Songs & Swords 1 (18 page)

“Blackstaff’s nephew?” For the first time, Kymil’s face showed a flicker of interest. Just as quickly, the interest was gone. “What of it?”

“Perhaps nothing,” Elaith allowed. “But Arilyn Moonblade is reputed to be skilled at concealing her identity and purpose. Is it inconceivable that her companion is similarly gifted?”

The face in the globe twisted in annoyance. “Your effrontery is inconceivable. You forget, gray elf, that I can observe Arilyn Moonblade myself. The conversation at your table tonight was noted. The Thann twit challenged you to a battle of words—notice that I did not say wits—and the match was a draw.”

“But he is Blackstaff’s nephew.”

“So you’ve said. I see no significance.”

“He is well placed and more clever than he pretends to be,” Elaith said. “Given her background, surely the Harpers suspect Arilyn of the recent spate of murders. Perhaps this Thann boy is a spy, sent to ascertain her guilt or innocence.”

“Ha!” Kymil broke in scornfully. “Danilo Thann is no more a Harper than you or I.”

“Perhaps not, but if he were, wouldn’t it be amusing if he were to fall victim to the Harper Assassin?”

“You have a peculiar sense of humor.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told,” Elaith agreed. “Now, what about Danilo Thann?”

“If you want the fool dead, see to it. One human more or less is of no consequence to me.”

The face in the globe began to fade into mist. “I also saw Bran Skorlsun,” said Elaith casually.

Instantly the image snapped into sharp focus. “Yes, I thought that might get your attention,” Elaith murmured, a malicious glint lighting his amber eyes. “Imagine my surprise to see our mutual friend again after all these years. Of course, I did not recognize him at first. Humans can age appallingly in—what has it been? Almost forty years?”

Kymil brushed aside the question. “Bran Skorlsun was there? At the House of Good Spirits?”

“Fascinating coincidence, wouldn’t you say?” Elaith said casually.

Lost in thought, Kymil again failed to comment. After a pause, he said, “You did well to contact me. I will send you your usual fee.”

Elaith had contacted Kymil Nimesin merely to annoy him, but now the moon elf’s curiosity was piqued. Any plot involving Bran Skorlsun smelled of adventure, and where there was adventure there was potential profit. He decided to ignore the gold elf’s patronizing attitude for now and press for details. Retribution for tonight’s insults would come later.

“Is there something further with which I can help you?” Elaith offered.

“Nothing,” Kymil said curtly. “Wait. Yes, there is.”

“At your service,” Elaith replied.

“You can stay away from Arilyn Moonblade.”

“Of course. Is that all?”

“Yes.”

Kymil’s tone held the ring of finality. Elaith was not impressed. He was accustomed to having the last word himself, in his own time and in his own fashion. “As you wish. There is, however, the little matter of my fee,” the moon elf pointed out. “The terms have changed. I prefer payment in, shall we say, a less direct form of currency.”

“Yes? Well?”

“Danilo Thann,” Elaith said flatly.

“Done,” snapped Kymil Nimesin. “As I said, it matters not to me whether he lives or dies. Considering the gold you’re giving up, your pride has a high price.”

As you will learn, Elaith Craulnobur thought, my pride has a very high price indeed.

Nine

“We could share it,” ventured Danilo.

“Hardly,” Arilyn returned, looking pointedly at the narrow cot that was the chamber’s only bed. “A pair of newlywed halflings would find it too crowded. I’ll take the floor.”

Danilo watched as she settled down on a pallet by the fireside and jerked a blanket over her head. “I should be a gentleman and insist that you take the bed, but I’m too tired to argue,” he said.

“Good,” came the muffled response.

With a sigh, Danilo sank down on the bed. So what if this was the humblest chamber in a second-rate inn? They were lucky to find a place to sleep. And after the rigors of travel, anyplace would do. Yet it was some time before sleep came to Danilo. Long after Arilyn’s faint, measured breathing assured him that his companion had fallen asleep, he lay wakeful on his lumpy mattress.

The encounter with the rogue moon elf troubled Danilo. Back in Evereska, the nobleman had recognized Perendra’s sigil on the gold snuffbox. The one-eared thug had acquired the box from an elf in Waterdeep. It was not unreasonable to assume that this elf might be a key to the mystery of the Harper Assassin. In Danilo’s mind, the Craulnobur rogue was certainly an elf to consider in their search.

