"I can imagine,' the elf murmured, making a note to find out the identity of this lady. "Was that the extent of your loss?"
The mage hesitated. Indecision waged battle on his face, then gave way before the potent persuasion of greed and elven wine. "There was more. Dreamspheres,
at least a score of them."
"Dreamspheres," Elaith repeated.
"Small crystal orbs," Oth explained. "They hold magic. A single illusion, which is experienced as a vivid dream in which the dreamer places himself."
Elaith had heard rumors of the things for quite some time now They were becoming quite popular among the city's servants and mercenaries. The tale Arilyn told had raised enormous possibilities in Elaith's mind and convinced him to track these new magical toys to their source.
"An ingenious notion. I imagine many in this city would pay a small fortune for such a thing."
"Would and do," Oth boasted. He leaned toward the elf. "You offered to help. Find them. Return them. I'll make it worth your while."
Elaith tamped down a surge of elation. This was more of a concession than he had expected from the mage. Perhaps he could do better still. He tilted his head to one side as if considering. "I could do that, of course."
Apparently Oth was not entirely overcome by elven wine. His sharp-featured face became wary. "But?"
The elf smiled apologetically. "I am in business. When confronted with the potential for great profit, should I be content with a simple reward? No matter how generous that might be," he added in a conciliatory tone.
Oth considered the matter, and a sly smile stole across his face. "I have heard of your business affairs. You are not overly hampered by respect for law."
"Laws are admirable things and are often quite convenient. Just as often, they are not."
"Quite." Oth suddenly made up his mind. "You find the Dreamspheres. I will supply you with others. You will find channels through which these might be sold— channels so convoluted that the sales could not be traced back to me. This can be done?"
"You would be surprised how much business is transacted in this city in just such a fashion," Elaith said, speaking for the first time with complete candor.
"Settled, then," the mage said. The decision made, he abandoned his struggle against the compelling lullaby the elven wine was singing in his veins. He rose unsteadily and looked about the tavern, his face wearing the expression of puzzled concentration as he tried to remember what he sought.
Elaith gestured to the serving girl. "Summon a carriage for Lord Eltorchul," he bade, "and pour him into it," he added in a voice too low for the human to hear.
She nodded and slipped an arm around the mage's waist. "This way, my lord," she said, leading him to the front door and the waiting carriage.
The elf rose and slipped out the back door. He circled around to the back of the building and ran his hands over the smooth stone of the wall. A hidden door swung open. As he suspected, the cobwebs that should have festooned it hung in ragged shreds. Some enterprising thief had discovered the door and used it to good effect.
That made his task all the easier. Anyone skilled enough to find this back way into the building would also be adept at moving the stolen goods. Coins, gems, and magical items. There were perhaps four fences in Waterdeep who could handle them all with moderate risk and at a good profit. Elaith would have the Dreamspheres in hand before the day was out.
He would not return them to Oth Eltorchul. Nor would he see them sold as yet another mindless amusement in this city full of humans who believed that dreams could be purchased rather than earned.
He wondered if any of the fools, Oth Eltorchul included, understood the true price of these fleeting dreams. Unless he missed his guess, Oth Eltorchul had no idea what sort of tiger he held by the tail. Unless Elaith was very, very wrong, the Dreamspheres could be
the most valuable and the most dangerous magical items he had sought in his long and infamous career.
More important was the promise that he might hold in his hands the elven artifact that he suspected was behind their magic. He would test himself against the power of the elf gem and in doing so would answer once and forever the question that had haunted him for more than a century. He would know for a certainty whether the remnants of his elven honor were a wishful illusion or if he was a creature given over wholly to evil. Either way, the elven gem would light the path to greatness.
"Now there is a dream," he murmured with dark irony, "that is well worth pursuing."
* * * * *
Arilyn welcomed the rising sun as a marker that the worst night of her life was finally at an end. She was not by nature an introspective person, but since leaving the Thann villa she had wrestled her way to several important conclusions. Now all that remained was to persuade Danilo to her way of thinking.
