Liet was speechless. He felt the sword in his hand, and wondered if it had any chance of injuring the warlock-the fiend.
'Uh, no. No, I don't w-want that,' said Slip.
'And neither do you want to risk your life, or all of ours, just to assuage the lusts of fools, old or young.'
Liet bristled, and this time he would have attacked had Asson not coughed. At least, such is what he told himself. The concept of making a move against Davoren struck him as being like suicide-only more certain.
Asson slowly shook his head. 'This is her fight,' he said. 'Do not interfere.'
Liet realized at that moment that Asson was afraid, too-even more afraid of Davoren than losing Taslin? The youth shuddered.
Slip shook her head.
'Then speak up,' the warlock invited. 'Speak against their fool crusade.'
'B-but…' Slip said.
The warlock frowned. 'You are strong of will, child,' he said. 'And you care about them more than you confess. If you will not speak against their rescue, at the least decide that you will not speak for it. Abstain.'
'I-I will,' Slip said finally. 'I abstain.'
Liet gasped. 'You cheated! You forced that out of her!'
'No,' Slip argued. 'No. I just… I can't decide on this. I don't want to make up your minds for you. As Yondalla teaches, saving them is… the right thing, but killing us all to save them…'
'Very well,' said Davoren. 'It looks like we're undecided. In that case…'
'Actually,' Asson said. ' 'Tis one vote left.'
'Truly?' Davoren said, feigning astonishment. 'Oh yes-there is.' He sneered.
Liet realized he had played right into the warlock's hands. Gargan.
Of course, Davoren expected the goliath to vote nay-the hulking creature had shown no signs of attachment to Twilight and Taslin thus far. And Asson had planned this, too. All his hopes rested on the goliath.
They all turned toward Gargan, who until that moment had been silent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
'Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek!' There was mud amid the darkness, dancing shadows, and a dull ache.
Throughout her long life, Twilight had spent enough time unconscious to know not to open her eyes immediately. That was a common mistake that had earned many a novice thief a solid punch in the mouth at best, a rusty knife in the gut at worst.
She used her other four senses first-the kind that weren't obvious, and wouldn't prompt such unpleasantness from her captors.
Around her, Twilight picked up the sounds of chanting in a language she could not understand. Regardless, her keen mind processed the growling, rough texture of the words. It might have shared common roots with Dwarvish, but it was otherwise unfamiliar.
'Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek!' the chant proclaimed.
Doesn't sound good, whatever it is, she thought.
Twilight smelled a combination of moldering wood and old stone-a musty scent she sensed was that of the grimlocks-mixed with a kind of summer flower, very faint, whose source she could not even guess. Falling into awareness of her body, Twilight surmised that she was being carried upon some kind of platform, laid out lengthwise. And, most importantly, her hands and feet were tied.
That was not a good sign.
Slowly, Twilight opened her eyes. She was right-four grimlocks bore her, bound but not gagged, upon a wooden pallet, marching down an aisle formed by their chanting fellows. There were no torches, so she could see only with her darksight. On her right, Twilight saw Taslin similarly secured and carried by four more.
That would explain the flowery scent, thought Twilight. She could tell from the priestess's breathing that Taslin was awake, but feigning unconsciousness as well. Wise.
'Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek!' the grimlocks chanted.
Twilight almost hoped Taslin wasn't merely pretending so that she might be spared what would come next. 'Taslin,' she said, since the sun couldn't see her.
Taslin's eyes opened slowly. 'They did not gag us,' said the priestess in Elvish.
'The better to enjoy our screams, I would imagine,' Twilight replied in kind. 'Try not to move.'
The nearest eyeless beast turned its attention to Twilight. Its sightless focus felt as keen as any knife. As open-minded as she had become in her travels, the empty gaze of the grimlocks still disturbed Twilight profoundly.
'Their senses extend only so far,' Twilight said. 'They can see without eyes and can hear us, but it seems we can talk. You will only provoke them if you move. And no spellcasting. They have their own priests.'
Taslin looked about without moving her head. Her eyes flicked back to Twilight. 'This is a ritual,' she said.
'Indeed.'
'Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek darakow!'
'And we're the ones to be sacrificed.'
'I can only assume so.'
'No,' said Taslin. 'I can understand their words.'
Twilight raised a brow.
'My earring,' she explained.
'Right.'
'Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek darakow!' the grimlocks roared. In Twilight's opinion, the chant was starting to grate.
'A chant about a god, a name-Ithilnin-and sacrificing us.' Her face turned stormy. 'They think we're drow.'
'That would explain the yellow and white flesh, respectively.'
'You could always be an albino drow,' she said.
Twilight couldn't help but smile. Of all the things she had been called in her long life, she hadn't heard that one before.
Not, of course, that the grimlocks could distinguish color, she realized.
Floating along that dark path, completely blind-the grimlocks had no need of torches, being able to 'see' in perfect darkness-Taslin sighed. Her attempt at levity had been artifice. Unless the others came to rescue them in the next two dozen heartbeats…
'Do you think the others survived?' she asked, hoping Twilight was still awake.
'No.' A pause. 'And even if they did, they wouldn't come back for us. Davoren will control them-and he hates you almost as much as he hates me.'
'Why does he hate you so?'
Twilight did not reply.
'How do we escape?' Taslin asked.
'Occasionally, being polite works.' Twilight said. 'So I'm told, anyway.'
'Then I shall speak to them,' said Taslin. 'They may understand Common, at least.' The priestess addressed the nearest grimlock in the trade tongue. 'We are not your enemies. Release us,' she said. 'Appease your vile god some other way.'
Something warm and sticky struck her cheek, and the creature growled in its own guttural speech, which came through her earring as Elvish. 'Silence, drow.'
'I confess, my suggestion was something of a jest,' said Twilight.
