Part 12 (1/2)
”A murderer?” Oliver remarked, wondering if Brind'Amour thought the correction appropriate.
”He has killed cyclopians-who meant harm to him, or to you,” Brind'Amour replied firmly. ”A warrior.” He looked back to the closed door of Luthien's room, and he seemed to Oliver a concerned parent.
”He has suffered many adventures all at once,” Brind'Amour went on. ”Has faced a dragon! That might not seem like much to the likes of Oliver deBurrows-”
”Of course not,” the halfling interrupted, and since Brind'Amour was not looking at him, he rolled his eyes, nearly gagging on that claim.
”But no doubt it is traumatic to young Luthien,” the wizard finished. ”Watch over him, Oliver. I beg you. The very foundation of his world has become, or will likely soon become, as loose sand, s.h.i.+fting under his feet.”
Oliver put a hand on his hip and leaned back, putting his weight on one foot, the other tapping impatiently on the floor. ”You ask much,” he remarked when the wizard turned to regard him. ”Yet all the gifts you have offered have been to Luthien, not me.”
”The pa.s.s into Montfort is more valuable to you than to Luthien,” Brind'Amour was quick to point out, knowing Oliver's recent history in the city-and knowing the reputation the halfling thief left behind with some fairly influential merchants.
”I do not have to go into Montfort,” the halfling replied casually, lifting one hand before his face to inspect his manicured fingernails.
Brind'Amour laughed at him. ”So stubborn!” the wizard remarked jovially. ”But would this buy the favor?” From a cupboard to the side of the room, the wizard produced a large leather harness. Oliver's eyes widened as he regarded the device. Among the thieves of any city's alleys, it was commonly called a ”housebreaker.” Links of leather strapping secured it to a burglar, and other straps-and small pouches, in the case of the more elaborate designs-held many of the tools of the trade.
”This one is special,” Brind'Amour a.s.sured Oliver. He opened a pouch on one of the shoulder straps, and from it, though it was much too small to hold such an item, took out a curious-looking device: a black, puckered ball affixed to a fine cord. ”A cord much finer than the one you were forced to leave in Balthazar's cave,” the wizard explained. ”And this grapnel will secure itself to the smoothest of walls.” To demonstrate, Brind'Amour casually tossed the ball against the nearest wall and pulled the rope tightly. ”It will hold three large men,” the wizard a.s.sured Oliver.
”Three quick tugs,” Brind'Amour went on, jerking the rope, ”will release the hold.” Sure enough, on the third pull, the grapnel popped free of the wall.
Brind'Amour replaced the item and opened another pouch, this one along the harness's belt strap. He held the housebreaker up close to Oliver's face so the halfling could look inside.
Oliver gawked and blinked. The area inside the open flap was much larger than it appeared from the outside-extradimensional, Oliver realized-and within was the most complete set of tools, files and lock picks, fine wire and even a gla.s.s cutter, that Oliver had ever seen.
”Just think about the item you desire,” Brind'Amour explained. ”It will come to your waiting grasp.”
Oliver did not doubt the wizard's words, but he dearly wanted to see a demonstration. He held his hand near to the open pouch and silently mouthed, ”Skeleton key,” then nearly jumped out of his nights.h.i.+rt when a long-handled key appeared suddenly in his hand.
Recovered from the shock, Oliver turned a devious look on Brind'Amour.
”We have a deal?” the wizard asked, smiling widely.
”I never once thought to walk away from Luthien,” Oliver a.s.sured the man.
The next morning, as promised, Brind'Amour produced the pa.s.ses into Montfort-valuable items, indeed. When the three entered the room where Riverdancer and Threadbare had been stabled, they found Brind'Amour's magic already at work. A glowing door swirled upon the wall, the tunnel that would place the friends on the road outside of Montfort.
The farewell was short and friendly, except from Luthien, who remained cautious and suspicious. Brind'Amour accepted the young man's light handshake and tossed a knowing wink at Oliver.
With his crystal ball, Brind'Amour watched the friends as they exited the magical tunnel and stepped onto the road to Montfort. The wizard would have liked to keep his protective gaze over them at all times. He had taken a great chance by giving the cape and bow to young Luthien, and honestly, he did not know whether faith or simple desperation had guided his actions.
Whatever the reason, Brind'Amour had to leave events to the friends now. He could not emerge from his secret cave, not even look out from it in the direction of Montfort, or anywhere that one of Greensparrow's wizard-dukes might sense his magical gaze and trace the energies to the outlaw wizard.
