner,” Laurana replied.

Bakaris frowned. He mustn’t seem too eager.

“I don’t believe you,” he stated, lying back down on his bed. “It’s a trap—”

“I don’t care what you believe!” Laurana snapped impatiently. “You’re coming if I have to knock you senseless! It won’t matter whether you are conscious or not, just so long as I’m able to exhibit you to Kiti—the one wants you!”

Kitiara! So that was it. What was she up to? What game was she playing? Bakaris hesitated. He didn’t trust Kit any more than she trusted him. She was quite capable of using him to further her own ends, which is undoubtedly what she was doing now. But perhaps he could use her in return. If only he knew what was going on! But looking at Laurana’s pale, rigid face, Bakaris knew that she was quite prepared to carry out her threat. He would have to bide his time.

“It seems I have no choice,” he said. Moonlight filtered through a barred window into the filthy cell, shining on Bakaris’s face. He’d been in prison for weeks. How long he didn’t know, he’d lost count. As he reached for the cloak, he caught Laurana’s cold green eyes, which were fixed on him intently, narrow slightly in disgust.

Self-consciously, Bakaris raised his good hand and scratched the new growth of beard.

“Pardon, your ladyship,” he said sarcastically, “but the servants in your establishment have not thought fit to bring me a razor. I know how the sight of facial hair disgusts you elves!”

To his surprise, Bakaris saw his words draw blood. Laurana’s face turned pale, her lips chalk-white. Only by a supreme effort did she control herself. “Move!” she said in a strangled voice.

At the sound, the dwarf entered the room, hand on his battle-axe. “You heard the general,” Flint snarled. “Get going. Why your miserable carcass is worth trading for Tanis—”

“Flint!” said Laurana tersely.

Suddenly Bakaris understood! Kitiara’s plan began to take shape in his mind.

“So—Tanis! He’s the one I’m being exchanged for.” He watched Laurana’s face closely. No reaction. He might have been speaking of a stranger instead of a man Kitiara had told him was this woman’s lover. He tried again, testing his theory. “I wouldn’t call him a prisoner, however, unless you speak of a prisoner of love. Kit must have tired of him. Ah, well. Poor man. I’ll miss him. He and I have much in common—”

Now there was a reaction. He saw the delicate jaws clench, the shoulders tremble beneath the cloak. Without a word, Laurana turned and stalked out of the cell. So he was right. This had something to do with the bearded half-elf. But what? Tanis had left Kit in Flotsam. Had she found him again? Had he returned to her? Bakaris fell silent, wrapping the cloak around him. Not that it mattered, not to him. He would be able to use this new information for his own revenge. Recalling Laurana’s strained and rigid face in the moonlight, Bakaris thanked the Dark Queen for her favors as the dwarf shoved him out the cell door.

The sun had not risen yet, although a faint pink line on the eastern horizon foretold that dawn was an hour or so away. It was still dark in the city of Kalaman—dark and silent as the town slept soundly following its day and night of revelry. Even the guards yawned at their post or, in some cases, snored as they slept soundly. It was an easy task for the four heavily cloaked figures to flit silently through the streets until they came to a small locked door in the city wall.