So many people milled about the streets that passage by carriage was impossible. Danilo settled with the halfling driver and led the way through the crowd toward an elegant, dark-timbered building.
A tilted hourglass decorated a carved and painted sign, and markings proclaimed it to be The Curious Past, using not one language but three: the trade language known as Common, beautifully rendered Elvish script, and the squat, emphatic figures of the dwarven runes. Behind the small-paned windows, each of which was etched with the same hourglass design, was a pleasing jumble of trinkets and treasures.
Arilyn liked Bronwyn at first glance. The Harper was of average height for a woman, nearly a head shorter than Arilyn. She wore neither the weapons nor the manner of a trained fighter, but there was no hint of weakness about her. She was compact and trim and was sensibly clad in tunic and breeches of a matching russet hue. Her large, chocolate-brown eyes were lively with intelligence, and her gaze managed to be both warm and direct. The small hand she offered Arilyn in response to Danilo's introduction was ornamented only by ink stains and calluses.
"A pleasure," Bronwyn said with genuine warmth. "Danilo has spoken of you."
"And of you, a scholar and adventurer," she repeated, seeing the truth of both.
The woman laughed. "Fine words! That's a sure sign that he wants something from me."
"Guilty," Danilo said with a grin. He quickly described the situation.
"I know of Elaith Craulnober," Bronwyn murmured. She turned a dry smile upon her friend. "Either you have a very high opinion of me or a very low one."
"Dealing with Elaith often requires the best of both philosophies," he admitted.
"Well, that's why you're here," Bronwyn said matter-of-factly. "As it turns out, I do have a legitimate errand to attend—or more accurately, an illegitimate one."
She went to a case and removed from it a waterfall of glittering, pale green stones, artfully woven into a necklace. "The stones are peridot, considered only semiprecious in the north but highly prized in Mulhorand and the lands of the Old Empires as gems fit for royalty. Lovely, aren't they?"
Arilyn shrugged. Jewelry was nice enough, but irrelevant.
"Good eye," Bronwyn congratulated her, misunderstanding her lack of enthusiasm. "There are exactly two genuine peridots in this lot. The rest are crystal. The gem merchant who hired me wants more of the same. If Elaith is nosing about among the crystal merchants, I'll have a reason to follow—or at least bump elbows."
"Splendid," Danilo agreed happily as he rose to leave.
"You've just got here," the merchant scolded him. "Perhaps Arilyn would like to see some of the elven pieces first?"
Danilo pantomimed a pained expression and reached pointedly for his coin bag. "Didn't I tell you she was good at her business?" he asked Arilyn.
"These are not for sale," Bronwyn said with brisk good humor as she led the way to a long, glass-covered
box. "I recovered these for the elves of the Pantheon Temple. To be honest, I'm hoping you can shed some light on them. I like to know the history of the pieces I collect. These appear to be personal possessions, but there is apparently some sort of sacred significance to them."
Arilyn's heart pounded as she studied the objects in the case. There was a small flute grown from green crystal, an emerald pendant, a leather bracer dyed green and tooled with beautiful, mystic designs. There was a small, stylized sculpture of Hannah Celanil, the elven goddess of beauty, rendered in green-veined marble.
"The color is significant, isn't it?" Bronwyn went on.
"Yes." Arilyn cleared her throat. "These are Midsummer gifts, given at festival time. They are personal, as you say. They are also sacred, but not in any manner that can be explained with talk of gods and temples."
"How fascinating! What can you tell me about this festival?"
"Nothing." Arilyn softened the refusal with a faint smile. "I am sorry, but there is no way to explain it. Some elven rites are not allowed to be revealed to humans, and even if they were, they would not be fully experienced or understood."
