[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

All-knowing Cumquat.
It was actually very disappointing. See, it would have more accurately been titled the Cumquat of the
Knowledge of How to Cure Ailments of the Foot. Why the god or sorcerer or other thing that creates
such items had thought it necessary to hide it so well and put all the creatures there to guard it, I have no
idea.
Maybe it was all an elaborate joke. Whatever the case, I found no need to tell the remaining minions. I
let them all go with severance pay.
So, now I'm in the evil sorceress business, with my own scantily clad minions of well-built men. But
when we go on quests to get great evil stuff, I let them dress warmer, in the hopes of keeping their
loyalty.
These days I wear long, flowing, loosely-fitting, luxurious robes of purple and blue velvet. I'm warm and
comfortable, anddamn, I look good.
Combat Shopping
Lee Martindale
Horatia waited until the battle was over before trying to dismember the mage.
That she was a professional accounted for a portion of her patience. That she was a trifle busy staying
alive accounted for the rest. That the spell which dissolved her armor into a heap of unrecoverable slag
around her ankles had come from the hand of a magesupposedlyon Horatia's side of the conflict
accounted for the warrior's less-than-collegial attitude.
Horatia had been dubbed "the Heroic" as much for her impressive dimensions as for her considerable
prowess in battle. One look at those heroic, near-naked proportions moving toward her with deadly
intent was enough to send the dainty mage scrambling up the nearest hairy, sweat-drenched warrior.
Asaria made it to his shoulders and was seeking purchase on his head when Horatia peeled her off.
Asaria managed one unladylike squawk before a sword-hardened hand closed around her throat and the
arm to which it was attached held her eye-to-eye-level with the considerably taller battle-maid.
As her comrades alternated between laughing at the situation and admiring portions of the warrior they
didn't normally see, Horatia glared. Then she growled, "Give me one reason,bann seighebait, why I
shouldn't scatter little bits of you from here to the borders of Keldaough."
The dangling mage opened her mouth to speak whether spell or supplication is not known. But speech
requires breath and taking one proved to be problematic. Next she balled delicate hands into delicate
fists and beat an equally delicate and ineffectual tattoo against the arm that held her. She was starting
to go limp, her usually ruby lips turning an unflattering shade of blue, when the company's commander
arrived and bellowed at Horatia to "put that spellcaster down this minute!" Horatia blinked, came to
attention, opened her hand and complied.
An hour later Horatia arrived at the commander's tent, wearing tunic and breeches and the wary
demeanor of a mouse suddenly deposited into a loft full of cats. Asaria arrived shortly thereafter, moving
stiffly from the bruises to the underpadded portion of her anatomy on which she'd landed. Both declined
the seats offered by the commander.
"Then let us get right to the matter. As I understand it, the attempt by Horatia the Heroic to throttle
Asaria Katri a short while ago was precipitated by the destruction of the former's armor by a misfired
spell from the hand of the latter. Is that the way of it?"
"Aye, sir," Horatia answered, glaring at the other woman.
"I'm not sure what you mean by 'misfire,' Commander," Asaria began, her usually sweet voice hoarse
and with an upper-register harmonic that made the others wince, "but I can assure you that no ill will was
intended. These things happen occasionally; my apprentice has been chastised for his error in calculation.
And now that we have that cleared up . . ."
"Not so fast, madam," the commander barked. He glanced at Horatia with a look clearly meant to nail
her in place, then turned back toward the mage. "The cause may be identified, but the effects still remain
to be put right. To a warrior, armor is as necessary a tool of the trade as sword or pike or war hammer.
Deprive one of my best warriors of her armor, and you deprivemeof one of my best warriors . . . a
situation to which I don't take kindly. Therefore, it is my order that you, Asaria Katri, will make generous
restitution to Horatia the Heroic, in an amount sufficient to replace what has been destroyed with as good
or better than she had." Asaria began to sputter, but the commander ignored it as he continued, "Plus an
amount sufficient to serve as recompense for the time she'll have to take to find that armor or have it
made, and the time spent away from my army. All told . . . I'm thinking a sum of two thousand gold
pieces to be a fair one."
"Twothousand. . . ?" the mage's protest came in a voice that was entirely within that annoying upper
register. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]