Windwalker by Elaine Cunningham Read Free Book Online Page A

believed Lord Caladorn to be an enemy of the sea elves,” Fyodor reminded her. “Had the captain lived, he would have learned his error.”
    She shrugged this aside. The pirate known as Hrolf the Unruly had, in a very short time, become more of a father to her than the drow wizard who’d sired her. Hrolf’s death was a wound too new and raw to bear the weight of words.
    “Ibn likes this Caladorn well enough. At least, he likes the color of the man’s coins and the ‘lord’ before his name! It’s lucky for us his lordship wanted passage to the mainland. Ibn never would have bestirred himself on our account.”
    Fyodor nodded and turned a troubled gaze toward Narwhal’s new captain, a man of middle years and narrow mind, hunched over the wheel with a grim concentration that reminded Liriel of a duergar “enjoying” his morning gruel.
    Though Liriel would never admit it, she shared Fyodor’s unspoken concern. Ibn had been Hrolf’s first mate, and he’d been a pebble in her boot from the moment they’d met. Most Northmen were wary of elves, but Ibn, despite his years aboard Hrolf’s ship Elfmaid and the assistance of the sea elves who’d watched over the jovial pirate, distrusted all elves with a fervor bordering on hatred.
    Well, there was no help for it. Fyodor had pledged to return the Windwalker to the witches of Rashemen. Liriel had promised to accompany him. It was an impulsive decision that she had questioned many times during their westward voyage, but Fyodor had steadfastly assured that she—a drow and a wizard—would be accepted in a land that hated both. Before they faced that particular battle, they would have to survive a journey that spanned hundreds of miles inhabited by surface dwellers who had reason to fear and hate dark elves. Considering the larger picture, what was one elf-hating sailor?
    A subtle movement caught the drow’s attention—a slender blue hand edging over the rail. Liriel watched in fascination as a peculiar creature slid soundlessly onto the ship. Elflike in feature and lavishly female in form, she was nonetheless as alien as any creature Liriel had ever beheld.
    The newcomer’s skin shimmered with tiny aqua scales, and her long, silvery blue hair undulated as if in a gentle current. She wore ropes of pearls and a short, wet, clinging gown. Liriel’s sharp eyes noted the weapon sheathes cleverly hidden among the wet folds. Her native curiosity, however, was stronger than her impulse to shout an alarm.
    Liriel watched as the creature’s blue-green eyes scanned the ship, settled upon the man at the wheel, and took on a predatory gleam. She started toward Ibn purposefully.
    The drow elbowed Fyodor and nodded toward the creature. “A water genasi,” she said, speaking just above a whisper. “I’ve never actually seen one before. Drow keep trying to breed them. You don’t want to know what we get instead.”
    “Is she a friend?” Fyodor asked, eying the beautiful creature uncertainly.
    “That depends. Does your social circle usually include other-planer half breeds?”
    Fyodor, his gaze intent on the genasi, let that pass. “She’s after the captain,” he said, noting the creature’s approach on the unwitting Ibn. He placed one hand on his sword hilt and started forward.
    His determined stride faltered after a pace or two, and he stood watching the genasi with fascination. Several other men left off their chores and drifted closer. Their wonder-struck eyes drank in the beautiful blue face. Several of them darted envious, even murderous, glances at the unsuspecting Ibn.
    A charm spell, Liriel surmised, eyeing the blue female with new respect. For a moment she was tempted to let the genasi’s enchantment run its course. Liriel’s people had a thousand ways to weed out the foolish and the weak, and the ship would probably be the better for a cleansing battle. That accomplished, she could subdue the blue wench and restore order—and, not incidentally, put a more