Daughter of the Drow by Elaine Cunningham Read Free Book Online Page B

was not a common spell, but Liriel had learned it just last week from her new and powerful tutor. Bythnara, of course, did not know this. Liriel’s teacher had forbidden her to share with anyone the spells he taught her, and for once she blessed the greedy, paranoid nature of Menzoberranzan’s wizards.
    Bythnara rose, stretching, unaware her prey had sensed the hunt-within-a-hunt. The wizard’s next move, Liriel knew, would be to fling out a hand and send a fireball sizzling toward the prow of the boat.
    Keeping her feet spread in a hunting stance, Liriel once again summoned the natural magic of levitation. Then, in one quick, fluid movement, she rose high into the air, whirled, and threw her spear like a javelin. The barbed tip tore into Bythnara’s chest, and the wizard’s languid yawn turned into a rounded O of shock and pain. Arms wind-milling, she toppled backward into the water.
    Instantly the pyrimo were upon her. Liriel floated above the river’s misty shroud, watching with an impassive expression as the water below her churned and roiled, turning red in the darkness as it was warmed by the blood of her treacherous friend.
    When the wild rocking of the boat stilled and the waters had once again turned cool and dark, Liriel drifted back down. Syzwick still lay flat on the floor of the boat, where he had wisely thrown himself in an effort to keep the craft upright.
    Liriel regarded the handsome male for a long moment as she considered what best to do with him. The scented liniment Bythnara had used had no doubt come from his father’s store. It seemed likely that Syzwick had plotted with Bythnara, Perhaps the female wizard had told her consort something that might help Liriel understand the motive for this attack. If so, Liriel intended to get some answers. She kicked him, none too gently.
    Syzwick scrambled onto the center seat, his eyes frantic as they met Liriel’s implacable crimson gaze.
    “I’ll swear to anything you like,” Syzwick said, the words fairly bursting from him. “I’ll say Bythnara attacked you. That’s believable enough, considering how much she hated you. She’s always hated you—jealous, mostly—and has never bothered to hide the fact. Everyone knows it. Everyone will believe us,” the male babbled on, “for she’s spoken often enough of wanting to see you dead. Mind you, as far as I know she had no real plans to move against you. And I swear—I swear it by Lioth’s eighth leg!—that I would never go along with such a plan, even if she’d had one and demanded my help! You know that, Liriel. All her talk about wanting you dead—it was only talk; you know how these things go.”
    “Yes,” Liriel said in a dull, tight voice.
    She knew very well, indeed. And finally, Syzwick’s frantic chatter was starting to make sense. The male honestly did not know of Bythnara’s attack. He had seen only that Liriel had slain his lover, and his only concern was his own survival. Murder—for such it was in Syzwick’s eyes—was perfectly acceptable, even lauded, among dark elves, provided it could not be proven. Syzwick was a witness, and he fully expected to be eliminated. The male was pleading for his life, promising to swear that Liriel had acted in self-defense.
    How ironic, she thought numbly, that in doing so he would be speaking simple truth! But she would never truly convince him of that. Nor, for her own half-understood reasons, did she want to try.
    “Bythnara slipped and fell in,” she said at last.
    Syzwick’s forehead furrowed in puzzlement, and he waited for Liriel to elaborate. When she did not, he accepted the lie with an eager nod.
    “Bythnara was reaching for a fish when the boat struck one of those little eddies,” he said, improvising. “We were tossed about in a circle. She lost her balance and fell. We tried to reach her, but the pyrimo were upon her too quickly.”
    He held his breath as he awaited the female’s response. Slowly, a grim smile crept across