Danilo had discovered long ago that when people were put on edge, they tended to reveal more than they’d intended. He had done his best to disconcert Elaith Craulnobur. The elf’s dark reputation lent risk to Danilo’s strategy, but a fool such as he could usually get away with many things.

Danilo smiled ruefully into the darkness. It had been one of his better performances, yet Elaith Craulnobur had been remarkably unaffected by it. The only thing that Danilo had accomplished that evening was further alienating Arilyn. That bothered him more than he liked to admit. The young nobleman cast a quick glance at the sleeping half-elf.

Half-elf. That was something else to think about. Danilo laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the cracks in the ceiling. Since he’d first seen Arilyn’s portrait, he’d thought of her as a human woman. That perception had lingered long after he’d learned her true heritage, and he’d come to consider her one of the most intriguing women he’d ever met, although certainly a stubborn and somewhat mysterious member of that group. Tonight for the first time he’d been forced to see another side of Arilyn Moonblade. He realized with a jolt of surprise that she considered herself more elf than human; no one could watch her face during the Elverquisst ritual and doubt that. Arilyn’s character had been shaped by the elven culture that had raised her and, Danilo suspected, rejected her.

The nobleman trusted his instincts about people; they had rarely led him astray. Many times on the ride to Waterdeep he had seen in Arilyn flashes of a bitterness too deep for him to fathom. He remembered the night they’d spent in the traveler’s hut and how Arilyn’s face had looked as she spoke of the gold elf who had taunted her about her heritage. For the first time Danilo wondered what it meant to be a half-elf, never truly a part of either world.

Oh, he could see it in her, the longing for things elven. Arilyn had been drawn to Elaith Craulnobur, charmed by his courtesy and his ready acceptance of her as an equal. An etriel, Elaith had called her, which Danilo knew was a respectful term for a female elf who was noble in bloodline, character, or both. Danilo got the impression that Arilyn was not accustomed to such treatment, for she had turned toward the rogue moon elf like a morning glory seeking a sunrise. From what he had learned of Arilyn during the past two tendays, he perceived that this reaction was out of character for her. She took a fierce pride in her ability to stand alone without help from or need for anyone else.

Well, he would keep a close eye on their new acquaintance. If Arilyn’s judgment concerning the moon elf was impaired, Danilo would take upon himself the responsibility of maintaining a proper perspective. He was in a better position to consider the matter objectively.

Sure I am, Danilo thought, and a quiet chuckle escaped him. Uncle Khelben had often told him that too little self knowledge made a person dangerous. The good archmage had neglected to mention that too much self knowledge was not always a blessing.

Danilo sighed. Perhaps it was the strange weather that made him so introspective. Now that the rain had stopped, it was a fairly warm night for autumn. The wind had shifted, coming strongly from the south, and it whistled around the old building, causing many a creak and groan. Tonight was the sort of night in which one waited for the other boot to drop, and Danilo could not shake an almost palpable sense of impending … something. Anything could happen on such a night. With so many ale-soaked, money-laden guests from which to choose, the inn was an ideal target for a thief or worse. Throw Arilyn’s shadow into the pot, and there was more than trouble enough to keep a man awake.

He cast another glance at his slumbering companion. How could Arilyn sleep on such a night? She must put a lot of faith in the moonblade’s ability to warn of danger, which it could apparently do in any number of ways. Danilo had seen the thing glow in the Marsh of Chelimber. One night during their journey Arilyn had awakened him and insisted they lay giant snares about their camp. Sure enough, they caught a pair of owlbears. Arilyn had answered his questions only by saying that the moonblade had sent her a dreamwarning. Danilo thought it a fortunate quirk for a magic sword to have. Owlbears were notorious for ferocity, and without the sword’s warning he and Arilyn would have had little chance against eight-foot-tall creatures who sported the most lethal features of both bears and owls. Comparatively, why shouldn’t Arilyn feel fairly secure within the four walls of the inn?

Danilo rolled onto his side and gazed through the open window into the starless sky. The night matched his mood—eerie, brooding, uncertain. Although the autumn moon was full and round and silver, the night was dark. The brisk wind tossed clouds across the sky, and only occasionally did the moon glimpse though an opening. For lack of anything better to do, Danilo watched the scurrying clouds, idly observing the play of moonlight against the walls of the inn’s most humble chamber.

