Sorrell could only stare. How could the loss of a horse compare to 'I raised her from a foal,' Pendaran whispered. 'She came to me, willingly, from the herd. I rode her for nearly a century. One day, I'll ride her again. In Arvandor.'
He turned and picked up the pack. 'Inside is every thing you'll need in the Underdark.' He untied the main flap and pulled out a belt with a series of loops that held small metal vials sealed with waxed corks. 'Potions for curing, and for neutralizing poison.' He draped the belt over the chair, then pulled out a bandolier with larger loops that held rough-cut quartz prisms. 'Flash gems. With a time delay. Speak the command word, throw one into a cavern or drop it down a rock chimney, then close your eyes for a count of three. Anything that's sensitive to light will be blinded long enough for you to kill it.'
Next came soft leather boots, as new looking as the pack was worn. They were dark red, embroidered with thread-of-gold. Pendaran held them up, then let them fall to the ground. They landed without making a sound.
'Boots of silent striding?'
'More than that.' Pendaran spoke a command word: 'Levarithin.'
The boots gently lifted from the floor. Pendaran held out a hand, stopping them before they rose to the ceiling. 'Descenthallan.' The boots sank gently to the floor. He stared a challenge at Sorrell. 'You got that?'
Sorrell nodded. 'Levarithin… descenthallan. Got it.' The boots rose from the floor, then sank again.
'Good.' Pendaran lifted a fine silver chain from the pack; dangling from it was a circle of what looked like clear glass. A ring. Unfastening the chain, he slid the ring off and handed it to Sorrell. 'Put it on.'
'Which finger?'
'It doesn't matter.'
Sorrell slipped the ring onto his left index finger. The magical ring adjusted to fit, then seemingly disappeared. Sorrell could feel it, but couldn't see it.
'Vanessaril to become invisible,' Pendaran instructed. 'Maniferril to become visible again.'
Sorrell repeated the first command word. Going invisible was an odd sensation. He had to fight the urge to turn around and see where his body had gone. It left him feeling off center and slightly dizzy.
'Maniferril,' he said, glad to be able to see his feet again.
'You'll get used to it,' Pendaran said. 'But don't come to rely on it. The Underdark's filled with traps and wards that will kill you just as dead, visible or invisible.'
Sorrell lowered his hand. 'How soon do we leave?'
'As soon as you've put this on.' Pendaran pulled a metal jar from the pack and handed it to Sorrell. Like the potion vials, it was sealed with a cork. The wax seal had already been broken, and the outside of the jar was smudged with gray. It smelled like mud mixed with herbs.
'Magical armor paint,' Pendaran explained. 'Strip down, and smear it over every bit of your body-especially those bits you'd most like to keep.'
Sorrell met Pendaran's eyes. The dhaeraowathila was testing him, seeing if Sorrell would forget his vow by smiling at the joke. The veiled reference to lovemaking, however, reminded Sorrell of Dalmara… and of children.
The lump of ice returned to his heart.
'Something wrong?' Pendaran asked.
Sorrell managed to shake his head. 'No, sir.' The title came unbidden to his lips; it fit. Sorrell met his eye and slapped a hand against the handle of his club. 'I'm looking forward to splitting drow skulls.'
'Good. When you've finished, join us near Shevarash's Oak. I'll be briefing the war band there.'
Sorrell stood with the other members of Pendaran's war band near the portal, waiting as two elves swept it clear of snow. There was evidence of a recent fight. The snow that had fallen since then hadn't quite covered up the crystallized patches of red that were frozen blood.
Pendaran briefed his war band. 'Two drow came through. One was killed, but the second escaped back with an entrance no wider than a crack; the half-elves had to use magic to see inside it. They spotted a chimney in the rock, leading down to the Underdark. From the boot prints they found they estimate there were five drow in total.'
Pendaran ran a scarred hand through his wheat-colored hair. 'A scouting thalakz' he concluded, using a drow word. 'One down, and four to go. And one of the four wounded, and slowing the rest down. Their leader, obviously, or they would have killed her.'
As he listened, Sorrell stared at the other three members of Pendaran's war band.
Koora was a heavily tattooed wild elf, with dark brown skin and black, wavy hair, and the nervous, watchful air of a woodland creature that would startle at a sudden move. A small, dark blue gem-obviously magical-orbited her head like a restless fly. A sling hung coiled at her belt, next to a lumpy looking leather bag that probably held sling stones. Her feet were bare, despite the snow.
The other two-Nairen and Adair-were clearly related. They had the same triangular jaw, the same thin eyebrows that met in a V over a narrow nose. The resemblance was close enough that they were probably brothers-though Nairen, the one with the broadsword at his hip, was a full moon elf, and Adair, the one leaning on the short spear, was part human. Both were tall and wiry, with fair skin the color of cream and hair so black it shone a deep, silken blue. Nairen wore his in a neat braid that hung down his back, while Adair's was loose and looked as though it had been hacked to its shoulder length with a knife. There were threads of gray in it; Adair looked twice as old as Nairen. But half-elves aged faster. The two might very well have been only a year apart.
Both men were still young. Added together, their ages would probably barely match Sorrell's own hundred and twenty-six years.
Pendaran, however, was easily twice Sorrell's age, well into his third century of life. He was armed, that morning, with a bow that was black as night and strung with a blood-red string. A quiver at his hip, next to a sheathed dagger, held a dozen arrows with red fletching.
The sweepers moved aside with their brooms. The portal was a mosaic made from thousands of pebbles set into the forest floor; dark green stones formed a pattern of oversized leaves that spiraled in toward the mosaic's center. Only by stepping on the leaves in a specific pattern could the portal's magic be triggered. Sorrell had never used the portal before. He'd have to watch where the others stepped, or be left behind.
He expected Pendaran to set but immediately, but the dhaeraowathila was busy untying the strings of a small silk bag. The others in the war band gathered around him expectantly. They gave Sorrell sharp glances as he joined them.
Pendaran tipped the bag's contents into one calloused palm: five rings made of a brownish material that looked like carved horn. He held out his hand; Koora, Nairen and Adair each took a ring. Sorrell hesitated, then took the fifth ring. He slid it onto the second finger of his left hand, next to the invisibility ring. Immediately, his awareness expanded fivefold. He was aware of everything around him, as if he were looking and listening in several different directions at once. His mind filled with voices.
… filthy spider kissers. A male voice-either Nairen's or Adair's.
Five silver pieces says I take down more than you. Similar to the first voice, but deeper, more human sounding.
Good hunting. That voice was female, with the distinctive lilt of a wild elf. Koora.
Cut the chatter, Pendaran ordered.
The voices fell silent.
Pendaran turned to Sorrell. 'To use the ring, imagine yourself speaking to the person you want to talk to,' he said out loud.
Sorrell concentrated. Like this? He saw Adair wince. Not so loud, Nairen snapped. Novices, Adair grumbled, shaking his head. Sorrell gave the half-elf a sharp look. Adair had obviously intended him to hear that. Let's go, Pendaran ordered.
Sorrell expected Pendaran to take the lead, but it was the wild elf Koora who stepped onto the portal first. Pendaran followed.
You're next, said Nairen, gesturing with a jerk of his head. The new man goes in the middle, where he can do the least harm. Remember that.
Sorrell shrugged off the comment. The Silent Slayers had worked together as a team for nearly six years-he'd overheard someone mention that the night before-and were obviously used to doing things a certain way. And