His townhouse was a long walk from the lodge where Arilyn stayed, but it was a pleasant walk. The air was thick with the scent of breakfast fires and the clatter of carts hauling goods to the market. Most of the city's folk were abed when the Gemstone Ball had scarce begun, and half their day's work would be finished before the revelers emerged to face the day.
Arilyn could not help but note that this was yet another difference between her and Danilo. He was accustomed to the patterns of city life, while she spent much time on the road and was attuned to the sun and stars. It was no small consideration, but at this moment it and all other matters seemed insignificant.
She cut up the street behind Danilo's townhouse and climbed the stone fence. She dropped lightly into the
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enclosed garden and instinctively scanned the area for danger. Finding nothing to hamper her, she plucked a blue rose and crept toward the many-paned window of Danilo's favorite room.
As she had anticipated, he was in his private study. She hauled herself up over the window ledge and eased into the room.
"You were wrong," she said.
Danilo started, then sat staring as if she was an apparition. His eyes dropped to the moonblade at her hip. "Wrong?" he repeated.
"Don't sound so surprised. Surely it has happened before," she said in an attempt at lightness. Without waiting for a response, she let the rest of it rush out. "I am not saying that you are wrong about the sword. Its magic is ... complicated. It has been compromised before, and I won't claim that it couldn't happen again, but I do not accept that you are responsible."
He shook his head. "What if I am right? I won't let you take that risk."
"Let me? You can't keep me from taking it! I'm not finished," she said when Danilo began to interrupt. "Think back. If I'd had my way, we would have parted ways the first day we met. The first hour!"
His lips twitched with rueful amusement. "Yes, I seem to recall a certain lack of enthusiasm."
She began to pace. "Exactly. You, however, persisted, and we learned to work together. We became friends, which must have been like pushing a boulder uphill. Every step of the way I fought you. Always it has been you pushing, pursuing, getting me to go along by being funny or charming or just plain stubborn. Because of that, I suppose you think this all just stops when you say it does." She leveled a glare at him. "Well, it doesn't. Get used to it."
Danilo rose and walked over to her, stopping just a pace away. "You wish to remain together?"
She huffed and folded her arms. "Didn't I say just that?"
She waited for him to speak or to make some sort of move toward her. When he did not, she continued. "I don't know how we are to go about this. You were right in saying that I cannot give up the moonblade. That means I will be on the road more often than not. You offered to leave the city with me, but do you understand what that will mean? Some communities of forest elves might accept your presence. Most will not. Many times you would have to languish in small towns at woods' edge, while I go into the trees alone."
As she spoke, Danilo began to see the path her reasoning was taking. He could see the logic in it, but he did not like it at all. "So you believe
that we should proceed as we have these past four years. You pursue your duties, I follow mine, and we are together only for a few short days here and there."
"If there truly is a conflict between your magic and mine, that might be the best course." She hesitated. "There is another way."
"I am most eager to hear it."
Arilyn nodded, but glanced uneasily around the study. "Can we go to my room? I can't help wondering when that steward of yours is going to sail in with a tea cart."
Danilo extended his hand. Arilyn took it, and together they melted into the roar and rush of the silver-white pathway that he had laid between his sanctum and hers. The trip took but a moment, but Arilyn was relieved to feel the firm reassurance of wood planks beneath her boots. Danilo did not comment on her aversion for magical travel, but his eyes dropped to her clenched hand and the blue rose she had crushed.
Inspiration struck her, and she stepped over to her cot and let the fragrant petals fall onto the coverlet.
Danilo quickly averted his eyes from the bed and
cleared his throat. "You have my full attention."