If King Greensparrow even suspected that Brind'Amour was alive, then doom would surely fall over the wizard, and over Luthien and Oliver as well.
Brind'Amour waved his hand and the crystal ball went dark. The hermit wizard walked slowly out of the chamber and to his bedroom, falling listlessly onto his soft bed. He had set the events into motion, perhaps, but now all that he could do was sit by and wait.
Chapter 13.
MONTFORT.
Riverdancer seemed truly glad to be back out on the open road. The s.h.a.ggy white stallion, coat glistening in the typical morning drizzle, strode powerfully under Luthien. Riverdancer wanted to run, but Luthien kept him in check. The terrain here was more broken than back in the northern fields. They were approaching the foothills of the Iron Cross, and even though they would have the better part of a day's ride to get into Montfort and the rockier mountains, the ground here was strewn with boulders.
”I wish that he had put us closer to the city,” Luthien remarked, anxious to see the place. ”Though I think Riverdancer could use the run.” He patted the horse's muscled flank as he spoke and eased the reins a bit, allowing Riverdancer to spring ahead. Oliver and Threadbare were up beside them again in a moment.
”The wizard, he put us as close as he could,” Oliver replied. He noticed Luthien's quizzical look, not unexpected since Oliver was beginning to understand just how sheltered the young Bedwyr truly was. Oliver remembered Brind'Amour's plea to him to watch over Luthien, and he nodded. ”Whoever it is that keeps the wizard up in his secret cave is likely in Montfort,” he explained.
Luthien thought about it for a moment. ”Morkney,” he reasoned. Brind'Amour had mentioned that Greensparrow's dukes had been corrupted by demonic powers, as had the king, so the reasoning seemed logical enough.
”Or one of his captains,” Oliver agreed.
”Then I should not complain,” Luthien said. ”Brind' Amour proved a fine friend, and I forgive him his lie about the dragon cave in full-he did come to us in our time of need, after all.”
Oliver shrugged in halfhearted agreement. ”If he had come sooner, then we might have enjoyed the spoils of a dragon's treasure,” the halfling said, and he sighed profoundly at that thought.
”We got our gifts,” Luthien replied and patted his saddlebags. He chuckled as he said it, for a cape and folding bow, in truth, did not seem like much of a reward for invading a dragon's lair. But Oliver did not share the young man's mirth, and Luthien was surprised when he looked upon the halfling's cherubic face to see a most serious expression there.
”Do not underestimate that which you have been given,” the halfling said solemnly.
”I have never seen such a bow,” Luthien began.
”Not the bow,” Oliver interjected. ”It is valuable enough, do not doubt. But that which I speak of, that which was the greatest gift, was the crimson cape.”
Luthien looked at him doubtfully, then looked at his saddlebags as though he expected the cape to slip out and rise up in defense of itself. Truly it was a beautiful cape, its crimson coloring so rich that it invited the eye into its depths and s.h.i.+mmered in the slightest light as though it was alive.
”You do not know, do you?” Oliver asked, and Luthien's expression went from doubtful to curious.
”Did you notice anything so very strange about the dragon's reaction toward you when we were in the treasure cave?” Oliver asked slyly. ”And about my own reaction when you met me on the hasty flanking maneuver?”
Hasty flanking maneuver? Luthien pondered for just an instant, but then he realized that to be Oliver's way of saying ”desperate retreat.” Indeed, Luthien had given some thought to the matter of the halfling's question. In the treasure cave, the dragon had ignored him-even seemed as if it hadn't noticed that Oliver had a companion.
”A dragon's eyes, they are finer than an eagle's,” Oliver remarked.
”He never noticed me,” Luthien said, knowing that to be the answer Oliver was looking for, though Luthien didn't think as much of that fact as Oliver obviously did.
”Because of the cape,” Oliver explained. Luthien was shaking his head before the expected response even came forth.
”But it is true!” Oliver told him. ”I, too, did not see you, and almost ran over you.”
”You were intent on the dragon behind you,” Luthien rationalized. ”And Balthazar was intent on you, especially since your pockets were so stuffed with his treasures!”
”But I did not see you even before we found the dragon,” Oliver protested. Now Luthien looked at him with more concern.
”When I first found the staff, I turned about and called down to you,” Oliver went on. ”I thought you had left or gone behind one of the piles, and only when you pulled back your hood was I able to see you.”
”A trick of the light,” Luthien replied, but now it was Oliver who was shaking his head.