A war against the humans.
The door of the Breaching Whale tavern slammed open, sending shudders through the many-paned windows that fronted the dock. An elf woman burst into the taproom as if she'd been thrust through the door by the winds of a freak summer storm. She was uncommonly tall for an elf, white-skinned and raven-haired-a startling coloring common to the moon people. Vivid blue eyes flamed like wizard fire as she stalked across the suddenly silent room,
Sandusk Truffledigger, the halfling barkeep, watched warily as the elf woman descended upon him with the force of a funnel cloud.
"Where is Carreigh Macumail?" she demanded, punctuating her question by slamming both hands upon the polished wooden counter.
The halfling was gratified to note that her voice, a melodic alto despite her anger, was definitely that of a haff-elf-not as flat as a human's tones, but lacking the music and magic of an elven voice. Elves and human? both were trouble, but to Sandusk's way of thinking ai L elf-human hybrid was to be preferred over a pure-blooded version of either variety. Half-elves were treated well enough in Zazesspur, but they walked a thin rope and most of them knew it. The ever-increasing racial conflicts of Tethyr put half-elves in a tenuous position that prompted them to watch their manners and mind then-own affairs.
This one, however, seemed determined to be the exception. When the barkeep did not answer fast enough to suit her, the half-elf seized his tunic with both hands and pulled him up over the bar until they were eye-to-eye.
"I know and appreciate the Breached Whale's reputation for protecting its patrons, and I assure you I have no intention of harming Captain Macumail," she said softly. "You, however, are another matter entirely. Now talk."
"He's gone!" the barkeep squeaked. "He left!"
Arilyn gave him a sharp shake. "I know that. I also know that he routinely informs you of his next destination. Tell me, or 111 skewer you like a roasting rabbit!"
"But I'm a halfling," Suldusk protested in a piercing whine that carried to every corner of the tavern. He had long ago learned that those larger than he could easily be shamed, and like most halflings he doled out guilt with a lavish hand. "Fm but half your size!"
The half-elf smiled coldly. "So Til use a short sword,"
Suldusk considered the grim practicality of this solution. "He's not gone far," he said in tones more modulated toward discretion. "Mist-Walker raised anchor just this morning. Captain Macumail said something about hooking up with some pirate-hunters. Might be that you could still catch him."
Arilyn stared at the halfling for a moment; then she gave a curt nod and lowered him to the floor. She turned and strode from the tavern. Without pause, she went to the edge of the dock and dove cleanly into the water.
One of the bemused patrons shook his head and snorted. "By the wounds of Ilmater! What's the fool elf wench thinking of? Swimming out to Macumail's ship?"
The halfling heard in these words the voice of opportunity. He smoothed his tunic back into place and then topped off his customer's mug from a foaming pitcher. "My dear sir. that wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. And if you're a wagering man, I'll happily lay odds that she'll have him back here by sunrise."
Arilyn dove deep and began swimming steadily toward the west. As she did, she blessed Black Pearl, an old friend and a half sea elf, for the enchanted amulet of water breathing that allowed Arilyn to enter her world. The Harper was not fond of magic or magical devices, but she'd kept the talisman for many years in honor of her friend. Of late, she'd had need of it so often she'd gotten into the habit of wearing it.
As she swam, she kept a keen watch for threats from the many dangers in Zazesspur's coastal waters. Colonies of sahuagin abounded; there were even rumors that the creatures had managed to capture several ships, which they used to engage in piracy. These rumors were unconfirmed. Lost ships were not uncommon, but survivors of pirate attacks were rare, and so far none could establish the truth of the strange buccaneers. But Arilyn knew what she knew. Where there were sahuagin, there were also sea elves, and she had long been on better terms with the People who dwelt below the sea than those who walked beneath the stars. She probably knew more about the sea folk's affairs than did the insular elves of Tethyr's forest.
