The Stories of Elaine Cunningham

by Elaine Cunningham

  "Are you quite all right?" Danilo inquired politely. "Shall I summon your manservant to help you to your room?"

  The man mumbled something unintelligible and wrenched himself free. Dan watched him stagger off, then glanced back for a final look at Arilyn and did an astonished double take. She had fallen back into the shadows between two small buildings and dropped to one knee. There was a throwing knife in her gloved hand, held by the tip and ready to hurl.

  "I know that man," she said as she tucked the knife back into her boot. "Worse yet, he knows me. He was in the assassin's guild with me, in Zazesspur."

  Danilo swore fervently and joined Arilyn in the shadows. Together they squeezed back into a narrow, gnome-sized alley. "Well, at least this confirms that we are on the right path," he said in a low, grim tone. "I suppose it could be mere happenstance that a hired sword from Zazesspur shows up at this particular time, but it's my observation that true coincidence is a rare thing-except in Selgauntan opera, of course…"

  Arilyn nodded absently. "I'll find out who sent him." Danilo swallowed the protest that was his first instinct. Arilyn had spent many months posing as an assassin in Tethyr. The competition among those ranks was fierce and deadly at the best of times, and she had not left the guild under good terms. But she was right: they needed to know what prompted an assassin's presence in this neutral holdfast. Even if the assassin's purpose was not the same as the Harpers', no one would risk violating the peace of the Friendly Arm unless the need was dire, or the potential gain great. To do so would bar the doors of the fortress against the wrongdoers for a gnome's centuries-long memory. This was a severe penalty in these troubled lands, which for so many years could claim few truly neutral places.

  Still, change was in the air. The seemingly endless civil war within Tethyr was winding to a close. Zaranda Star had been acclaimed queen in the city of Zazesspur, and was on the way to solidifying her hold on the entire country. To this end, she was preparing for a marriage of convenience to the last known heir to the royal House of Tethyr. There were factions, however, whose interests were better served by chaos and who had no desire to see peace come to their land. When the Harpers learned that there was a potential challenger to Zaranda's throne, a distant relative of the soon-to-be-king and thus a potential bride, they foresaw trouble. Danilo and Arilyn had been sent to find the young woman and bring her to safety in the Northlands before someone else made her a pawn in a renewed struggle, someone who might send an assassin to retrieve-or do away with-the unsuspecting girl.

  Yes, concluded Dan glumly, Arilyn had no choice but to face the assassin.

  "Be careful," he murmured. Before she could protest, he framed her face in his hands and tipped back her head for a long and thorough kiss.

  "You know better than to distract me before battle." Her tone tried for severity, but did not quite succeed.

  Danilo chuckled. "I shall take that as a compliment."

  He turned and strode into the castle, his manner far more insouciant than his mood. But this was his role to play, and he would attend to his part no less faithfully than did Arilyn.

  Since this was his first visit to the Friendly Arm, he looked around with interest. The great hall had been set up as a tavern. Long tables and sturdy wooden chairs were scattered about, some of them gnome-sized, others intended for the comfort of taller travelers. A wild boar roasted on a spit in the enormous hearth, and kettles of steaming, herb-scented vegetable stews kept warm in the embers along either side. The air was thick with the fragrance of fresh bread and good, sour ale. Several young women moved briskly about the room carrying trays and tankards.

  Prompted more by habit than inclination, Danilo slid an appraising eye over the nearest barmaid. She was young, not much past twenty, and blessed with an abundance of black hair and truly impressive curves. The former was left gloriously unbound, and the later were displayed by a tightly-laced scarlet bodice over a chemise pulled down to expose her shoulders. Her skirts ended several flirtatious inches above her ankles, and her black eyes scanned the room. They lit up with an avaricious gleam when they settled upon the richly-dressed newcomer.

  The barmaid eased her way through the crowd to Danilo's side. A passing merchant jostled her at a highly opportune moment, sending her bumping into the Harper. She made a laughing apology, then tilted her head and slanted a look at him through lowered lashes. "And what can I get you, my lord?"