Bronwyn took no offense. She glanced over at Danilo, who was happily leafing through some old tomes at the far side of the shop. "Humans use the Weave," she said, naming the mystic force that shaped all magic, "but elves are part of it. They are also one with the land, and the sea, and the patterns of the sun and stars. This much I know, even though I could never experience it as you would. I have heard that the times of solstice and equinox are sacred to the elves. I know that such times were celebrated with fertility rituals by many ancient human cultures. I did not mean to offend you by implying that elven festivals were the same and nothing more."
"You understand more than I thought," Arilyn
responded. To her surprise, it was not only easy to speak of this, but comforting. "No offense was taken. Yes, these are times of revelry among the elves. Many marriages are made, friendships celebrated in intimate ways, but this is part of a larger, mystic connection—connection to all elves, and to the Weave of magic and the very circle of life."
"And only elves are accepted," the woman repeated. She smiled faintly. "To a limited degree, I understand. Perhaps Danilo has told you of my life. I spent most of it searching for my family, my past. This meant everything to me. I found my father and lost him all in the space of a few hours, but I came away from that experience feeling like a whole person for the first time in my life. I can't imagine what it would mean to a half-elf to be invited to take part in such a festival."
Arilyn met the woman's warm, sympathetic gaze. She took from the pocket of her breeches a small stone knife, sharp as steel and carved with a feather pattern. This she handed to Bronwyn. "Add this to the Temple's store. It is as precious as anything there."
The woman hesitated, demonstrating for the first time that her understanding was more human than elven. "You are sure you want to part with this?"
"Midsummer gifts are also part of the whole. The wheel turns, and they are often given anew with the coming of another summer."
Bronwyn nodded her thanks. Arilyn handed her the stone knife, a gift from Foxfire, the elf who had offered her the first true acceptance she had ever received from her mother's people—and who had changed her life. Without Foxfire, she would not have come to terms with her own divided nature or learned that though her soul was elven, her heart belonged to a human man.
A heavy thud drew her attention. She glanced over at Danilo. He stooped quickly to pick up the tome he had dropped, but not before Arilyn saw his gaze dart from
the knife in her hand to the green treasures in Bronwyn's case. Not before stunned comprehension flooded his face.
Bronwyn glanced from Danilo back to Arilyn, and her brown eyes widened with chagrin. "He didn't know." "No."
In truth, Arilyn had never seen need to speak of that Midsummer night. The initial joy of her reunion with Danilo had swept aside all other considerations. Shortly after, she had been called back to the forests to aid the embattled elves. There had been little in her life since then to bring to mind the sacred revels of Midsummer.
Now she tried to see the matter as Danilo might. Few humans could understand the true nature of elven festivals. They would see her participation as a shallow indulgence. Danilo, though, knew more of the elves than did most men, and he valued highly what he knew.
That could be more of a problem than a blessing. Just last night, he had been ready to give her up rather than separate her from the magic of her elven sword. Arilyn was not sure how he would respond to the knowledge that she had known an elven love.
"It'll be fine," Bronwyn said with quiet urgency. "Danilo has reason to know that lovers can become friends, content to leave the past as it was."
Arilyn looked at her with sudden comprehension. She felt no jealousy over this revelation. Even if she were so inclined, that emotion would have been an unworthy response to Bronwyn's obviously well-meaning concern. "Why do you tell me this?"
"For his own good," the woma
n said as she took Arilyn's hand in a sisterly clasp. "Use it if you have to. Just don't let him do anything noble and foolish."
The half-elf gave her new friend a small, wry smile. "Apparently you know that that's more easily said than done."
"What of it? Men are not put here to make our lives easy," Bronwyn announced. "They're just put here."
Despite the situation, this amused the half-elf. "Any more words of advice?"
"Yes." Bronwyn nodded toward Danilo, who was staring fixedly at the far wall and absently stirring through a tray of fragile coral jewelry. "Get him out of here before he breaks something."
The hum and bustle of the streets enveloped Danilo and Arilyn as they left The Curious Past behind. Bronwyn's shop was not far from the market, a vast, open-air bazaar that dominated the northern end of Waterdeep's Castle Ward.
