The Nether Scroll Read Online Free Page A

shot back.
    Florozt'a had come into Dru and Galimer's lives a few years after Ansoain's death. They
were all younger then and she'd been new to the journeying life. She'd sold her sword to a
Zhentilar captain who'd only pretended to value her fighting skills. When he'd tried, one too
many times, to demonstrate what he did value from women, she'd left him writhing on the
ground.
    It had been a short-lived victory. Rozt'a had quickly found herself without a contract and
stranded on the empty road east of Triel with no more than her sword, the clothes on her
back, and a leaking waterskin. The gods knew what might have happened next if Druhallen
and Galimer hadn't been riding magic with the next eastbound caravan. They'd both
remembered the striking woman and her boorish captain, and judged that he'd deserved
whatever damage she'd done to him, maybe more.
    Riding double behind Galimer, she'd said that wizards who journeyed the Western
Heartlands should hire their own bodyguards and not rely on someone else's muscle to
protect them when the going got rough. Dru and Galimer, who scarcely needed words to
exchange ideas, then or now, had hired her on the spot, more from pity than need. But Rozt'a
fit comfortably between them, and by the end of that season they were a threesome.
    Rozt'a's hair was a few shades yellower than Galimer's and cropped ragged just below her
ears. She was tall for a woman. In the sun, with her hair standing wild, she was nearly as tall
as Druhallen and broader across through shoulders, in any weather, than Galimer. She and
Galimer could pass themselves off as siblings. From behind, with her weapons and leathers
about her, Rozt'a passed for the brother.
    When her temper was blazing as it did in the rented room, a wise man kept his head
tucked low.
    "What's a bit of earnest to the likes of them?" she ranted. "If they cared about their
precious earnest, they'd have waited for us. They were in one damn hurry and we're three
full, forsaken days early ourselves! Helm's eyes! One nose-full of trouble and they ran with
the first Zhentarim spend-spell who admired the shine in their purses. I tell you, this has
nothing to do with Dekanter or the Beast Lord—those dogs meant to betray our faith from the
start."
    She got Dru's attention with that last remark. Any time Rozt'a uttered the words "love",
"betray", and "faith" in close order, she could count on Druhallen's full attention.
    It had been nearly nine years since she accepted Galimer's marriage proposal and,
despite occasional outbursts, their union endured, but—make no mistake about it—the gold-
haired mage hadn't been Rozt'a's first choice.
    Dru had missed all the signals. Galimer had been smitten with Rozt'a from the start, and
what woman would be interested in a carpenter's burly son when she had the likes of Galimer
Longfingers waiting on her every wish? Of course, he'd valued her company. Of course, he
would have liked more—but the carpenter's son didn't poach, not on Galimer, not on his true friend.
    Then came the night when Rozt'a had ambushed him with a not-at-all-friendly kiss. He'd
muttered something about honor and she'd replied that she was in love ... with him. Galimer
gallantly proclaimed that he couldn't be happier than to see them together. She began to talk
of marriage, of children, and settling down in one place. The problem was that, as attractive
as Druhallen found Rozt'a, he didn't love her as she loved him and talk of marriage, children,
or rooting himself in the ground like a tree turned his blood to ice.
    Druhallen had kept his reservations to himself for over a year. He came up with excuses—
good excuses—to postpone the wedding until they reached Berdusk, on their way home to Scornubel
for the winter, when Rozt'a announced that they'd be having a child come spring. The announcement
was more of a surprise than it should have been and Dru would go to his grave knowing that he'd
reacted