  "Killed, most likely," he said, thinking of the response this flirtation would earn from the half-elf who was prowling the shadows beyond the brightly-lit hall. "Or severely wounded, at the very least."

  The barmaid's dumbfounded expression brought a smile to his lips. "Wine, if you please," he amended. "A bottle of your best Halruaan red, and several goblets."

  As she wandered off to relay this order to another barmaid, Danilo scanned the tables for the captains of the northbound caravan. Before he could make his way over, he found his path barred by a stout, stern-faced, white-bearded gnome whose crimson jerkin was nearly matched in hue by an exceedingly red and bulbous nose.

  "Bentley Mirrorshade," the gnome announced.

  Danilo nodded. "Ah, yes-the proprietor of this fine establishment. Allow me to intro-"

  "I know who you are," Bentley interrupted in a gruff tone. "Word gets around. There'll be no fighting and no spellcasting. Leave your weapons at the door. Sophie here will peace bind your left thumb to your belt."

  Danilo winced. "It appears I will never live down that incident in the Stalwart Club."

  "Never heard about that one." The gnome nodded to the barmaid who had greeted Danilo earlier. She fished a thin strip of leather from her pocket and deftly secured the bard's hand. As she worked, Danilo scanned the room and noticed that he was not the only one subjected to such precautions: all known mages were peace bound, and everyone was required to leave weapons at the door.

  Danilo made his way to the merchant captains' table. After the introductions were made, he poured out the first of several bottles of well-aged wine, and listened as the conversation flowed. Although the merchants talked a great deal, they said little that informed his cause.

  As the night wore on, Danilo found his eyes returning with increasing frequency to the door. His fellow travelers trickled in as their duties were completed and the caravan and its goods secured. Elaith was one of the latecomers. Danilo noted with interest that the elf was subjected to peace binding. Few people knew of the moon elf's considerable magical abilities. Dan had heard that Bentley Mirrorshade was a highly gifted mage, specializing in the illusionist's art. Obviously, he didn't miss much. Still, Dan suspected that Elaith managed to retain a good many of his hidden weapons.

  The evening passed and the hall began to empty as the gnomes and their guests sought their beds. As soon as he reasonably could, Danilo left the hall in search of his partner.

  He found Arilyn in the stable, currying her mare. She looked up when he came into the stall. Her face was pale and grim beneath its hood, and gave clear testament to her evening's work. Fighting came easily to the half-elf-Danilo had never seen anyone who could handle a sword as well-but killing did not. Even so, Danilo sensed at once that something else weighed heavily on her mind.

  "Tell me," he prompted.

  "I had to wait until Yoseff was alone," Arilyn said in a low, furious tone. "He had a meeting. With Elaith Craulnober."

  Danilo hissed a curse from between clenched teeth. "Why am I not surprised? Did you hear what was said?"

  "No, nothing. Elaith must have cast a spell of silence, or some such thing."

  "Now what?" mused Dan, running one hand through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. He had investigated Elaith's purpose in this trip, which was allegedly to acquire exotic goods from faraway Maztica in the markets of Amn. The elf would make a fine profit selling these wares to the merchants of Waterdeep, but he had also arranged to acquire goods that were restricted or forbidden outright: feather magic, enspelled gems, possibly even slaves. Dani
lo had considered this the extent of Elaith's planned mischief; apparently, he had been wrong.

  "And the assassin? What had he to say for himself?"

  "Yoseff was never one for conversation," Arilyn said shortly. "But he carried a few things that might help us."

  She reached into the bag that hung from her belt and took several glittering objects from it. The first to catch Danilo's eye was a finely wrought gold locket on a heavy gold chain. A very nice amethyst-brilliant cut, thumb-sized, and deep purple in hue-was set into the front of the locket and a wisp of fine, black hair was nestled within.

  "An amulet of seeking," he surmised, fingering the soft curl. "Hair so soft could only have belonged to an elf or a baby. I'm guessing the latter. So we not only have a fair idea who the assassin came to find, but also who sent him-may all the gods damn the woman who would so use her own child!"

  Before he could elaborate, a female voice, raised in a keening wail, cut through the night. It was a chilling sound, an age-old, wordless song of mourning. It spoke of death more clearly than any cleric's eulogy, and far more poignantly.

