Heirs of Prophecy by Lisa Smedman

Author:Lisa Smedman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy Fiction, General, Fiction, Fantasy, Epic, Elves, Forgotten realms (Imaginary place)
ISBN: 9780786942909
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2007-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

So that's it, then," Larajin said. "You're leaving. You're not even going to try to help."

Leifander squatted on the second-story balcony of Kremlar's perfume shop, stroking the glossy black feathers of a crow. The bird had come to his whispered prayer as faithfully as a hound to a horn, then it had plucked a downy feather from its breast and offered it to Leifander.

"There's nothing we can do," he answered as he took the feather from the crow.

"Not separately, no," Larajin conceded, "but Rylith said that together-"

"You are a Sembian," Leifander said, "and I belong to the Tangled Trees."

That seemed to be all that he was going to say. Leifander dismissed the crow, which took off into the dusk with a loud caw. He undid a strand of the braid that hung down his back, and lashed the feather securely to it with a length of fine embroidery thread Kremlar had given him.

Larajin turned to Tal, but he only shrugged. "I don't see how the pair of you could stop the war," he said. "It's inevitable. The armies are mobilizing; the militia from Ordulin is already on the march to-"

He stopped abruptly, remembering there was an elf present. Deliberately turning his back on Leifander, he strode to the far end of the balcony and stared up at the evening sky. Sunset painted the western sky a dusky yellow-red; the clouds looked as though they contained a smoldering fire.

Inside, Kremlar fussed with an oil lamp, trimming its wick. The dwarf had invited them up to his personal quarters above the shop and had listened with rapt attention as Larajin told Tal and Leifander about her journey north to the Tangled Trees, repeating what the druid had told her about the twins' destiny. Now he seemed embarrassed to be listening, like a host who finds his guests in the middle of a quarrel. When the wick was at last trimmed he stood nervously, fiddling with the rings that adorned each of his fingers.

On the balcony, Leifander spread his arms. A flutter ran through his tattooed fingers. He turned to Larajin, and gave her a long look.

"Good-bye, sister. May your goddesses protect you. I pray we never have to face each other as enemies."

A shudder coursed through him, long black feathers sprouted at his fingertips, and his body hunched in upon itself and shrank. In no more than a few heartbeats, he had transformed into a crow. He sprang into the air and flew up the street.

Larajin ran to the balcony and watched Leifander go. He headed northwest, toward the city walls and the River Arkhen. From there, she assumed, he would wing his way north toward the ancient woods, leaving her back where she'd started, in Selgaunt.

On the street below, she heard one of the city guard call out the All's Well. Hurriedly, she drew back from the balcony and retreated into Kremlar's rooms.

After a glance down at the guard in the street, Tal followed her inside.

"What will you do now?" he asked.

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