The Forest of Tethir was vast and ancient, stretching from its easternmost point in the foothills of the Snowflake Mountains to the Starspire Peninsula,almost to the very edge of the sea. But few elves lived on this swampy western arm of forest land, a part of Tethyr that had long since been abandoned to the humans and their clandestine activities. Poachers cut down the ancient trees for mast poles; pirates docked in fingerlike coves. Even the sahuagin had bases on the Starspire. So, therefore, did the elves. And not just the Sea People. Once the sea creatures had taken to ships, the elven nation of Evermeet had sent in vessels of its own to even the balance.
In a deep cove near the tip of the peninsula, shielded from discovery by jagged rocks both real and illusion-ary, was a small outpost of the elven navy, cloaked with concealing magic and commanded by moon-elven sailors from the royal fleet. Macumail had confided this to Arilyn a couple years back, right after he'd first been named elf-friend and allowed to make port on Evermeet. The captain had returned from the elven island overbrimming with stories of elven wonders and glowing like a moon in the reflected glory of Queen Amlaruil. Although Arilyn had little patience for his stories about the elven queen, she'd listened and learned what she could. Since Macumail could stay in Zazesspur for only so long without raising suspicions about his intentions, Arilyn guessed he was bound for the elven port. She did not doubt that he would stay close at hand until he had done Amlaruil's bidding.
Prom the corner of her left eye Arilyn glimpsed a femiliar shape in the dark water: an elven form, smaller than that of land-dwelling People, and almost invisible behind the writhing strands of seaweed he used as cover. If not for her infravision, Arilyn would not have seen him at all.
The elf was clearly part of a patrol. A tightly rolled net was tied to his belt, and he wore several sharp weapons and a wary expression. Arilyn had ho doubt that another elf, similarly armed, closed in on her from the right. *•
She raised both hands high and to her sides to show that they held no weapons. Then she slowly turned to fece the first elf. Using the hand gestures she'd learned from Black Pearl, she laboriously spelled out her need to find Macumail. Grudgingly she added that she was on an errand for Amlaruil of Evermeet.
The sea elf s eyes brightened with adoration at the mention of the elven queen, an expression Arilyn had seen far too often on the fece of Macumail, or for that matter anyone else who knew of Queen Amlaruil. Even Elaith Craulnober, a rogue moon elf of Arilyn's acquaintance who'd spent his many years away from Evermeet honing his reputation for battle prowess and cruelty, grew positively misty at the mention of the queen's name. The Harper gritted her teeth and focused her attention upon the sea elf's gesticulating, webbed fingers.
Macumail Elf-friend has spoken of you, Arilyn Moonflower. The People have been charged with watching for your approach, though we expected you to come by boat. He lifted one hand in the directional inflection that indicated humor.
Arilyn, however, was in no mood to be amused. *Moonflower" was the name of the royal family of Evermeet-her mother's name, and one that Arilyn had no thought of claiming for herself. A simple error, no doubt, but one that grated on her.
Moonblade, she corrected him, spelling out the word with emphatic deliberation, but the elf had already turned away and was gesturing excitedly to his partner, a female distinguished by her close-cropped green curls and the gleaming trident she carried. The two carried on a brief discussion, their fingers flashing with a speed Arilyn could not follow. Then the elves gestured that she should follow them.
The Harper sighed, sending a rift of bubbles floating upward, and then began to swim after the sea folk. Arilyn was a strong swimmer, but there was no possible
way she could keep pace with these elves. Time and again her escort forgot her li
mitations and left her behind, only to circle back.
Fortunately, Mist-Walker had not gone far into the bay. By moonrise the trio had the ship in sight. The sea elves bid farewell to their charge and disappeared into the black waters, leaving Arilyn to approach the human
vessel alone.
To Arilyn's surprise, the ship had dropped anchor. That was risky, for even so close to Zazesspur piracy was far from uncommon. She climbed the anchor's rope and quietly pulled herself over the side of the vessel. As she shook the water from her ears, she heard behind her the unmistakable hiss of steel sliding free of a scabbard.
Her own sword fairly leaped from its sheath. Moonblade held firmly in her two-handed grip, Arilyn whirled to face the challenger.
