chest affectionately.
A boot scraped on the stone behind Albanon. The wizard knew who it was before he turned around. Only one person deliberately dragged his foot that way to announce his presence. “Uldane,” he said, “you don’t have to be up here until later. We couldn’t find you, so we put you on the second watch with Tempest and Immeral.” He turned around.
The halfling looked miserable. He also looked dusty, as if he’d just crawled out of some long neglected hiding hole. His eyes were red-rimmed. “Albanon, do you think I was right to tell Shara she betrayed Jarren by taking up with Quarhaun?”
It seemed like it was going to be a night for hard questions. Albanon leaned on his staff and thoughtbefore he answered. “How exactly is Shara betraying Jarren?”
“She can do better than Quarhaun!”
Albanon gave Uldane a level look. “That doesn’t sound like betraying Jarren. What’s wrong with Quarhaun?”
“He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He uses people.” Uldane began pacing back and forth on the narrow walkway. “He doesn’t give a muskrat’s whisker about anyone!”
“Except Shara.”
The halfling glared at him. “Quarhaun’s a typical drow,” he said. “You’ve never heard his stories about growing up in the Underdark, have you? Lies, treachery, assassination—it’s enough to scare the smallclothes off you, and he acts like it’s all normal.”
“Shara sees something in him, though.”
Uldane’s expression twisted and he spat on the stones at Albanon’s feet. “You sound like Thair.” He turned toward the stairs down from the wall. Albanon grabbed his shoulder.
“Wait,” he said, holding tight as Uldane tried to shrug him off. “How would you describe Immeral?”
Uldane raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled at the turn in questioning. “Brave. Loyal. Respectful.”
“Not to his face,” said Albanon. He turned Uldane loose. “What if you were talking about him behind his back.”
“I wouldn’t—” This time Albanon raised an eyebrow. Uldane shrugged. “Formal,” he said. “Stiff. Cold. Distant.”
“So a typical eladrin.”
“Yes,” Uldane agreed, then winced as he remembered who he was talking to. “You’re not like that.”
“I know,” Albanon said, “but it took some time living away from the Feywild before I was comfortable with it. Maybe Quarhaun needs time away from the Underdark with people he knows he can trust.”
Uldane made a face. He fidgeted where he stood, walked back and forth a couple of times—then stepped up to the parapet and punched it. Albanon turned to look at him in surprise. The halfling’s face deepened into a scowl and he shook a hand with blood oozing from split knuckles. “I still don’t like him,” he said harshly.
“I don’t think you have to,” said Albanon, but he froze even as the words left his mouth.
Out in the dark countryside, something flashed in the moonlight. He moved to the parapet and leaned out, peering into the night.
“What?” said Uldane, turning to stand alongside him. “Do you see something?”
“Maybe.” The shifting clouds gave the illusion of movement to every shadow. The pale moonlight erased color at a distance, but the flash had seemed distinctly and disturbingly crystalline. He stared at the place he had seen it. Or thought he had seen it. When the flash came again, he realized it was much closer than he’d believed. A plague demon, one of the big four-armed kind, stood half-hidden beside the trunk of a tree only a little more than a bowshot beyond the wall. Fear made a sour taste in his mouth. He cursed under his breath and searched for more.
“What do you see?” asked Uldane.
“A demon.” He fixed his gaze on a suspicious shadow, waited until the moonlight caught it, then cursed when it did. “Another one.” The tips of his ears prickled. “There won’t be just two of them. They’re out there.”
“Do we call the alarm or just hope they leave us alone like the
A boot scraped on the stone behind Albanon. The wizard knew who it was before he turned around. Only one person deliberately dragged his foot that way to announce his presence. “Uldane,” he said, “you don’t have to be up here until later. We couldn’t find you, so we put you on the second watch with Tempest and Immeral.” He turned around.
The halfling looked miserable. He also looked dusty, as if he’d just crawled out of some long neglected hiding hole. His eyes were red-rimmed. “Albanon, do you think I was right to tell Shara she betrayed Jarren by taking up with Quarhaun?”
It seemed like it was going to be a night for hard questions. Albanon leaned on his staff and thoughtbefore he answered. “How exactly is Shara betraying Jarren?”
“She can do better than Quarhaun!”
Albanon gave Uldane a level look. “That doesn’t sound like betraying Jarren. What’s wrong with Quarhaun?”
“He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He uses people.” Uldane began pacing back and forth on the narrow walkway. “He doesn’t give a muskrat’s whisker about anyone!”
“Except Shara.”
The halfling glared at him. “Quarhaun’s a typical drow,” he said. “You’ve never heard his stories about growing up in the Underdark, have you? Lies, treachery, assassination—it’s enough to scare the smallclothes off you, and he acts like it’s all normal.”
“Shara sees something in him, though.”
Uldane’s expression twisted and he spat on the stones at Albanon’s feet. “You sound like Thair.” He turned toward the stairs down from the wall. Albanon grabbed his shoulder.
“Wait,” he said, holding tight as Uldane tried to shrug him off. “How would you describe Immeral?”
Uldane raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled at the turn in questioning. “Brave. Loyal. Respectful.”
“Not to his face,” said Albanon. He turned Uldane loose. “What if you were talking about him behind his back.”
“I wouldn’t—” This time Albanon raised an eyebrow. Uldane shrugged. “Formal,” he said. “Stiff. Cold. Distant.”
“So a typical eladrin.”
“Yes,” Uldane agreed, then winced as he remembered who he was talking to. “You’re not like that.”
“I know,” Albanon said, “but it took some time living away from the Feywild before I was comfortable with it. Maybe Quarhaun needs time away from the Underdark with people he knows he can trust.”
Uldane made a face. He fidgeted where he stood, walked back and forth a couple of times—then stepped up to the parapet and punched it. Albanon turned to look at him in surprise. The halfling’s face deepened into a scowl and he shook a hand with blood oozing from split knuckles. “I still don’t like him,” he said harshly.
“I don’t think you have to,” said Albanon, but he froze even as the words left his mouth.
Out in the dark countryside, something flashed in the moonlight. He moved to the parapet and leaned out, peering into the night.
“What?” said Uldane, turning to stand alongside him. “Do you see something?”
“Maybe.” The shifting clouds gave the illusion of movement to every shadow. The pale moonlight erased color at a distance, but the flash had seemed distinctly and disturbingly crystalline. He stared at the place he had seen it. Or thought he had seen it. When the flash came again, he realized it was much closer than he’d believed. A plague demon, one of the big four-armed kind, stood half-hidden beside the trunk of a tree only a little more than a bowshot beyond the wall. Fear made a sour taste in his mouth. He cursed under his breath and searched for more.
“What do you see?” asked Uldane.
“A demon.” He fixed his gaze on a suspicious shadow, waited until the moonlight caught it, then cursed when it did. “Another one.” The tips of his ears prickled. “There won’t be just two of them. They’re out there.”
“Do we call the alarm or just hope they leave us alone like the
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