“Good thinking, Dan. I’ll be back in a moment.” Khelben Arunsun retraced his steps to the spellcasting chamber to make inquiries through his crystal.
Danilo removed a pair of gloves from his magic sack and listened intently for the sound of a door closing. He moved to the corner of the parlor. Arilyn’s moonblade still lay where she had hurled it. The young man hesitated for just a moment, then he willed himself to accept the pain and picked up the sheathed blade. As he expected, a current of magical energy shot up his arm, and the acrid smell of burned flesh filled the chamber. Danilo quickly dropped the moonblade into his magic sack and slipped the glove over his blackened hand. He sped through the gestures and chant of a spell that would create an illusion. When he was finished, the moonblade, to all appearances, still lay where Arilyn had abandoned it.
He turned to Bran Skorlsun and said quietly, “Arilyn needs the moonblade, and I plan to take it to her. If you speak of this, you are a dead man.”
A faint smile curved the Harper’s lips, and he laid a hand on Danilo’s shoulder. “Young man, I like the way you think.”
Khelben Arunsun wrinkled his nose in disgust when he entered the room again. “Merciful Mystra! It smells terrible in here.”
“Your cook is busily burning lentils, no doubt,” Danilo said. “Did you find out where Arilyn is headed?”
“Yes. The Halfway Inn, just outside of Evereska.”
That was precisely what Danilo had expected to hear. “Good. We’re on our way, then.” The nobleman and the Harper exited Blackstaff Tower with rather indelicate speed. Grinning like two schoolboys savoring a prank, the two men left the courtyard for the darkness of the street.
“Hello, Bran,” said a musical, faintly amused voice.
The Harper pulled up short. Standing in the shadow of a milliner’s shop was Elaith Craulnobur. The elf stepped into the light of the street lamp. “I was beginning to wonder whether the Blackstaff had invited you to take up residence in the tower. I see that his nephew is with you, so I assume Arilyn is nearby?”
Danilo’s eyes narrowed. He reached for his sword, but remembered that he’d given it to Arilyn. The moon elf laughed. “Your scabbard is as empty as your wit. Don’t worry, dear boy. You’ve nothing to fear from me.”
“Is that so? I thought you were going to have me killed.”
“Not a matter for concern.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” the nobleman retorted.
The elf’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “Would it comfort you to know that the attempt has already been made?”
“The House of Good Spirits,” Danilo said, suddenly understanding. His eyes narrowed. “So you knew all along who was behind the assassinations.”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have had to spend an obscene amount of money on bribes to the Zhentarim. They’re quite willing to betray their own, but the price of friendship is high,” Elaith said. He held up the documents he had shown to Arilyn two days earlier. “Where is Arilyn? I must speak with her about these.”
Danilo calmed himself. “Someone sent copies of those papers to Waterdeep Castle. I thought it might be you.”
“Good gods, no. It was Kymil Nimesin. He’s the one who originally sent the bill to the Zhentarim. Working both sides of the fence, he’s been amassing a tidy sum.” The moon elf shook his head, and a grim expression replaced his usual facade of gentle amusement. “I’d like to know what Kymil plans to do with those funds. He should be quite a wealthy elf by now, and he’s ending the scam by serving up Arilyn as the Harper Assassin.”
Danilo looked up at Bran, his expression worried. “That would be a convenient way for Kymil to explain Arilyn’s death, wouldn’t it? The noble armsmaster slays the half-elf assassin?” Bran merely nodded, never once taking his eyes off Elaith’s face.
“All the more reason for Arilyn to deal with Kymil at once,” the moon elf agreed. He handed the papers to Danilo. “Please give her these.”
The nobleman glanced at the papers. “I don’t understand.”
“It is always wise to have a contingency plan,” Elaith said. “With this letter, Arilyn can turn the Zhentarim against Kymil. An amusing end for the villain, wouldn’t you say?”
“Arilyn would not work with the Black Network!” Bran thundered.
“My dear Raven, do try to be practical for once.” Elaith took the itemized bill from Danilo’s hand. “There are a number of names on this list, people for whom the Zhentarim had no further use.”
