Windwalker by Elaine Cunningham Read Free Book Online Page B

congenial captain in Ibn’s place.
    As she settled back to enjoy the show, a small voice in the back of her mind inquired, Yes, but what would Fyodor think of this plan?
    Irritation swept through her. Such intrusions on her drow practicality were becoming annoyingly frequent.
    “At the moment, he’s not thinking at all,” she muttered. “At least, not with anything that lies between his ears.”
    Fyodor, the voice said implacably. Honor.
    The drow hissed in exasperation then gave way with an ungracious shrug.
    “Hoy, Ibn! Who’s your lady friend?” she sang out, pointing. “Nice legs. Too bad about her choice in men.”
    The captain’s head whipped toward the genasi. He let out a yelp of outrage—proving, no surprise to Liriel, that his bigotry was stronger than the genasi’s magic.
    “Another damn sea elf! Git off my ship, you long-eared fish!”
    Astonishment froze the genasi in mid-slink, and fury twisted her azure face.
    “Now you’ve done it,” Liriel murmured happily. According to drow lore books, a sure way to infuriate any genasi was to mistake it for a “lesser creature.”
    A sly smile curved the drow’s lips. There would be no avoiding battle now!
    The genasi threw both arms high in a dramatic spellcaster’s stance and let out an echoing call that rose and fell like the song of a whale. It danced over the undulating sea, gathering power as it went—more power, unfortunately, than Liriel had anticipated.
    She swept both hands wide in a circular patterrn as she whispered an arcane phrase. A silvery sphere, a barely visible enchantment that resembled the ghost of a giant soap bubble, soared toward the genasi. The creature touched one blue finger to the conjured sphere of silence, and the magical ward dissolved like the bubble it resembled.
    Liriel took none of the genasi’s powerful spell resistance. She’d do better to concentrate on the creature’s magic rather than the genasi herself. She mentally listed the spells she had ready to cast, and, since no sensible drow went into battle without every possible advantage, she strode over to Fyodor and stomped sharply on his instep.
    The warrior drew in a startled gasp and shook himself like a man abruptly awakened from a dream. His gaze flicked from the genasi to Liriel, and an expression of deep chagrin crossed his face.
    “Things could get interesting,” Liriel warned him. “I might need time and space for spellcasting.”
    His only response was a grim nod. Knowing him as she did, Liriel understood the source of his dismay. Fyodor regarded Liriel as wychlaran, a position of highest honor in his homeland, and himself as her sworn guardian. Even though no harm had come of it, he would view succumbing to enchantment as a failure of duty.
    A conscience, noted Liriel, could be as irrational as it was inconvenient.
    At that moment the genasi’s spell ended in a keening wail. The sea stirred, and a small wave rose and swept toward the ship like a dark hand.
    Liriel sped through the gestures of a midday mist spell, a handy bit of magic that transformed a targeted water source into cool, harmless vapor. Magic collected between her hands, forming a globe of sparkling lights. This she hurled toward the rushing water.
    Her globe struck the water and expired with a damp sigh and a scattering of Stardust. A few wisps of mist spiraled toward the moon, but the wave came on.
    The drow hissed a curse. She wrapped one arm around the mainsail mast and seized Fyodor’s belt. He enfolded her in a protective hug and raised his voice in a shout of warning to the besotted sailors. His words were drowned by the magic-summoned wave.
    Icy water dashed over Liriel, leaving her gasping with shock. When it had passed, she wriggled free and took stock of the situation.
    Ibn had managed to hold onto the wheel, but the sailors who’d been drawn by the genasi’s spell were nowhere to be seen. Their whereabouts, however, was no mystery—startled oaths rose from the sea as