  Arilyn bolted from the stable with Danilo close behind her. They dashed through the nearly empty hall, toward the babble of gnomish voices in a side chamber. A thick-chested gnome barred their way, an odd-looking fellow with hair and skin of nearly matching shades of slate gray. Danilo recognized him from descriptions as Garith Hunterstock, Bentley's second-in-command. Though the gnomish commander was determined to keep them out, the Harpers were tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd.

  In the room beyond, Bentley Mirrorshade lay in a spreading pool of blood. The hilt of a jeweled dagger rose from his chest.

  "No one in, no one out," the gnome guard decreed. He raised his voice and began to bellow orders. "Lower the portcullis and bar the gates! Archers, to the walls! Shoot down anyone who tries to leave the fortress before the murderer is found."

  Later that night, Danilo and his "servant" attended a grim gathering in the castle's hall. The body of Bentley Mirrorshade lay in state upon a black-draped table. Lit torches lined the walls, casting a somber, golden light.

  The crowd parted to allow a green-robed gnome woman to pass. Respectful silence filled the room as Gellana Mirrorshade, the high priestess of Garl Glittergold and the widow of Bentley Mirrorshade, made her way to her husband's bier. She carried herself with admirable dignity. Her pale brown face was set in rigid lines, but her eyes were steady and dry.

  The priestess spoke into the silence. "You are gathered here to see justice done. It is no small thing to speak with the dead, but evil deeds must not go unpunished."

  Gellana began the words and gestures of a complicated ritual. Danilo watched closely; nothing about the spell was familiar to him. He had studied magic since his twelfth year with no less a teacher than the archmage Khelben Arunsun, but the magic of a wizard and that of a priest were very different things. Apparently, the priestess was skilled and devout, for a translucent image of Bentley Mirrorshade slowly took form in the air above the pall.

  "The dead must speak truth," Gellana said softly, "and in life or in death, Bentley Mirrorshade would tell no direct lie. Tell us, my husband, who is responsible for this death."

  The specter's eyes swept the assemblage. His stubby, translucent finger lifted, swept to the left, and leveled at Elaith Craulnober with a sharp, accusing stab.

  For the first time in their acquaintance, Danilo saw the elf's composure utterly forsake him. Elaith's face went slack and ashen, and his amber-hued eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

  "What nonsense is this?" the elf protested as soon as he could gather enough of his wits to fuel speech. "I am innocent of this thing!"

  "Silence!" Gellana demanded. She held a jeweled dagger up for the ghostly gnome's inspection. "Was this the weapon used?"

  The spectral head rose and fell once, slowly, in a nod of confirmation. Despite the gravity of the occasion, Danilo could not help but observe that the gnome's spirit had a remarkable flair for drama.

  "And whose dagger is this?" persisted Gellana.

  "It belongs to the elf," proclaimed the spirit. "It is Elaith Craulnober's dagger."

  Gellana Mirrorshade's eyes were hard as they swept the gathering. "Have you heard enough? May I release my husband, and in his name order the death of this treacherous elf?"

  A murmur arose, gathering power and fury. The accused elf stood alone in an angry circle of gnomes, buffeted by a storm of accusation and demands for immediate retribution. Elaith's eyes went flat and cool, and his chin lifted with elven hauteur as he faced his death.

  That gesture, that purely elven mixture of pride and courage and disdain, was to be his salvation. Danilo had always been a fool for all things elven, and this moment proved no exception. He sighed and quickly cast a cantrip that would add power and persuasion to his voice.

  "Wait," he demanded.

  The single word thrummed through the great hall like a clarion blast, and the gnomes fell suddenly silent. Garith Hunterstock froze, his sword poised to cut the elf down. Danilo reached out and gently eased the gnome's blade away from Elaith Craulnober's throat.

  "The elf claims innocence," he said. "We should at least consider the possibility that he speaks truth."

  "Bentley Mirrorshade himself accused the elf!" shouted a high-pitched gnomish voice from the crowd.

  "The dead do not lie!" another small voice added.

