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.She could never determine if the added levels were in separate dimensions or just far away in other towers elsewhere in the Realms.It was nigh impossible to alter the outside or inside walls of the tower.There were four command words Tsarra used most often while walking the stairs."Summath" teleported her to one of the dormitory levels, the one assigned as her chambers and those of four other female students; "Aradsol" took her anywhere on the stairs to the roof; "Vhuarm" sent her down to the cellar where tunnels linked it to Piergeiron's palace and other places across the city; and "Traeloth" deposited her into the main entry chamber of the tower's ground floor.The three core levels of the tower could be reached simply by walking up or down the stairs.Tsarra said, "Summath," and her step took her to a landing off the stairwell.The teleports were always so smooth that someone not paying attention would scarcely believe they had shifted from the main tower.She moved around to her door and opened it, pulling her bow and quiver off as she shouldered the door open.She put her weapons on the bed across from the door, unbuckling her sword belt and laying it on the bed as well.She quickly unbuckled her leathers and stepped over toward her wardrobe.She pulled out a shallow but wide ceramic basin from under the wardrobe, its bottom holding a mosaic of Sune.Tsarra shivered, thinking of the man's cold alblutions earlier.She was glad she'd made friends at the Firehair's temple, trading minor items for others easily made by her own hand.She grabbed her large pitcher from the windowsill and stood in the basin as she poured the water.The water, shockingly cold as it hit her feet, rose in a shimmering wave, warming as it rose and fell again, as comfortable as a summer shower.Tsarra stood in the basin, letting the water rain down on her two or three times before she felt clean.As she stepped off the basin, the water fell and steamed away.Tsarra toweled her long hair but dried herself in the morning sunbeams and air.She stood before her wardrobe a while before choosing a simple shift of gray wool.She approached the bed and took up the bow and arrows, placing them carefully back in their places on hooks next to the wardrobe.Finally, she drew the scimitar from its sheath, and its silver sheen caught the morning light to dazzling effect.Mhaornathil-the only thing she'd inherited from her mother other than her elf blood-was a Rilifane-blessed scimitar that could cut ghosts as easily as flesh.Tsarra loved the blade almost as much as she hated undead, the bane of her existence since her father died by undead hands fifteen years before.Still, Tsarra knew she couldn't use the scimitar for the test.Danthra already knew a lot about the blade, and it wouldn't be a fair test of the spell.She snapped the weapon back into its sheath and hung it and the sword belt on their pegs above her headboard.Tsarra approached her window to stand in the sunlight a moment and breathe in the fresh morning air.Within five breaths, she sensed her familiar coming, even though he didn't loop around the tower and land on the windowsill for a handful of moments.She loved the muffled rustle of his wings as he landed, as well as his purred greeting.In its language, she said, "Good hunt to you too, mighty one."Jet black in hue, the tressym stuck his head out, gesturing for a head scratch, his ravenlike wings ruffling slightly over his back.Tsarra obliged him, letting him rub his head solidly on her palm.She stopped a moment, staring into his mismatched eyes-one of deep blue, the other green-and smiled."Of course you're a good companion and a very good hunter," she said.When the creature tensed to hop onto her shoulder, she held him back, smoothing his feathers and chucking him under the chin.In Common, rather than the purrs of tressymspeak, she said, "Not a chance until the smell of those chipmunks you ate fades from your breath.Now, go take a nap.I've got to work with Danthra for a while.Oh, and remember to leave Chaid's familiar alone until he gets used to you."Nameless let out a trilling purr, and she said, "I don't care if he looks and smells like prey.He's not food, any more than you are." His trilling retort made Tsarra laugh as the tressym flapped his wings and headed out the nearest window, en route to the sunny top of the tower.Tsarra chuckled as she finished combing her hair with her fingers.Satisfied her auburn curls were under control with a white ribbon tying them back, she exited her room and descended the stairs [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]