Son of Spellsinger by Foster Alan Dean

Author:Foster, Alan Dean [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
Published: 2008-05-31T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

THEY PLANNED THE ASSAULT for midnight, hoping that Neena had somehow remained unsullied thus far by the Baron’s attentions.

This was actually the case, though Squill’s sister was growing desperately tired. Having enjoyed a long and restful sleep, Krasvin was now content to bide his time, no longer in any especial hurry. Not wishing to risk a single additional volume from his collection, he had decided to relax until his quarry simply collapsed from exhaustion, which point in time was observably not far off now.

Then, he thought calmly to himself, events would proceed as they ought. He amused himself with elaborate mental preparations.

Buncan and his companions ventured out to sign the blacksmith’s papers, leaving Viz to arrange for the war paint and frills his newly energized companion had requested. Unable to rest, they wandered the streets of Camrioca until the sun had set and been replaced by a rising half-moon. Then they returned to the tavern to rejoin the others.

The lion was there, with his two fellow fighters. He made some comment as Buncan and his companions walked past. Buncan saw the fox and caracal laugh uproariously but hardly spared a glance in their direction. They weren’t needed, he thought firmly. Snaugenhutt was all they needed.

Save for a pair of deer snuggling in a far bay, the stable area was deserted. They hurried to Snaugenhutt’s stall, eager to be on their way.

Which was when disaster, that most uncomely of all possibilities, smiled callously upon them.

Prone in his stall, bright tail pennant stained with urine, ribbons askew, armor slack and anything but intimidating, Snaugenhutt lay snoring sonorously. The thick stench of cheap liquor was overpowering.

Viz sat morosely on the rim of a barrel nearby, his legs hanging over the edge, tiny beret clasped in flexible wingtips, head down. The tickbird was a picture of feathered misery.

“I only went out for a little while. Just a little while.”

Buncan sat down in a clean patch of bedding and picked disconsolately at the straw. “What for? And why now, of all times?” Angrily he flung a handful of straw at the comatose rhino.

“Disaster most complete.” Gragelouth glanced sorrowfully at Squill. “No chance now for your sister.”

“I can’t believe it.” The otter booted an iron scute. It clinked against another. Snaugenhutt didn’t stir. “All ’e ’ad to do was stay sober for ’alf an afternoon. Wot ’appened to his newfound pride, ’is sense o’ duty? We ’ad a bleedin’ arrangement, we did.”

“He was all set to go,” Viz mumbled miserably. “Looking forward to it. He was so much like, like his old self. I didn’t think there’d be any harm in leaving him for a while.”

“Why did you leave him?” Buncan asked testily.

The tickbird couldn’t meet the human’s gaze. “Tried to arrange a loan. We’re over a month behind on our bill here. I meant to tell you later. I was only gone a few hours, but when I got back,” he indicated the huge, insensible form, “Snaug was like this. His trough’s empty. I was afraid to ask inside how much he’d had.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.