So he lay, counting the hourly chiming of the bells from the nearby temple of Torm, until finally, lulled by the restless moonlight, he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

A shadowy figure glided silently down the hall of the inn. It moved inexorably toward the chamber at the far end. A heavy door bore the proud legend, “King Rhigaerd’s Chamber,” commemorating some long-ago chance visit by that past king of Cormyr. The occupant of this chamber was usually the inn’s most honored guest. Tonight proved no exception.

The door swung open without its customary creak, and the intruder slipped into the room. Rhys Ravenwind curled under the thick coverlet, one hand flung lovingly against the soundboard of the harp at his bedside. The dark figure crept to the side of the bed, and, taking up one of Rhys’s clever, long-fingered hands, pressed a grim object into the bard’s palm.

There was a faint hiss of burning flesh. When the sound faded, the assassin opened the window and flitted silently into the night. A gust of wind caught the strings of the harp, and an almost mournful chord was the instrument’s farewell to its owner.

Down the hall, in a small chamber never graced by royalty, Arilyn Moonblade tossed and twisted on her pallet in the grip of a nightmare.

Whenever the moonblade sent her a dreamwarning, Arilyn immediately woke up and prepared to face whatever danger approached. It was practical, efficient. This dream had all the intensity and immediacy of a dreamwarning, yet no matter how hard she struggled to awaken, she could not free herself of sleep. Something was holding her back, something dark and ancient and full of a despair that was partly her own.

Breathing hard, Arilyn found herself sitting upright on the floor of the House of Fine Spirits’ most humble chamber. Still groggy, she dug her fists into her eyes, rubbing away the last vestiges of sleep. She stretched noiselessly, then tugged on her boots. Since she could never sleep after such a dream, she decided to take a walk.

Arilyn froze, suddenly not certain that she truly was awake. The clouds had parted, and the moon cast its light into the room, revealing a slender, shadowy figure bent over the sleeping form of Arilyn’s troublesome companion.

Danilo! Without another thought she snatched her dagger from her boot and leaped to her feet, ready to carve the heart from the intruder. She flung herself across the room at the assailant, dagger leading. To her complete bafflement, the slash that should have killed the intruder merely sliced open Danilo’s lumpy pillow. She hit the cot hard, and a cloud of feathers puffed into the air.

Danilo awoke with a startled “oof,” and his arms closed reflexively around his attacker.

“Let me go!” Arilyn demanded, pushing herself up on her elbows and away from the bed.

The dandy’s eyes widened in shock as they focused on the dagger still in Arilyn’s hand, but he merely tightened his grip on her waist. “Good gods, woman, haven’t I told you that you don’t need that thing? You’re welcome enough without it.”

Arilyn met his jest with a sharp curse and another attempt to wriggle away. With speed and strength she would not have thought possible, Danilo flipped them both out of the cot onto the floor, pinning her body beneath his. As they struggled amid the lazily drifting feathers, he grasped her wrist and squeezed until her hand went numb and the dagger dropped to the floor.

Arilyn hurled curses at him in Elvish and strained to break free. “Let me up,” she growled.

“Not until you explain what’s going on.”

The steel in his tone startled Arilyn. For whatever reason, Danilo meant what he said. She couldn’t stop to talk now, for every instinct told her that the intruder had been the Harper Assassin. Never had she been so close.

Arilyn let her body go limp. Danilo, sensing her surrender, relaxed his grip just a bit.

That was all she needed. Every finely honed muscle in her slender body tensed, and she twisted, violently throwing her captor off. He rolled, but to Arilyn’s surprise he did not loose his hold on her wrist. She leaped to her feet and kicked the nobleman on the inside curve of his elbow. For just a moment his reflexes overcame his grip, and Arilyn wrenched her hand free. She headed for the door, snatching up her sword as she went.

Danilo recovered from the blow quickly. He threw himself forward, grabbing an ankle. Arilyn fell flat, and her moonblade clattered to the floor just out of reach. Furious, she lashed out at him with her free foot. She connected hard, catching his jaw with an audible crack. He let go of her ankle, and he swore with a fluency astounding for one of his station.