They walked in silence, weaving their way through the crowds. Usually Danilo took great pleasure in the sights and sounds of the colorful district, but today he felt as if he were walking through an illusion. His senses noted the ringing, musical cries of the street vendors, the salty warm scent of the pretzels draped over the T-shaped crook carried by a young man with a much-freckled countenance and a jaunty purple cap. He heard the loudly whispered boasts of the two small lads who leaned out from a second story window and attempted with twine and wooden hooks to snare some of the pretzels.
He led the way through the maze of shops with the surety of long experience. Over the years, Danilo had spent a great deal of time in the market. Almost everything a wealthy man could desire flowed to this place.
Merchants from up and down the Sword Coast brought wares from every corner of Faerun and from the exotic lands beyond. Craftsmen from the Trades Ward rumbled north with their wagons loaded with simple, necessary goods: barrels, tack and saddles for riding horses, iron utensils for tending fires and stirring pots. Blacksmiths, coopers, brewers, cobblers—all plied their wares in the market alongside the silks and gems of distant lands. Fragrant smoke rose with the sun as vendors and tavern keepers stoked fires in anticipation of the midday meal.
The only thing lacking, and the only thing Danilo required at present, was privacy. The answers he wished to know would be hard enough to hear under any circumstances. He could hardly shout delicate questions over the bustle of morning commerce.
He turned up Bazaar Street toward the quieter residential area. Arilyn fell into step without argument. The crowd thinned as they moved west from the market, and before long they strode the broad, cobbled walks along Suldoun Street.
The townhouse he called home was tall, narrow, and elegant. It was tucked neatly alongside other, similar homes, most of them owned by young members of the merchant nobility. The front was finished stone, the peaked and gabled roof tiled with multicolored slate. Tall windows of many small panes, some of them colored glass, flanked the door. Decorative iron gates enclosed the small front courtyard and led into the narrow walkways on either side of the building and the garden courtyard beyond.
The tinkling song of the bellflowers drifted out to the street. Danilo's hand paused on the latch of one gate. He had intended to lead the way into the garden, which he'd spent nearly four years designing and perfecting. The elven garden was remarkable, boasting flowers that chimed with the passing of sea breezes, blue roses
entwining elaborate arches. Reproductions of a pair of elven statues—the originals he had donated to the Pantheon Temple—stood in hauntingly beautiful repose beside the still waters of a small reflecting pond. It was an astonishing accomplishment and the pride of his elven gardener.
Suddenly, it seemed to Danilo to be nothing more than one of the pretentious excesses so common among his peers. If it accomplished anything at all, it would be to remind Arilyn of how broad a gap remained between him and the elven people she served.
He opened the stout oak door and tossed his hat to the waiting steward. The halfling sent his master a cautious, sidelong glance, and then walked off without offering their guest the usual refreshments.
To the left was Danilo's study, a lavish room paneled with dark Chultan teak and softened by carpets and tapestries in rich shades of crimson and cream. Magic warded the room from prying eyes and ears, ensuring complete privacy.
Arilyn followed him in and took a chair near the hearth. She settled in and turned a steady gaze upon him. "Let's get this over with."
Typically direct, but hardly the most promising beginning. Danilo paced over to the mantle and picked up a small, elven sculpture, which he studied without interest as he collected his thoughts.
"Four years ago, before we parted in Zazesspur, I spoke my heart," he began. "There was no time for you to say yes or no. We were forced into separate paths: I to the High Forest and a madwoman's challenge to the Northland's bards, you to the Forest of Tethyr. When these tasks were completed, I spoke again, and you were of like mind. However, things had changed. I saw that. I did not understand how profound these changes were."
"That's apparent."
This was not the response he'd anticipated. He put down the statue and turned to face her. "Then please enlighten me."
The half-elf folded her arms and stretched her booted feet out before her. "Let's start here. Have I ever asked how you spent each of your days and nights, these past few years?"