“Yes? So?”
“So, just suppose there were more names on this list, including some individuals who are important to the Zhentarim leadership.”
Bran still looked outraged, but a tiny smile of comprehension tugged at Danilo’s lips. “I see. Pad the bill a bit?” asked the young nobleman.
“If you chose the right names, it could raise some hackles,” Elaith agreed mildly. “I’ve already looked into the matter. As usual, there have been several unexplained deaths in the network’s ranks of late. If an explanation were suddenly presented …”
“Very clever,” Danilo admitted, “but I doubt Arilyn would want the Zhentarim doing her work for her. Don’t give the matter another thought. She’d prefer to handle Kymil Nimesin herself.”
“You’re probably right.” Elaith inclined his head.
Bran observed the moon elf with suspicion. “This is hardly the behavior one expects from the famous Serpent.”
Elaith let out a ripple of cynical laughter. “Do not make the mistake of thinking me noble. I am not.”
“What do you want from Arilyn?” Bran demanded.
“Taking your fatherly duties a bit seriously, aren’t you?” the elf mocked. His smile faded abruptly, and his amber eyes suddenly seemed dull and empty. “Don’t concern yourself, Harper. I realize that Amnestria’s noble daughter is beyond my reach. If Arilyn were in truth the devious assassin I once thought her, it would be another matter.”
“Then why do you help her?” Bran asked, puzzled.
“Unlike the etriel, I have no compunction against letting others do my work for me.” Suddenly Elaith’s voice hardened, and his amber eyes met Danilo’s. “Kymil Nimesin has insulted me too many times. I want him dead. Unless I miss my guess, Arilyn is going to kill him. It is that simple. Though she and I may be very different, where Kymil Nimesin is concerned we both want the same thing.”
Danilo held the deadly elf’s gaze for a moment, then he nodded. “Revenge,” he said softly.
“We understand each other at last,” said the moon elf with a strange smile. He melted into the shadows and was gone.
“Merciful Mystra,” Danilo said softly. “Keeping Kymil Nimesin alive may prove to be more difficult than I thought.”
Nineteen
“By Mielikki, this is no way for a ranger to travel,” Bran Skorlsun grumbled, shaking his head free of the travel spell’s confusion. The Harper stamped his feet several times as if to assure himself that he once again stood on solid ground. The action was greeted by the crunch of fallen leaves. He and Danilo had teleported into a mist-shrouded forest. Night was deepening around them, and the nobleman pointed toward some lights flickering through the bare tree branches.
“The Halfway Inn is up ahead. Let’s go,” Danilo urged, crashing off through the fallen autumn leaves with an appalling lack of woodcraft. More skilled in such things, Bran followed him silently. Urgency quickened their pace.
In minutes Danilo and Bran arrived at a large clearing. Laid out before them was a complex of wooden buildings clustered around a large stone inn. Both elven and human merchants bustled about, busying themselves with the care of their animals, or bartering with other traders, or storing their goods for the night in one of several warehouses. Contented nickers wafted from the large stables, and the clinking of crockery could be heard through the windows of the tavern’s kitchen. The odors of the evening meal gave a pleasant warmth to the autumn air.
“The Halfway Inn was where I first met Arilyn. She left her
horse here, and even without Khelben’s inquiries to the Griffon Eyrie I was quite sure she’d return for it.”
“How far are we from Evereska?” Bran asked.
“Not far at all,” Danilo assured him. “We’re just to the west of the city. The ride takes an hour, maybe two. Let’s make sure that Arilyn’s horse is still here.”
The men slipped into the stable. Danilo had no trouble finding Arilyn’s gray mare. “Let’s go to the main tavern and find someone who’ll sell us some horses of our own,” the nobleman suggested.
“Fine.” Bran pulled the cowl of his cape over his head and followed Danilo toward the sprawling stone building. As the nobleman hung his lavishly embroidery cape on a cloakroom peg, the Harper peered into the large, crowded tavern. He laid a restraining hand on Danilo’s arm.
“Who is that elf behind the bar?”
