R.A. Salvatore
The Halfling’s Gem
“He left this,” Pellman continued, handing the tiny pouch to Wulfgar. “And bade me to tell you that he will await your arrival in Calimport.”
Wulfgar held the pouch tentatively, as if expecting it to explode in his face.
“Our thanks,” Drizzt told Pellman. “We will tell our associate that you performed the task admirably.”
Pellman nodded and bowed, turning away as he did so, to return to his duties.
Drizzt led Wulfgar off to the side, out of plain view. Seeing the barbarian’s paling look, he took the tiny pouch and gingerly loosened the draw string, holding it as far away as possible. With a shrug to Wulfgar, who had moved a cautious step away, Drizzt brought the pouch down to his belt level and peeked in.
Wulfgar moved closer, curious and concerned when he saw Drizzt’s shoulders droop. The drow looked to him in helpless resignation and inverted the pouch, revealing its contents.
A halfling’s finger.
To my sister Susan,
who’ll never know how
much her support has meant
to me over the last few years.
Prelude
The wizard looked down upon the young woman with uncertainty. Her back was to him; he could see the thick mane of her auburn locks flowing around her shoulders, rich and vibrant. But the wizard knew, too, the sadness that was in her eyes. So young she was, barely more than a child, and so beautifully innocent.
Yet this beautiful child had put a sword through the heart of his beloved Sydney.
Harkle Harpell brushed away the unwanted memories of his dead love and started down the hill. “A fine day,” he said cheerily when he reached the young woman.
“Do ye think they’ve made the tower?” Catti-brie asked him, her gaze never leaving the southern horizon.
Harkle shrugged. “Soon, if not yet.” He studied Catti-brie and could find no anger against her for her actions. She had killed Sydney, it was true, but Harkle knew just by looking at her that necessity, not malice, had guided her sword arm. And now he could only pity her.