The swordsman was young-a son of one of the western Moonshae Isles, if his bright red hair and broad, blunt-nosed countenance spoke truth-and he was armed with a two-edged blade and matched dagger common to that area. Arilyn adjusted her grip slightly to prepare for the expected attack. Sure enough, the man feinted low, a common move that would no doubt be followed by a dagger feint and a sweeping overhead sword cut. There were many styles of swordplay among the humans of Faerun; Arilyn was acquainted with them all.
She parried his sword feint with a hard downward swing that forced the point of his blade to the deck. Before he could bring his dagger into play, she swept the moonblade up and to her right with a force that sent the smaller weapon spinning. At the same time, she stomped down hard on the man's down-turned blade, wrenching the sword from his hand. The whole exercise took perhaps ten seconds.
For a moment the youth merely stood ^there,
unarmed, too stunned by the pace of the battle to assimilate its results. Then understanding of his fate dawned in his eyes, and he drew breath to shout an alarm before he died.
Arilyn slammed the moonblade back into its sheath and plunged both of her hands into the young man's bright hair. She yanked him forward, drove her head hard into his forehead, then thrust him away as she pivoted hard to her left. Up came her right knee, slamming hard into his gut. As he folded with a soft "oof!" of surprise and pain, Arilyn changed directions and spun again, bringing her right forearm down hard on the back of his neck. Down he went-senseless, but with no lasting damage.
"A shame," observed a deep, faintly amused voice behind her. "And me having such high hopes for the lad. He hasn't his father's luck with the ladies, that's for sure and certain."
Arilyn spun and looked up into the bewhiskered face of the captain. "Oh, no. Not your son?"
"Maiden voyage," agreed Macumail with a wry grin, "and you should pardon the expression. Don't look so worried. The lad is well enough, though hell have Umberlee's own tempest raging in his head come morning. Let him sleep it off, while we speak of other matters. My cabin?"
Arilyn nodded and allowed the captain to lead her into an usually large and luxurious cabin furnished with an enormous bed sufficient to Macumail's size and girth, a brass-bound chest, a small writing table, and a pair of chairs. As Arilyn took a seat, she was suddenly conscious of the puddle her dripping clothes left on Macumail's Turmish carpet.
"Drink this. It'll help stave off the chill," the captain said cheerfully as he handed her a goblet of wine.
She accepted it and sipped, then placed the goblet on the sea chest. "I've reconsidered your offer."
"I was hoping you might," he said with equal candor and then grinned. "You charmed word of my where • abouts from our little Mend Suldusk, I take it?"
Arilyn shrugged away his teasing. Her methods had been abrupt, even by her standards, but the stakes in her quest were too high, and too personal, to allow room for regrets or time for diplomacy.
"Would you carry my answer-and my terms-to Amlaruil of Evermeet? And can you duplicate her commission? I'm in a hurry, but 111 need as good a forgery as you can manage."
"No need for that," Macumail said. He took a sheet of parchment from the pile on his writing table and handed it to her. Arilyn scanned the Elvish script; it seemed to be a duplicate of the document she had destroyed.
The genuine article," the captain avowed. "Lady Laeral insisted that I carry a spare copy or two. And as for terms, the queen has authorized me to promise, on her behalf, any payment you might request."
"Such wisdom and foresight," Arilyn murmured dryly, still studying the parchment in her hands. Tin seldom paid with blank promissory notes, though the benefits of time saved should be apparent to all."
When she was satisfied that the elven queen's offer was genuine and that all was in order, Arilyn put the parchment on the table and lifted her eyes to her host. "Can you take me back to Zazesspur? At once?"
In response, Macumail rose from his chair and tugged at the bellpull hanging against one polished wall. "My dear lady, I am entirely at your service. You know, of course, that the docks are chained off until dawn."
"Dawn's good," Arilyn agreed.
There is a cabin next to mine. It is empty this voyage, and you are more than welcome to rest there. You might find some dry garments in the large sea chest that will do until morning. If you need anything else, you've only to ask."
Arilyn's face relaxed into a grateful smile, one that transformed her face and brought an answering-and familiar-spark to the captain's blue eyes.