Danilo looked. A small and solemn moon elf stood at one corner of the bar, bent over what appeared to be an account book. “Him? Myrin Silverspear. He owns the place.” Danilo answered. “Why do you ask?”
“I met him once before, many years ago, on my one and only trip to Evermeet,” Bran murmured. “Odd that a captain in the palace guard should become an innkeeper.” He turned to Danilo. “You go in alone. It’s unlikely that he would recognize me, but it’s best that I stay out of sight.” So saying, the ranger slipped out of the cloakroom and melted into the shadows of the night.
Danilo sauntered toward the bar. The proprietor looked up at his approach, regarding the nobleman with silver eyes that gave away nothing. “Lord Thann. Welcome back.”
“Thank you, Myrin. I would say it’s good to be back, but I’ve had a bit of bad luck. Ale, please.”
The elf produced a foaming mug, and Danilo settled down on a bar stool and took a couple of sips. “I just lost my horse in a game of chance,” he said. “I need to purchase two new mounts. Fast.”
“The horses or the transaction?” asked the proprietor without a touch of humor.
“Well, both, I suppose. I’d like to take care of it now, since I don’t bargain well after too many of these.” Danilo lifted his half-empty mug.
The elf studied Danilo in silence. “Several of my current guests can oblige you. I would be happy to make the introductions.”
Myrin Silverspear summoned a barmaid, a slip of a moon elf whose black hair and blue-tinted skin reminded Danilo of Arilyn’s. After a few words of instruction, the girl disappeared. She returned within moments with an Amnish merchant.
Danilo took one look at the merchant’s well-oiled smile and prepared to part with most of his ready cash. The man was obviously a horse trader in every sense of the term. As were most natives of Amn, the merchant was short, thick, and dark. He wore colorful clothing that was ill suited to the chill autumn winds of the north, as well as an impressive amount of gold jewelry and an equally flashy smile. The lust for gold shone in his eyes as plainly as his gold teeth lit his smile.
For the sake of saving time, Danilo made only a pretense of bartering, giving the delighted merchant nearly his asking price. He also accepted the man’s assurances that a merchant train would leave for Evereska in the morning. With such horses, the merchant fervently swore, the young lord could sleep away the effects of many mugs and still have time to catch the caravan.
After the merchant left the taproom for the horses, Danilo cocked at eyebrow at the elven proprietor. “Not to impugn the man’s integrity, but truly, is a merchant train leaving tomorrow?”
“Three caravans plan to leave in the morning. Several more will probably pass through during the day. If you wish to enter the city, you should have no problem persuading one of them to count you among their number,” the elf said, shrewdly responding to Danilo’s unasked question.
The nobleman nodded and rose to leave. “Good. Well, I might as well see what kind of horses I squandered my father’s money upon.”
The Amnish merchant had brought the horses to the tavern door, and Danilo was pleased to note that they were indeed fine animals, black and spirited, worth almost half of the amount he had paid for them. As he led his two new mounts toward the stables, Bran fell in behind him. They found an empty stall near Arilyn’s mare, and settled down in the hay to await the half-elf’s arrival.
* * * * *
Throughout the night and well into the next day, Arilyn’s enspelled griffon flew toward Evereska. By late afternoon, the half-elf saw beneath her the misty foothills of the Greycloak Hills. Her heart quickened at the thought of returning to her childhood home. As the hills grew into mountains, she watched eagerly for the verdant fields and deep, soft forests of the Vale of Evereska. The hands that clenched the reins of her griffon steed relaxed somewhat, and she nudged the magical creature into its descent. Enspelled for enhanced speed, the creature was capable of covering large distances. Even without the magic enhancement, it was an extraordinary beast with the strong, tawny body of a lion and the head and wings of a giant eagle.
Arilyn knew better than to try to fly directly into Evereska. The city was so well guarded that she would have little chance of surviving such a flight. Outposts dotted the mountains surrounding Evereska, and sharp-eyed elven watchmen would spot her within five miles of the city. If she should try to fly above the range of their vision, she would likely encounter the patrols of giant eagles who circled in the sides. The elven archers who rode these mounts were known never to miss a target.