"For many days now, since I set my course for Waterdeep, I have had no dreams, no summons from the Tel'Quessar. That could mean that all is well. It might also mean that the sword's magic was compromised before I reached the city, in which case it's unlikely that you are the cause. There is a third possibility. Perhaps there is a task for me here, in the city. If so, that will give us time to determine what is disrupting the moon-blade's magic and yours. No sense running from a foe you have not even named."
That brought a faint, rueful smile to Danilo's face. "When you put it that way, I sound like a coward and a fool."
"I've noticed that humans often err on the side of caution when dealing with the well being of those they love, but I am puzzled. You can accept that I make my way as a warrior, but not the possibility that my sword's magic might falter. I wonder what you trust: my skills or my sword."
He regarded her with bemused respect. "I had never considered the matter in that light. Your logic is remarkable."
She shrugged. "Problems are like enemies: you name them, track them down, and do whatever it takes to kill them."
Danilo threw back his head and laughed. As he did, the heavy burden of indecision lifted. Perhaps he could not yet see a way clear for them to be together, but Arilyn's forthright approach to the matter made him believe that one did indeed exist. "So what do we do now?"
"Assume that my task is in Waterdeep. As long as I tend the needs of the elven folk, I doubt that any but the most dire emergencies will summon me to the forest."
Hope began to dawn in Danilo's heart. He took her hand and led her over to the cot, and he kept her hand
in his as they sat together. "And if the forest elves have need of you, they will have to take me into the bargain. It is that simple."
"I wouldn't put it quite that way," she cautioned him.
"Where elves are concerned, nothing is ever simple." Danilo reached over and cupped her cheek in one
hand. "What dream worth having is easily gained?" "True, but—"
He stopped her argument by sliding his hand over her lips. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"
"That's rich, coming from you," she mumbled through his fingers.
She did not seem inclined to further conversation. Her eyes drifted shut as Danilo began to stroke her along her jawline with gentle fingers, then moved back up to trace the elegant points of her elven ears. Few humans understood the intimacy of this gesture. Years ago, in the first bright flush of young manhood, Danilo had been well schooled in such matters by an indulgent elven harp mistress.
Arilyn sent him a look of mock suspicion. "How do you know such things?"
"The benefit of a well-rounded education." He held up both hands, palms toward her.
Without hesitation, the half-elf placed her fingertips to his. Slowly their hands eased together until they were palm to palm. It was a simple contact but far more intimate than any kiss or embrace they had yet shared, For it was the beginning of the elven handfasting, a personal ritual as old as the seasons. Their eyes locked, ;heir hearts opened to each other, and the circle was begun.
"The summer is nearly past, the harvest moon beckons the night," she said in a soft, wondering voice, begin-ling the traditional words of the pledge they were about o make.
Danilo wondered if she realized that she was speaking in Elvish. It was an unconscious acceptance, one he was determined to honor as well as any human man might. By elven standards, their time together would be short. He would die when she was still young; did that mean that he was never to live? Perhaps nothing about elves was ever simple, but this one thing was plain: for him, to deny Arilyn was to deny life.
Their fingers linked, and he repeated the next words of the handfasting pledge. There were more words, accompanied by graceful movements that held the power of spellcasting and the subtlety of starlight. Danilo was not certain when their words melted into silence, and he did not care.
The elven patterns were exquisitely slow, torturously sweet. At some point, the ritual melded with a deeply personal, shared pattern of their own creation, one that was no less sacred for its newness.
Arilyn's patience with elven subtleties shattered before his. She pulled away and tore at her confining shirt with fierce abandon and utter disregard for the laces.
The sound of ripping linen startled her. Danilo burst out laughing at her befuddled expression, and after a surprised moment she joined in. Further bound together in the mirth only he seemed able to inspire in her, they sank down together to her cot, bathed in the mystic blue light of the moonblade's magic.
A moment passed before the implication of that fey light pierced their shared oblivion.
Arilyn sat up abruptly. "Damn!" she spat, glaring at the inconvenient sword.