The half-elf suppressed a sigh. Perhaps the captain was acting at the behest of the elven queen, but by all reports his fondness for elf women did not begin and end with Amlaruil. It did not surprise Arilyn to hear that the guest cabin boasted a feminine wardrobe, and she did not doubt that she would find a number of garments that would fit her elven frame. Rumors suggested that the green elf druid was not the only elf woman who had found a place in Macumail's heart. Furthermore, the glint in his eyes suggested he would not be averse to adding a half-elf to his collection of fondly held memories. Not wishing to pursue this path, Arilyn thanked her host and rose to follow the cabin boy who came promptly to the ring of Macumail's bell.
The captain watched her go and waited until he heard the bolt of her cabin door slide shut. Then he seated himself at his writing table and took up the parchment Arilyn had left there. Slowly, laboriously, he read the Elvish script to the place where the queen's ambassador was named.
Macumail opened a small drawer beneath his table and took from it a tiny bottle of ink. It was of elven make, a rare deep-purple hue fashioned from a mixture of berries and flowers that grew only on Evermeet. Carefully he unstoppered the bottle and dipped a quill into the precious fluid. With painstaking care, he added a few tiny curves and lines to the Elvish script.
It was fortunate, Macumail thought as he sprinkled the parchment with drying powder, that the Elvish words for Moonblade and Moonflower were so similar in appearance.
The captain had heard from Laeral the tale of the elf-gate and the deep sorrow it had brought to Queen Amlaruil. Having witnessed the sadness in the queen's eyes and mourned it for love of her, Macumail was loath to do anything that might bring additional pain to the wondrous elven monarch.
Yet Macumail also held the half-elven fighter in high regard, and he understood the importance of the task before her. And he knew, as well as any human alive, the difficulty that would face Arilyn in the shadows of Tethir.
He himself had loved a woman of the forest, a green elf druid whose strange, fey ways had left him mystified much of the time. But from his elven love he had learned enough about the forest folk to suspect that the People of Tethir would reject a half-elven ambassador and perhaps even slay her. Passing as a full-blooded elf was never easy for the half-elven, not even for one as resourceful as Arilyn. Macumail had therefore devised a strategy that might help her do just that.
Elven naming customs were endlessly complicated. Although it was not unusual for an elf to take on a surname that spoke of a particular skill or weapon- names such as Snowrunner or Oakstaff or Ashenbow- these descriptive titles were for common use: a name to use during travels, or to give acquaintances or outsiders, especially d
warves and humans. Among themselves, however, elves considered the giving of a family name and the recitation of lineage to be a vital step in formal exchanges. For Arilyn to identify herself to an elven tribe by only the sword she carried would be an egregious breach of protocol. It would almost certainly shout that her claim as Evermeet's ambassador was spurious. In her case this was particularly true, for moonblades were known to be hereditary swords, and a refusal to identify herself by family would be regarded by the elves as a blatant, arrogant admission that she was not what she claimed to be. And that, Macumail noted wryly, would go over in elven society about as well as an ogrish daughter-in-law.
With this in mind, the captain had decided to give Arilyn a family name and an ancient lineage-all with a few small strokes of a quill pen. His opinion that these honors were truly hers to claim eased his mind some-what. Nor did he doubt that the borrowed glamour of the royal family would drape a protective mantle over the half-elven woman and silence many questions before they were spoken. And after all, it was well known that of all the races of elves, moon people were most like humans!
The elves of Tethir's forest were insular, but they knew that no half-elves were allowed on Evermeet, and it would not occur to them that a half-elf would be permitted to carry the name of the royal family. A missive from AmlanuTs own hand, claiming Arilyn as her descendant, would settle the matter. It was not a ploy that would enter the proud half-elfs mind, nor would she agree to it if the captain explained his intentions.
To Macumail's way of thinking, they were much akin, the elven queen and the not-quite-elven swordmistress.
"Forgive me, my ladies," he murmured as he rolled the parchment and slipped it into a tube. "And may the gods grant that broad and stormy seas lie between me and either one of you when you learn what I’ve done!"
True to his word, Captain Macumail had Arilyn back in Zazesspur before sunrise. Her last day in the Tethyrian city flew by, for there was still much to do before she left for the forest. Arrangements long in the making had to be confirmed, messages sent, materials gathered.
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