So Arilyn steered the griffon clear of the walled city and the surrounding vale, instead swooping low over the western forest. She saw a familiar clearing, dominated by a large stone building and ringed with wooden structures and bustling merchants.
Since a griffon could not land in the middle of the busy merchant town without causing a stir, Arilyn urged her winged mount toward a nearby glen. The beast’s enormous wings curled in an arch like that of a giant hawk, and it descended to the earth in a tight spiral. The pads of its lion’s paws touched the ground, and with great relief Arilyn dismounted. With a final shriek, the griffon took off for Waterdeep, and Arilyn strode toward the stables of the Halfway Inn.
Her mare was there, sleek and well-conditioned. Arilyn patted the horse with genuine affection. She wished that she had time to seek out and thank Myrin Silverspear, but he would understand that she could not. Arilyn left a small bag of coins in a pre-arranged place in the stall as payment for the horse’s care.
The golden light of late afternoon lit the sky as she turned her horse toward the city. After the enspelled griffon, her fleet mare seemed to move far too slowly, and her progress was hampered by the seemingly endless merchant caravans that monopolized the tree-lined road. As she wove her way through the swarm of wagons and riders, she took no note of the two riders on Amnish stallions who followed her through the crowd, tracing her steps toward the elfgate.
* * * * *
An insistent flurry of coos erupted outside the window of Erlan Duirsar’s study. The elflord’s face betrayed his apprehension as he turned to an aid. “Let the messenger in,” he commanded sharply.
The young elf threw open the window sash to admit the messenger. Onto the window sill hopped a gray dove, which tilted its head as if politely requesting admittance. A small scroll was tied to one leg with a bit of silver ribbon.
“Lord Duirsar will see you,” the aid told the bird. The tiny messenger flew directly to the elven lord of the Greycloak Hills and perched expectantly before him.
A wave of trepidation swept through Erlan Duirsar. It had been some time since he had received a message from the western outpost. Myrin Silverspear was a proud elven warrior who preferred to take care of most problems himself. A matter had to be grave indeed before the “innkeeper” would pass it on to Evereska. Erlan untied the scroll. As he read it, his face grew troubled.
A polite chirp, the avian version of a cleared throat, drew Erlan’s attention back to the messenger. The bird awaited his reply, its tiny head cocked at an inquisitive angle.
“No, there will
be no response,” Erlan told it. “You may go.” The bird bowed its head and chirped an unmistakably respectful farewell, then it dissipated into a scattering of tiny lights.
“My lord?” questioned the aid.
“Summon the council immediately. Make it clear that we are to meet at once and in the utmost secrecy.”
“Yes, Lord Duirsar.” The urgency in the lord’s voice was not lost on the aid. He bowed and hurried to the silver globe that would send the silent summons. Each council member wore an earring that was magically attuned to provide transport directly to Lord Duirsar’s halls.
Erlan Duirsar gazed out the window to the courtyard below, a vast square ringed by buildings of enspelled pink crystal. Elvencrafted with the whimsical asymmetry and solid practicality that characterized the work of moon elves, the buildings housed most of the lords and ladies who sat on the council. Both the duties and privileges of government were shared by all in Evereska, and the common elves frequently gathered in the square for ritual, festivity, or contentious town meetings.
It was his voice, however, that issued the final word on such matters as now confronted the city. Erlan Duirsar kept this thought before him as he strode into the meeting hall to address the council. A powerful and proud group, the elves studied him with varied degrees of curiosity and impatience.
“I know that you all have important business elsewhere, but I must ask that you remain here in counsel this night. Evereska may need the special talents of each elf here.”
“What’s going on?” demanded the head of the College of Magic.
“Bran Skorlsun has come to the Greycloak Hills,” said Erlan Duirsar simply.
It was explanation enough.
* * * * *
The stars were beginning to wink into light as Arilyn entered the central garden through its maze of rose-entwined boxwood. Before her stood the statue of the Hannali Celanil, as radiantly beautiful as Arilyn remembered.
The half-elf drew a small parchment scroll from her pocket and held it aloft. “You told me to meet you at my mother’s statue. Let’s get this over with.”
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