Danilo let out a long, unsteady breath and nodded in heartfelt agreement. At least the moonblade's light was blue, not the faint green glow that warned of a dream to come and a forest journey to follow. That was some consolation. The danger of which it warned was close at
hand. Name it, track it down, kill it. That, he could deal with.
He reached for his sword belt and boots, trying to remember precisely how they managed to end up on the floor. Arilyn was quicker and was dressed and battle ready in moments.
Her eyes took on a distant expression as she drew the elven sword. "Tren," she murmured. "Here in the building."
In a moment she was gone, shouting a warning to the dwarven guard as she raced down the stairs. Danilo followed, drawing his sword as he clattered after her.
The curtain concealing the guard's alcove rustled. Four enormous claws punched through the fabric and sliced down, shredding the curtain. Out leaped a hideous reptilian creature, fully the height of a tall man and at least two stone heavier.
Danilo stopped, impressed despite himself. He'd heard that tren were like lizardmen, but that was true only as a dwarf could be said to resemble a human. Compact and powerful, the creature was thick with muscle and armored with leathery green hide. Spikes lined its backbone and jutted from behind each elbow joint. Long, powerful arms ended in hands so enormous that each clawed finger was fully the length of a human's hand. A long, livid cut traced the bony ridge above one eye.
"This time," the creature said, addressing Arilyn in a voice that sounded like rocks tumbling downhill, "we finish this."
"Watch the claws," Arilyn snapped back at Danilo.
"Watch the dwarf," Danilo riposted. He threw his weight against Arilyn and sent them both tumbling down the last few steps.
Just in time. As he suspected, the tren had already dispatched the dwarven guard. Even as Danilo spoke, the creature reached back into the alcove and hauled out two objects: a small shield and a disembodied
dwarven leg—still booted. The tren hurled the latter at the attacking humans.
The gory weapon whirled over them as they fell. It c
rashed into the stairs with enough force to splinter wood.
Arilyn rolled and came up on her feet. She came in hard and high, sword flashing with a quick, three-stroke attack. Her moonblade clattered against the wooden shield as the tren deftly parried each blow. The creature danced back a step, then leaned forward and swiped at her with one long arm. She dodged the blow and riposted with a quick thrust. The moonblade sank deep into the tren's forearm.
With astonishing speed, the creature pivoted on one massive foot, yanking its arm free of the sword—and pulling Arilyn along. Before she could get her feet back under her, the tren hit her with a brutal shield smash.
The slight half-elf went reeling back. Danilo stepped in, his hands empty but for a bit of bright green silk. He hurled the fabric square toward the creature. Snarling contemptuously, the tren swiped at the puny missile.
However, Danilo had already begun the spell. The silk caught in midair, just beyond the slashing claws, and began to spread into a thin globe, rapidly encircling the tren.
The creature backed toward the open door, thrashing about with shield and claws in an attempt to shred its prison. Glistening beads of black oil began to gleam along its fang-lined jowls. A hint of its foul scent-weapon seeped into the room just before the magic globe closed in.
Rank, swirling mist filled the globe, and the tren's struggles redoubled as it sought to escape the full force of its own stench. The creature quickly saw that it could not escape, and its yellow eyes darted from the young wizard to the angry half-elf. Arilyn stalked in, sword level and ready.
Changing tactics, the tren dropped its shield, spun away from its attackers, and fell forward onto its hands. This sudden motion tilted the globe forward. Running on all fours, the tren set the globe spinning toward the open door. The wooden lintel groaned and shuddered as the encased tren pounded through.
Danilo raced out into the street after it, with Arilyn close behind him. She quickly passed him as they wove through the morning crowds. Not that their passage was hampered overmuch—the tren's flight took care of that. Passersby ran screaming from the weird sight. Horses shied and reared, pawing the air and whinnying in terror. A cart overturned, spilling a load of cabbages onto the cobblestone. Danilo kicked one out of the way as he ran.
The Dream Spheres Page 9
