by Mel Odom
Either term, Xuxa replied, it will be berries and spring water for breakfast.
I'll make it up to you at the Glass Eye Concourse, Baylee promised. You know there will be more than enough to eat once we arrive there.
And we'll stay the duration?
Xuxa, this is a forgathering. Not only that, it's one of the biggest far-gatherings of rangers in the year. Once it starts, it may not end for months.
The azmyth bat gave a happy chuckle of expected contentment.
We'll stay a tenday, Baylee promised.
I'll hold you to that.
In the silence, the ranger's thoughts wandered again to Jaeleen. He felt drawn to her in a way that moths winged to flame. Though he was loathe to admit it, there was not much to like about Jaeleen. She was self-centered, arrogant, and petty. But during the times he shared with her, contested against her own nature to try to get her to see a wider view of the world, he was convinced he'd never meet another woman like her who set his heart thrumming in quite the same fashion. When there was no sarcastic remark forthcoming from Xuxa, he was grateful. He knew he was allowed to have private thoughts in the azmyth bat's presence in spite of her telepathic powers, but he remained suspicious of how much Xuxa monitored him.
After the forgathering, Xuxa asked, are you still planning on returning to Waterdeep?
Baylee hesitated.
Remember, Xuxa said, no lies.
I don't know.
Well, at least that's honest, if not definitive.
It's not that easy, the ranger protested. Too many things were said between Golsway and me. Some of them I now realize I had no place to say.
And some of them Fannt Golsway had no place to say, Xuxa said gently. I am sure he realizes that by now as well. You are not the only one who can see the error of your ways.
Baylee looked deep into the azmyth bat's milk-white eyes. Golsway is a hard man. He's been my teacher. He can make no mistakes in his eyes.
He was much more than your teacher, and I think he's had time to realize that. Baylee, you would be better served to spend your time in Waterdeep repairing that relationship than in haring off after Jaeleen.
How did you know I was thinking about that?
Because being around that-that woman-locks up your thoughts. I expect you to be pining away after her for a tenday or more. I am looking forward to very depressing times, I'm afraid. I hate it when you mope.
You're no walk in an elvenglen yourself.
Baylee, why do you think Jaeleen left without saying good-bye?
She didn't want me to try to convince her to spend a longer time with me.
Xuxa chirped in frustration. That's only half the truth. The other part is that she has feelings for you and she knows she will never be the woman you need in your life.
What kind of feelings?
Xuxa spread her wings and shook them. Listen to all that I say, not half of it. As much as I find to dislike about that female, I sense that in her own strange way she loves you and would spare you the trouble that she would undoubtedly bring.
Baylee couldn't help but think that somehow sounded romantic.
Ill-fated lovers was a theme that played to most audiences, and all the legends and histories he'd ever read had been full of such stories.
You can't change her, Xuxa said, and I fear a bad end for her.
She can take care of herself. Baylee turned cautiously in the hammock and stared off into the darkened forest. To the east, the sun was starting to taint the sky a rosy gray. It would be so easy to trail her through the forest. She was good at her woodcraft, but he was better. He could find her before noon.
But he knew he wouldn't. In a few minutes more, he fell back asleep. There was no hurry.
Tirdan Closl surveyed the wreckage inside Fannt Golsway's study, seeking to understand everything that had happened inside the house. He was a tall man, and broad, slower now in his mid-fifties than he had been as a younger man. His dark hair and beard were well kept by his wife, but he had a habit of pulling at it while he thought.
The carnage inside the home gave him plenty to think about.
"Sir," a young guard said behind him.
Closl turned. He was a senior civilar of the watch in Water-deep, his leather armor strengthened with chain bearing the green, black, and gold that marked his station. He fisted the pommel of his short sword as he regarded the junior officer. "Yes, Daike?"
"I located the cook, sir." Daike looked around the room with wide eyes.
Closl didn't blame the boy. Despite all the fights and bar brawls that happened in Waterdeep that the watch took care of, nothing could prepare a man for the sight of his first wizard's battle. "Where is she?" the senior civilar asked in a gentle voice.
"Outside, sir. Her name is Qhyst. She asked that she not have to come in."
"Of course." Closl took another look at the ruined corpse of Fannt Golsway. The old mage was a crumpled shell of himself, lightning blasted so that his flesh had lost all its color, yet charred in places where the magicks trapped inside him had vented themselves. The early morning sunlight only made the horrific death seem even more evil. The watch senior civilar had been born a farm lad, brought to Waterdeep for a time to sail with the trading ships and see bits and pieces of the world, and had been with the watch for his last twelve years. He had seen such sights before, but not often.
Two men worked on Golsway's corpse. One was Hazra, a watch member trained as a physician. The other was Mintrivn, who was wise in the ways of magic. Both of them were there to determine exactly how Golsway had died. If possible.
"Daike," Closl said.
"Sir." The young man whipped his attention toward the senior civilar and straightened his carriage. Closl ran a tight shift.
"Help Oryan question the neighbors. She will need every man she can get to do it all properly."
Daike snapped a salute and led the way out of the room.