"No, but that is different," he said firmly.
She lifted one ebony brow. "Oh? How so?"
"For one thing, the foolish games played in this city are without meaning."
"That's a good thing?"
He regarded her with faint exasperation. "Ever the sword mistress. You cannot yield the offensive for a moment, can you?"
Arilyn considered this, then gave a nod of concession. "I'll speak plainly, then. I knew what was in your heart when we parted, that's true, but I did not know my own. Until I forged a place for myself, I could not answer you yes or no. Now I have found that place."
"Among the elves."
"It was a needed thing. For most of my life, I lived and worked among humans." She touched the sheathed moonblade. "This was my only elven heritage. I always sensed that this weapon defined who I was, but I knew almost nothing about it. Everything that transpired that first summer we spent apart was part of the journey. To understand the moonblade, I had to become fully elven—if only for a short time. My time among the forest elves, including the midsummer revels, was a part of this. Without it, I would not have had the understanding of myself to know my heart."
Danilo could not refute the logic of this, but neither was it something he could easily accept. For a long moment he gazed out the study window, absently noting that the leaves were starting to take on the hues of autumn. He tried and discarded a dozen responses. The
words that eventually emerged, however, were utterly unplanned.
"I suppose it would be ungentlemanly to ask for a name."
"Foxfire," she said without hesitation. "He was the war leader of the western clan. He was, and remains, a true friend."
That was hard to hear, and full of possibilities he hardly dared to explore. "You have returned to the forest more than once," he said tentatively.
"That's right. I have responsibilities."
A painful thought occurred to him. "Is there a child?"
Her eyes turned dark with surprise and outrage. "Do you think I would forget to mention such a thing? Or perhaps you envision me slinking at midnight into a home for unwed mercenaries?"
Had he been in a brighter frame of mind, he would have found that incongruous image amusing. "True enough. Accept my apologies—this revelation has left me somewhat distraught." He considered that, then added with a faint, pained smile, "That might well be the most masterful understatement I have ever contrived."
"Let's discuss that." The half-elf rose and faced him down. "I have lived forty years and more, hard years, for the most part. Did you expect to find me an untried maiden?"
"Well . . . "
"I see. And should I assume from thi
s that you have followed a paladin's code?"
"Hardly." He sighed, struggling to explain what certainly did seem to be a code written on both sides of the parchment. "It would have been easier for me to shrug aside a score of lovers, had they been human."
She threw up her hands. "That's ridiculous!"
"Is it? When you left for the forest, you and I were bound in a form of elven rapport through the magic of
your sword. When you returned, you swore your heart was mine. Yet your first allegiance was to the forest elves, and you kept from me this secret. What am I to think?"
Exasperation edged onto her face. "Would it have helped if I had spoken of this at once?"
"Probably not," he admitted. He hesitated for a moment as he sifted through the jumble of his emotions. "Forgive me. I desired change, and over the past two days the fates seem hell-bent on granting this wish. I just learned that there is elven blood in my family, courtesy of our dear archmage. This was no small revelation and means more to me than I can begin to express, but as I consider these new developments, I fear that the wine is too well watered."
Comprehension edged into her eyes, then disbelief. "Do I hear you correctly? You fear comparison with an elf?"
"That is putting it rather baldly," he said, wincing a bit at how foolish that made him sound. "Let me try to do a little better. I know how elves regard the half-elven. I have known you for more than six years and have seen how this pained you. In one part of my heart, I am truly happy that you have found the acceptance and community that you sought among the elven folk, but like most lovers, I have a certain selfish interest in this."
He sighed. "Therein lies the dilemma. Knowing you as I do, I wonder if you can be truly happy with a human man."
Arilyn was long in answering. She rose and began to prowl about the room, as if action was required to spur thought. "Happiness," she said slowly. "I have heard many people speak this word, and never once did I understand what they meant. Nor did they, I suspect. Notions of endless peace and bliss and ease, or some such."
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