neetha Napew - Son Of Spellsinger

Krasvin crossed his arms and continued to watch her.

“You must know that there is no way I’m going to let you leave here without having you first. Especially after what you’ve done.”

“I think you’re the one who’s been ‘ad, Baron.” She sat down on the walkway, her back against the shelves.

“What do you think you’re going to do after you’ve eaten and drunk?” he asked her.

“First things first.” There, she thought. That’s better than confessing that I haven’t the slightest idea what I am going to do next.

“You don’t mind if I eat with you?” Something of Krasvin’s smile had returned. “All this activity has made me quite hungry.” He whispered to another servant.

“ ‘As it, now? I’d ‘oped I’d managed to kill your appetite completely.”

“No. Only momentarily stun it.” “Too bad I couldn’t ‘ave used this.” She made a gesture with the appropriated dagger. “Instead of just a lamp pole. If my father were ‘ere “e’d slice you up into family souvenirs. An’ ‘is friend is the greatest spellsinger in all the Warmlands.”

Krasvin did not appear impressed. Servants arrived bearing food and drink. She made certain the paca who handed up hers from the top of one ladder was unarmed. When he’d completed the delivery, she kicked the ladder off the walkway. The ever-ready armadillos caught it as it fell.

Krasvin picked daintily at his own victuals. “Unfortunately, none of the individuals of whom you speak are here.”

“Me travelin’ companions are.”

“No, you are wrong. They are in Camrioca. If they haven’t already abandoned you. While you . . . are here. With me.”

She chewed on the fish and sipped at the water only after carefully smelling of both. If they were drugged, it was with substances beyond her ability to distinguish. She had to chance it.

Besides, from the Baron’s point of view there was no need for such subtleties. He could sleep whenever he felt like it, rotating guards as long as was necessary, knowing that exhaustion would eventually overcome her. As they ate she saw other servants coming and going, stocking the library with pails of water to douse any fire as Krasvin sought to prepare for the final -assault.

As soon as she’d had enough to drink she poured the rest of the water over her head, soaking the elegant gown and running her makeup. It freshened her, but only, she knew, for a while.

Where in the name of the Ultimate Whirlpool were her friends and that lazy useless ragball of a brother? Not that they were likely to successfully crash this pocket fortress, but surely they were bound to try? She settled herself as best she could, shifting her position on the unyielding wooden walkway.

She was determined to put off the inevitable for as long as possible. If naught else, by the time she finally gave out she might be too exhausted to feel anything.

Krasvin sat watching her, his gaze rarely wavering. His principal adviser, an elderly mandrill, approached and dared to whisper in his ear.

“Why don’t we rush her, your lordship? See, she tires already? How many books could she burn before we took her?”

“Fool.” The cowled mandrill shrank back. “One more would be too many. Don’t you know how precious this library is? How valuable a single volume is in the scheme of existence? How irreplaceable the knowledge it holds, the information it contains within its multitudinous pages? Books are by far the most valuable resource of the Learned. They are the foundation of civilization, the bedrock of society, the source of all that is profound and wise and benign. The loss of a single folio denigrates me, denigrates, you, diminishes all thinking individuals. That is a catastrophe to be avoided at all costs.”

“Actually, your lordship, I thought that fornication was more important to you than books.”

“I am surprised at you, Byelroeth. You know that this library is my most valued possession. That it is the supreme example of its kind not only in Camrioca, but in all the lands to the south and east. It is the envy of all who visit here. Having seen it, they cannot do else but admire my dedication to erudition and learning, to great literature and to research.”

“Your pardon, your lordship, but may I remind you that this library consists entirely of pornography?”

The mink’s gaze narrowed as he regarded his Adviser. “Are you making fun of me, Byelroeth?”

The mandrill’s eyes widened. “Me? Never, your lordship.”

Krasvin turned away, easing back in his chair and focusing once more on the seated figure of the lady otter on the walkway above.

“Incompetents. I am surrounded by incompetents. No wonder a single female of a tribe not noted for their depth of dunking has been able to outsmart and outfight all of you.”

“Aye. All of us, Master,” came a voice from somewhere behind him.

He whirled furiously. “Who said that?” A few startled faces looked back at him. Several shuffled uneasily where they stood. But no one owned up to the comment.

He forced himself to set the matter aside. Now was not the time to go lopping off heads arbitrarily. That could come later. Right now he needed every paw and claw.

“Whoever spoke was right in one sense. She is making fools of us all.”

“We are just not all as frustrated as you, Master,” said another voice. Krasvin joined in the nervous laughter which followed this sally. Keep them relaxed and they will put more enthusiasm into their work, he told himself. Much later, when this episode was concluded, he would administer truth serum to each and every one of them. When the severed heads of the guilty were mounted atop the front gate, he would see to it that they were positioned with smiles on their faces in memory of the untimely quips which had ultimately convicted them.

Fulfillment of his desires had merely been delayed, not thwarted.

The female who was making a fool of him tapped the book she had opened on her lap. It was bound in green snakeskin fore-edged with gold.

“Oi, Baron!” He said nothing. “This ‘ere could be an educational experience if you weren’t so bloody insistent on forcin’ yourself on me.” She turned a leaf, shook her head at what the next page revealed. “I do believe you’re a right nasty-minded little sod, Kraven.”

“Krasvin. Will you come down from there?”

“Only if you can figure a way o’ assurin’ me o’ safe passage out o’ ‘ere, an’ promisin’ that you won’t come huntin’ for me and me companions.” She looked past him, toward the double doorway. “They should be arrivin’ any time now.”

He smiled disarmingly. “Your so-called friends seem shy. There has been no sign of any visitors at the gates or on the grounds, save for a single itinerant peddler whom my staff drenched with dirty dishwater and sent packing. Can it be that your erstwhile companions have conceded the reality of your capture and are relaxing in the city, drinking and taking their ease and generally enjoying themselves? That would be the sensible thing for them to do should they have learned what has happened to you. Are they sensible, these friends of yours?”

She nudged the lamp a little nearer to the pile of opened, oil-soaked books just to see him tense up. “I really ought to get this goin’. ‘Tis a mite chilly in “ere.”

Below, Krasvin raised a restraining paw. “Don’t. These volumes are all unique, all one of a kind.”

She tapped the one she was perusing. “I’ll bet. I’d ‘ate to think there were more than one o’ these.”

“Judge me if you will, but don’t judge my books. All-knowledge is valuable.”

“Spoken like a scholar. ‘Course, that means nothin” to me. I’m just a fun-lovin’ sort. So are me friends, as you’ll find out when they arrive.” At which point, in spite of making a great effort to suppress the reaction, she yawned.