Closl sighed heavily and followed the younger man out. With a murder like this, all the weak members of the watch would be culled by the end of the week. Especially when Piergeiron, Warden of the Guard, Commander of the Watch, Overmaster of the Guilds, and Open Lord of Waterdeep announced that they were intent on bringing the person or persons responsible to justice.
He stepped into the hallway and found the cook. Surprisingly, besides the drawing room below and the study on the top floor of the house, little damage had been done. Whoever had done the killing had known exactly what they wanted and took no chances about getting it.
"Dame Qhyst," he said.
The cook turned to face him. She was a short woman, surprisingly comely for one who chose to work out of sight of most people in a wizard's home. Her dress was homespun, a pale green that set off her dark good looks. Her hands were weathered and red, the hands of a farmer's wife.
She curtsied, bowing her head. "Milord."
"No, Dame Qhyst, senior civilar will do nicely. Or Closl, if you feel so inclined. I am a working man, no lord." He bowed and gave her a smile, thinking of his mother when she'd been much younger.
"Senior civilar," she agreed. "You understand what has happened?"
"Yes. Are you sure that Fannt Golsway is dead?" Tears glittered unshed in her eyes.
"There can be no mistake, dame. Two of his neighbors have identified his body just this morning."
She raised a hand to her mouth. "Who would do such a terrible thing? He was such a good man."
"I don't know," Closl said. "All that I am sure of is that Lord Piergeiron is going to want answers when I see him later this morning. He takes the protection of this city very seriously." "I am well aware of Lord Piergeiron's interest in this city." Standing in the hallway, Closl was aware of the smell of burned flesh coming from the study. "Walk with me, dame." The woman fell into step beside him.
Closl lead the way down the curving steps to the lowest floor, then out beside the house where a small garden contained a number of vegetables, grape vines, and flowers. A stone wal
l ringed the patch of land, and Mintrivn had confirmed that it had wards of protection placed on it. Care had been taken in the placement of the small stone benches in the garden. He took a deep breath, clearing the smell of death from his nostrils. "Is this your garden, dame?" he asked.
She looked around, her cheeks wet with tears now. "No. It was the master's. He put it in, saying it was for me, but he spent hours out here when no one was looking. It was a habit of his since he'd quit traveling quite so much."
"Please sit." Closl waved to one of the benches across from an alabaster fountain with birds cut from sapphires sitting on the edge. The water trickled noisily from an artesian well that tapped an underground source, but the sound was soothing. "Thank you."
"I am told you had the night off last night" "Yes, sir. It was my routine to set the master's table for him, then go home myself. I have three children, you see. The master was very generous with his time."
"I understand that. I am also told that you were paid even for those days that Golsway was not at home."
The woman nodded. "As I said, Senior Civilar Closl, the master was a very generous man."
Closl almost smiled. In most circles, Golsway had been known as a very hard and demanding man. His research, when presented, was flawless. His lessons, when executed, were poetry.
“Tell me about last night," the senior civilar suggested. "You prepared the eveningfeast before you left. What time did you leave?"
"Just after moonrise," she answered.
"I'm told that was later than usual."
"Yes." She nodded. "I prepared my own eveningfeast for my children earlier, then came back to prepare the master's. He was entertaining, you see."
"I understand that was a rare occasion."
"True."
"Who was he entertaining?" Closl asked. There was still the body in the drawing room burned beyond recognition to be explained, though the senior civilar had some ideas.
"Thonsyl Keraqt, the merchant."
"Do you know what business he had with Golsway?"
"No. The master had his business, and I never pried into it."
Closl talked for a while longer, going over the evening until he was sure he had everything the woman knew. There were no clues, nothing to suggest who had killed the men. After only a little while longer, he released her from his questioning.
She was almost to the door leading back into the house when he called for her attention.
"What can you tell me about Baylee Arnvold, dame?" he asked.
"Only that he would never have anything to do with this," she replied without hesitation. "If that's what you're thinking."
"It's been brought to my attention that there was a falling out between them in the past year."
'Ten months ago," the woman replied, her eyes sparking fire.
"And I would like to know whose tongue has been wagging so loosely."
"I'm afraid I can't reveal that. Those who talk to me have my confidence."
"Then please take a message back to that person for me that they should respectfully find some other way to spend their time than passing on idle gossip."
"I'll consider that, should the information prove false or misleading."
"The falling out you refer to," the woman explained, "was nothing more than a boy growing to manhood, despite his father's best wishes."
Closl studied the woman. "I'd never heard that Baylee was the old mage's son."
"He wasn't, by blood," Dame Qhyst replied, "but in every other way that mattered, that was their relationship. Even the master didn't see it till months after Baylee had left this house. And a sad awakening it was, too, because by then the master had let too much time pass to be comfortable patching the rift between them himself. And Baylee, you can be sure, is on the prideful side himself. Youth can be such a detriment."
"How well do you know this young man?" Closl asked. "Well enough that you are asking me questions about him, Senior Civilar Closl. If you didn't trust my answers, you should not have asked."
Closl laid an apologetic hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Forgive me, Dame Qhyst, for I meant no offense. Of course you are right."
