Кейт Новак - Song of the Saurials

The adventurers stopped at the edge of the clearing. They watched as each saurial scrambled to the top of the pile and added his or her burden to the growing mountain. Saurial spell-casters in white robes stood waiting at the top of the pile to take the nets brought by the flying saurial workers and butcher the captured wildlife over the pile, tossing the corpses in with the fresh trees and splashing water over it all, chanting spells all the while.

As the sun sank beneath the horizon, the saurial workers climbing down from the pile headed to the huts that surrounded the pile. Each saurial slid into a separate hut and did not come out again. Some time later, by the light of the moon, the spell-casters climbed down from the pile and slipped into the huts nearest the pile.

“When exactly are they going to resurrect Moander?” Akabar whispered.

“I’m not certain,” Alias answered. “Before moonset. They must be resting before the ceremony. Remember,” she whispered to Olive, “it’s the inner ring of huts. Dragonbait’s hut has a rainbow-striped curtain on the door and Coral’s has a golden one with the high priest of Moander’s symbol—”

“—an eye in a fanged mouth. I know,” Olive said.

Aside from knowing what huts to look for, Alias’s soul song rapport with Dragonbait and Coral had warned the swordswoman that Coral had set an alarm to sound if Grypht, Akabar, or she entered the camp. The priestess either hadn’t known about the halfling or hadn’t considered her a threat and had neglected to mention Olive in her spell, so Olive was to be their advance scout.

As the halfling slid away, the saurial and the two humans became visible again. They crouched down in the shadows of the trees that hadn’t yet been sacrificed to the god Moander’s new body.

Olive crept through the camp, threading her way among the huts of the possessed saurials. She set up trip wires in front of the entrances to the huts of the spell-casters in the inner circle, bypassing only the gold-curtained hut of the Mouth of Moander and the rainbow-curtained one that imprisoned Dragonbait. When she finished, she moved to the rainbow-curtained hut and whistled the first four notes of “The Tears of Selûne.”

The curtain drew back immediately. Dragonbait stood in the doorway, looking out warily.

“It’s me, Olive,” the halfling whispered. She pulled a light stone out of her pocket, keeping its light carefully covered with a rag, since her circle of invisibility could not hide a light. She pushed the stone down in the dirt and covered all but a small portion of it, so that a narrow beam of light shone up into the darkening sky. The light stone had been Akabar’s idea; it was to serve as a beacon for Grypht so the wizard could locate Dragonbait’s hut. When Grypht dispelled the light, it would signal the others that they should begin their assigned tasks.

“In a hundred breaths, Grypht’s going to cast a dispel magic spell,” Olive whispered. “It will knock out this light and the ward around you. That’s sure to set off all sorts of alarms, so the plan is for you to run straight toward the trees to meet the others. Alias says if you don’t come straightaway, if you stop for any heroic deeds, she’s going to make herself a new armor shirt out of your scaly hide. Got all that?”

Dragonbait nodded soundlessly.

Olive slipped away from Dragonbait’s hut and returned to the golden-curtained hut of the Mouth of Moander. It was eight huts away from Dragonbait’s, but if Coral stood in the hut’s doorway, she had a clear view of Dragonbait’s hut—undoubtedly so she could direct a spell at the hut should Alias or any of the others try to sneak into the camp to rescue the paladin.

Grypht had warned the halfling that Coral was powerful enough that she might detect Olive despite her invisibility, so Olive wasn’t taking any chances. She wasn’t going to attempt to sneak into Coral’s hut. Instead, she crept up to the back of it and pressed her eye against a gap in the pine boughs.

Mingled with the scent of the pine boughs was the scent of roses. Moander’s high priestess wasn’t too exhausted to emit emotional scents, Olive noted, though it surprised the halfling that the scent was one of grief. Once her vision had adjusted to the hut’s interior darkness, Olive could see a white saurial curled up on her side on a blanket in the center of the hut, facing the back of the building. Olive could see her face. The saurial’s eyes were closed, but little snarling sounds came from her mouth, and her nostrils flared from her heavy breathing. Dragonbait’s sword and scabbard lay on another blanket beside her. The tip of her tail lay across the sword’s hilt.

Olive gritted her teeth in frustration, repressing an urge to growl. Rotten luck, she thought. Roll over, Coral. You don’t want to sleep all night with a stupid sword.

Just then something glowed momentarily at the front of the hut, shining through the golden curtain and lighting up the interior. Coral rose quickly, pushed aside the curtain, and stepped outside. Without hesitating, Olive reached through the gap in the pine boughs, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and began to tug it toward the back of the hut, dragging the paladin’s sword with it. As soon as she could get her fingers on the sword, Olive pulled the weapon through the gap in the wall. The scabbard slid off the blade and flopped back on the blanket.

Deciding that the paladin wouldn’t need his scabbard in the battle to come, the halfling let it lay. She opened the invisible sack she’d been carrying on her shoulder. As she slipped the sword into the sack, the weapon vanished from sight.

Olive was just about to hurry back to the edge of the woods when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Nice hovel you have here. Not much profit in resurrecting dead gods, is there?”

Finder! Olive thought excitedly. She turned around and pressed her eyes back against the gap in the pine boughs.

Coral stood inside her hut with the bard. The saurial sat down on the blanket, not seeming to notice that it was in a different position. Her tail fell across Dragonbait’s scabbard, but she didn’t notice the missing weapon. Finder sat down opposite her. Though he did not speak aloud, the bard was gesturing with his hands. Olive realized he was speaking with Coral in saurial.

Sweet Selûne! Olive thought. He’s not trying to make a deal with her like he tried to do with Xaran, is he? He can’t be!

In a loud, surprised voice, the bard said in Realms common, “Akabar’s blood? You mean that’s the seed you’ve been looking for?”

Then Olive saw the flower in Finder’s ear, its tendrils wrapped around his hair. She pulled away from Coral’s hut as if it had scorched her and took off for the forest where Alias, Grypht, and Akabar were waiting.

Alias touched Grypht’s arm and pointed at the light stone beacon the moment after Olive placed it in front of Dragonbait’s hut. Grypht nodded and began to move off so he could get a better view of the hut. He disappeared into the darkness. Alias and Akabar waited anxiously for Olive to return. A few minutes later, though they couldn’t see her, they heard her running toward them. They could also hear her sobbing.

Please, Tymora, no! Alias thought. Don’t let anything be wrong with Dragonbait.

Fifty pounds of invisible halfling slammed into Alias’s legs and clung to her like a child. “They’ve got him!” she cried.

Alias knelt down and managed to get hold of Olive’s invisible shoulders. “Olive, try to keep calm,” the swordswoman said, though her own voice rose alarmingly. “What have they done to him? Is Dragonbait all right?”

“Dragonbait is fine,” Olive hissed. “It’s Finder. He’s been possessed. He’s one of the minions!”