Кейт Новак - Song of the Saurials

Mourngrym looked over the ashes lying beside Kyre’s equipment and shook his head regretfully. “It doesn’t look good, Alias,” he said softly.

“I can’t believe Akabar would do such a thing,” the swordswoman said. “Something else must have attacked them.”

“Then why isn’t Akabar’s body in a pile of ash on the carpeting?” Breck snarled. He was shaking with anger and barely controlled grief.

“How do you know those aren’t his ashes mingled in with Kyre’s?” Alias retorted hotly.

Zhara moaned and sank to the bed. Dragonbait glared at the swordswoman, but Alias ignored him. She couldn’t afford to be tactful for Zhara’s sake. She had to clear Akabar’s reputation.

“If he was incinerated along with Kyre, too,” Breck said, “his boots would be here.”

“He was wearing rope sandals,” Alias argued.

“And he didn’t carry a single piece of metal with him?” Breck asked.

That, Alias realized, was hardly likely. She changed her tack. “Whoever killed Kyre could have carried Akabar off,” she stated. “Grypht might have returned and eaten him, for all you know.”

Zhara gave a keening wail. The swordswoman shot an annoyed look at Akabar’s wife. Dragonbait nudged Alias angrily with his elbow.

“I believe Grypht has indeed carried off Akabar,” a voice said, “but the beast appears to prefer greenery to human flesh. Akabar is still alive.”

Everyone looked around. Standing in the new entrance to the room that Zhara had fashioned with her magic was Morala. The old priestess leaned heavily on Captain Thurbal’s arm, but she was smiling.

“I have just been scrying upon Grypht. He was carrying a southern mage dressed in a red-and-white-striped robe,” Morala said.

“Akabar!” Zhara cried out eagerly. “His robes are red and white!”

“Then he is in league with Grypht!” Breck declared.

Mourngrym exchanged a distressed look with Alias. “Was Akabar being carried off by force, Morala, or using the beast as a mount?” his lordship asked.

“Akabar was unconscious, so I couldn’t tell his wishes,” Morala explained, shuffling into the room with Captain Thurbal beside her.

“What about Nameless?” Alias asked anxiously. “Was he with Grypht?”

Morala shook her head. “No,” she said. “Nameless appears to be in an underground tunnel of some sort, digging his way through, though whether he is trying to escape the tunnel or burrow in farther, I could not tell. There is a halfling woman with him. They both appear uninjured, but their location remains a mystery. I think we best concentrate on tracking Grypht,” Morala said. “Grypht has the finder’s stone, and with that, he can track both Elminster and Nameless.”

“A finder’s stone?” Alias asked. “Like the one Elminster gave to me?”

“ The finder’s stone,” Morala corrected her. “There is only one. It’s an old artifact that Nameless made to store his music and his spells,” the priestess explained. “For anyone else, it worked as a compass.”

“But we lost it in Westgate, battling Moander,” Alias said.

The wrinkles in Morala’s forehead doubled as she tried to think of how the stone got from Westgate into Grypht’s hands. Unable to come up with a satisfactory explanation, the priestess huffed in frustration. “Well, Grypht has found it somewhere, somehow,” she said. “When I last saw him, he was using it. He was standing atop a hill covered with many small oak trees and crowned with a single immense oak, laden with mistletoe and ivy and moss.”

“That would have to be Oakwood Knoll, your lordship,” Captain Thurbal said. “East of the river.”

“A monster that size will be easy to follow,” Breck said, heading for the door.

Mourngrym’s arm shot out and caught Breck’s tunic, pulling him back. “Hold on a minute there, man,” his lordship said. “This … thing’s already attacked you once today. You can’t go after it alone. The dale’s full of hiding places. You could be tracking it for days. Let me get a party of guards and provisions together. It will only take a few hours.”

“A few hours!” Breck shouted. “Kyre’s been murdered, and you expect me to wait a few hours? I’m going to bring this creature’s head back on a pike—and Akabar’s, too, if I find he’s in league with it.”

Zhara rose quickly and rushed at Breck, pushing him back against the table with a surprising show of strength. “My husband,” she hissed, “is a man of honor, a scholar and a mage.” The young priestess’s voice rose in fury, and her eyes flashed with fire. “How dare you suggest such a thing?” she shouted. “If you harm one hair on his head, I will bring Tymora’s curse down upon you!”

Breck looked stunned by the veiled woman’s verbal attack. It took him only a moment to recover, however. “You could be in league with him, too, for all I know,” he said to Zhara.

Zhara called Breck one of the few Turmish words Mourngrym knew. His lordship blushed. Fortunately, Breck didn’t realize he’d been insulted.

Dragonbait gently pulled Zhara away from the ranger. Then he signed to Alias. She nodded.

“Your lordship,” Alias announced to Mourngrym, “Dragonbait and I can be ready to leave in a quarter of an hour. If you can wait that long, Breck Orcsbane, we will join you.”

“He can wait that long,” Mourngrym said firmly. “Try to keep in mind, Orcsbane, that if you bring nothing but heads back, we may never find Elminster or Nameless or Olive Ruskettle. I understand how you feel about Kyre, but we have to think of those who are still alive. I want you to try to capture the beast.”

“Capture a denizen of the Nine Hells?” Breck shouted. “That’s impossible!”

“Try,” Lord Mourngrym said. “It may not be a fiend.”

“Kyre said that it was!” Breck hissed angrily.

“Try to capture it anyway,” Mourngrym insisted. “And return Akabar Bel Akash alive, whether he resists or not.”

“I will go, too, to see that this man obeys,” Zhara said.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Breck insisted. “Your lordship, this woman is the man’s wife. I want you to arrest her.”

“I can’t arrest a woman for being a man’s wife,” Mourngrym said, barely able to contain his own annoyance with the ranger.

“But she could warn him that we’re coming and foil our attempts to capture him,” Breck argued.

“Lady Zhara,” Morala said softly, “it would be best if you remain here in the tower. As you said, your husband is a man of honor. The least we can do is keep you safe until his return.”

“Keep me hostage, you mean!” Zhara exclaimed hostilely.

“We’re riding into the wilderness, and we’ll probably end up having to fight this Grypht,” Alias said with annoyance. “You’d only slow us down and get in the way.”

“I am following my husband,” Zhara insisted angrily.

“No, you aren’t!” Breck shouted.

“Please stay here, Lady Zhara,” Morala coaxed.

Dragonbait made two short, sharp signs to the Turmishwoman, which Alias did not see. Zhara bit her lip and took a deep breath. “I will stay,” she said softly. “Show me to my room.”

“Captain Thurbal, would you escort this lady to my wife’s quarters and ask Lady Shaerl to look after her?” Mourngrym asked.

“Yes, your lordship,” the captain said, nodding. “This way, lady,” he said, motioning for Zhara to follow him.

Akabar’s wife laid her hand on Dragonbait’s chest and looked into his eyes. The paladin ran a clawed finger down the sleeve of her robe and nodded. Then Zhara turned and followed Thurbal from the room, as meekly as a child.

Dragonbait signed to Alias that he would fetch their things from the inn.