"If I can be of any further help, please let me know." She turned and nearly ran over the man standing suddenly and quietly in the doorway. "Oh, excuse me, Lord Piergeiron! I didn't know you were there!" She backed away hurriedly and curtsied very low.
Closl straightened his own stance, coming instantly to attention.
"My fault, dame," the Commander of the Watch of Waterdeep said. "I should have spoken up. Please continue on your way and know that no ill favor on my part has been garnered."
The woman curtsied again, excusing herself, and disappeared into the house.
Piergeiron Paladinson strode into the garden, looking striking in his watch armor and colors. He was tall and graceful, much as his father had been. He gazed about the garden, then looked at his senior civilar. "This is a right and proper muddle of affairs."
"Yes sir," Closl responded, feeling like the whole arrangement had suddenly gotten many times worse than he thought it was going to be if Piergeiron himself was going to get involved in the murder investigation.
"Do we have any ideas about who did this?"
"Someone quite capable in the field of spell-casting, or someone armed with a magical weapon of some force."
Piergeiron shook his head. "I knew that from the moment I found out it was Golsway who was killed. I knew that man as one of my teachers, as hard a taskmaster as a man would ever want to meet."
"There's not much else, sir," Closl said. "Golsway didn't have much in the way of friends."
There was always Keraqt," the warden said. "Though I never knew what Golsway liked about the old pirate."
"Sir, Keraqt was the other victim."
Piergeiron looked surprised. "Well, rest his soul in peace then. If not friends, what of enemies?"
"Someone who could do this?"
"You'll be working from a short list, then."
Closl knew he wasn't being let off the hook. The people you're suggesting, sir, well, we'll be trampling on some blue blood toes to get the answers we're looking for."
"I know, and you'll ask those questions on my order. If there are any who give you trouble, tell them I'll free up my schedule to question them myself. I will have the answers for this." Piergeiron looked out over the city. "Waterdeep stays with constant rumors and outright lies crossing her from one end to the other every day. I'll not have this help feed the grist for that if I can help it."
Closl said nothing, but he knew even the answers they found would only create more half-truths in their wake. "Yes sir. If I may, I'd like to suggest another route in this investigation."
Piergeiron looked at his senior civilar.
"Baylee Arnvold," Closl said. "I would send a watch team to find him."
"Would you know where to look? He's been gone from this city for months."
"I think I might. Baylee is a ranger. I've a nephew who is a ranger. Young Varin has regaled us from time to time with tales of for gatherings. Festivals of a sort where rangers meet to discuss their trade and sharpen their skills. In a few days hence, the Glass Eye Concourse, one of the biggest of such meetings, is going to be held. It's possible that Baylee will be there, or at least someone who knows him."
"You want to send a watch team from Waterdeep there?"
"With your permission."
Piergeiron stroked his chin as he considered the option. After a moment, he nodded. "Make it so, senior civilar. Whatever aid you need from me, consider it done."
"Thank you, sir."
"And let me know what your people turn up."
"Of course. You'll be the next man to know after me." Closl watched as the lord walked away, deep in thought. The watch senior civilar sighed heavily, looking back at the house. He knew what Piergeiron's deepest fear was even though the noble had not spoke of it: that Golsway's death really was part of one of the many plots that bega
n every day in Waterdeep instead of a separate act.
The senior civilar shook his head, imagining the power that had run rampant inside the house. And as skilled as the murderer or murderers were, he feared for any man that tried to take them in for the crime.
7
Krystarn Fellhammer stared angrily into the darkness that stretched ahead of her. The underground passage twisted and turned and fell away down into the earth. The smell of decay filled the thick air around her. She kept her morning star in her fist. The battle with Fannt Golsway had left her more drained than she would have liked to admit.
She peered down over the crest of the hill she stepped out onto. She thought she knew where she was, but the chain of caverns was huge. If she was at the location she thought, she had more than an hour's walk ahead of her. The teleport spell on the gem she'd been given had not worked as completely as she'd been told it would, or Shallowsoul had deliberately lied to her about where she would return in the subterranean lairs.
Having been raised in Menzoberranzan for the first forty-three years of her life, where a dozen acts of treachery could be committed before morningfeast-sometimes within her own family- being lied to came as no surprise. It only meant that even with the recent turn of events she hadn't maneuvered herself into the bargaining position she'd planned to with Shallowsoul.
The complete lack of light in the caverns didn't bother her either. The lights back at Golsway's home had hurt her eyes. Drow vision was capable of seeing the heat of a living body, or even the subtle changes in temperature from rock to wall to rodent. She navigated the path through the broken rock with ease. Mice and rats scurried before her, finally packing together enough that they dared try to rush her and bring her down.
She read their predatory thoughts easily, then twisted the silver band on her left ring finger and said the activation phrase. The spell filled her and she directed it at the gathering of rats.
The wall of telekinetic force slammed into the vermin, knocking their bodies back against the cavern wall. The ones that weren't killed outright died when they struck the wall in a series of meaty smacks. Twisted, broken corpses littered the rocks and uneven terrain.