  "That is true enough," Dan agreed in a conciliatory tone, "but perhaps there is some other explanation that will serve both truths."

  Inspiration struck, and he glanced at Arilyn. She stood near the back of the room, nearly indistinguishable from the shadows. "Earlier this evening, Elaith Craulnober was seen meeting with a known thief and assassin. Perhaps this man stole the dagger, and used it to kill the gnome?"

  "That is not possible," Arilyn said flatly. "The assassin was dead before Bentley Mirrorshade's murder."

  "Dead?" Garith Hunterstock said, turning a fierce glare in her direction. "By whose hand?"

  The half-elf returned his gaze steadily. "He attacked me; I defended myself. You will find his body behind the smokehouse."

  "And who might you be?" demanded the gnome.

  Arilyn slipped down her cowl and stepped into the firelight. Before she could speak, a young gnome clad in forest green let out a startled exclamation. "I know her! She's the Harper who fought alongside the elves of Tethyr's forest. If she says the stiff behind the smokehouse needed killing, that's good enough for me. And if she speaks for yonder elf, I say that's reason enough to think things over real careful."

  Dozens of expectant faces turned in Arilyn's direction. Danilo saw the flicker of regret in her eyes as she met Elaith's stare, and he knew what her answer would be.

  "I cannot speak for him," she said. "On the other hand, it never hurts to think things over. Lord Thann has apparently appointed himself Elaith Craulnober's advocate. Give them time-two days, perhaps-to prove the elf's claim of innocence. I know of Bentley Mirrorshade, and nothing I've heard suggests that he would want anyone denied a fair hearing."

  A soft, angry mutter greeted her words, but no one could think of a way to refute them. Garith Hunterstock ordered the elf taken away and imprisoned. The others left, too, slipping away in silence to leave Gellana Mirrorshade alone with her dead.

  As the sun edged over the eastern battlements of the fortress, Danilo made his way down the tightly spiraling stairs that led to the dungeon. It was a dank, gloomy place, lit only by an occasional sputtering torch thrust into a rusted sconce.

  Since Elaith was the only prisoner, his cell was not hard to find. Danilo followed the faint light to the far corner of the dungeon. The elf's cell was small, the ceiling too low for him to stand upright. The only furniture was a straw pallet. Elaith wore only his leggings and shirt, and his thumbs were entrapped in opposite ends of a metal tube, a gnomish device of some sort designed to make spellcasting impossible. He had been stripped of weapons, armor, and m
agical items. These lay heaped in an impressive pile, well beyond reach of the cell.

  Danilo eyed the glittering hoard. "Did you actually wear all that steel? It's a wonder you could walk without clanking."

  The elf's furious, amber-eyed glare reminded Danilo of a trapped hawk. "Come to gloat?"

  "Perhaps later," he said. "At the moment, though, I would rather hear what you have to say."

  "And you would believe me?"

  "I would listen. That seems a reasonable place to start."

  The elf was silent for a long moment. "I did not kill the gnome."

  "You know, of course, how difficult it is for the dead to lie," Danilo pointed out. "The spirit of Bentley Mirrorshade named you as his killer. The weapon that dealt the killing stroke is yours. The proof against you is formidable."

  "Nevertheless, I am innocent," Elaith maintained. A sudden, fierce gleam lit his eyes. "I am innocent, and you must prove me so."

  Dan lifted one eyebrow. "Since I have a full two days, shouldn't I warm up with an easier task? Pilfering Elminster's favorite pipe maybe, or bluffing an illithid at cards, or persuading Arilyn to dance upon a tavern table?"

  "I did not say the task would be easy, but when you signed on to travel with my caravan you promised your support and aid to the expedition."

  "Insofar as its purpose was lawful and just," Danilo specified.

  "What better way to fulfill this pledge than to clear an innocent person, unjustly accused? And why would you speak for me in the tavern, if you had no intention of following through?"

  The Harper shrugged. "Excellent points. Very well, then, let's assume for argument's sake that I will take on this task. Consider my dilemma; even under the best of circumstances, 'innocent' is not the first word that comes to mind when your name is mentioned."