Silver Shadows (28 page)

Foxfire tossed back his head and laughed. “If you dance half so well as you fight, you will have grace enough to charm the entire Seldarine.”

Arilyn smiled. Speaking of charm, this one had it by the bucketful. MA silver tongue is rare among the forest folk. I was given to think that you preferred plain words,” she teased him. >

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“Then I shall speak plainly. I am glad you have come,”

The intricate pattern of the dance changed, and Arilyn was whirled away into the circle. The elves spun and dapped, drawing down the starlight, weaving it into threads of magic with their music and dance.

Lake the stardust spoken of in a lullaby, the mystic dance settled upon the elves and lulled them to repose. The wounded who could not dance rested comfortably, many smiling softly as their unseeing eyes gazed upon pleasant and healing memories. Most of the children had slipped deep into reverie, and their parents bore them quietly away to their rest. The celebration ended, not in a drunken stupor as did so many human revels, but on a note of quiet exultation.

Arilyn treasured the moment of peace as a rare gift. Along with the elves, she quietly made her way to her resting place.

A small dwelling had been given her, and as she climbed the ladder it began to occur to her just how tired she truly was. She stripped off her clothes and washed from the basin of mint-scented water that had been left there for her. Before sleeping, she pulled on fresh leggings and a tunic—clothes better suited for fighting than sleeping. But not even the peace of Talltrees could erase the habits of a lifetime, or the memories of the many times she had leaped from bed to battle.

One final preparation remained. Arilyn took from her pack the mask Tinkersdam had made for her, and she pressed it carefully to her upper face. Should anyone happen to look upon her, they would see not a slumbering half-elf, but a moon elven warrior in well-deserved reverie.

Despite all that had happened, despite the success in battle, and despite Ferret’s tales, Arilyn knew what would become of her if the green elves realized that a human’s daughter slept among them.

The dance was long finished and most of the elves had retired, but for some reason Foxfire did not share

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their calm. He felt unaccountably restless—excited, perhaps, by the first real hope he had felt for many days. He had managed to hide his growing despair, but not until now did he realize how heavy the burden of it had been..

He noticed that Korrigash, too, seemed immune to the magic of the star-web woven by the dance. The dark-haired hunter sat alone by the embers of the cookfire, staring at the few pinpricks of light left among the coals.

Korrigash was one of the elves who had been caught in the traps, and his pride was no doubt more sorely wounded than this leg. Tamara insisted that Korrigash would soon walk and run and hunt as well as ever he had, but Foxfire knew how unwelcome the prospect of even a brief period of inactivity must be to the hunter.

Foxfire walked over to sit at his friend’s side. Immediately Korrigash fixed a concerned gaze upon him.

“She is an outsider,” he said without preamble. “Nothing good can come of it.”

The war leader frowned, realizing that Korrigash spoke of Arilyn but not understanding the apparent depth of his Mend’s concern. “How can you say that, after what you saw? She turned the battle.”

“True enough. But I was not speaking of battle.”

“Ah.” Foxfire turned aside to stare into the fire. His friend’s concerns were of a more personal nature, had more to do with Foxfire’s fascination with the moon elf. It was well that not everyone in the tribe had eyes so sharp, else his own position as war leader would swiftly be brought into question. Accepting a moon elf as battle leader was one thing; a more personal alliance was simply out of the question.

Foxfire reached over and patted Korrigash’s shoulder, accepting his counsel without responding to it.

In truth, he did not know what his response should be. Yes, the moon elf was very different. But so were arrow and bow, and yet they worked together to betome

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more than what either might be alone. His duty was to his people: could he turn away from anything—or anyone—who might aid them?

Foxfire rose and bid goodnight to his friend. But the calm of reverie eluded him, and he walked through Talltrees until the song of the night insects had dimmed to a murmur. Shortly before dawn, his restless path brought him to the base of Arilyn’s tree.

After a moment’s hesitation, he began to climb the ladder to her dwelling. There were plans that must be made. He had much to learn of her, and she of him.

But he saw at once that Arilyn still rested. A surge of disappointment flowed through him, but no elf would disturb the reverie of another except in the direst of emergencies. For several moments, however, Foxfire gazed upon his new advisor.

How strange were the moon folk, with their cloud-colored skin and eyes the shade of a summer sky! Iferhaps their colors were a sign of how far the city-dwelling elves had removed themselves from the earth. No longer did the tints of earth’s browns and coppers and greens linger about them. It was said that of all the races of elves, the moon folk were most like humans. He could see that in Arilyn. In many ways she resembled a human woman, albeit one far more delicate and beautiful than any Foxfire had seen in the marketplaces during those years when the Elmanesse still traded with the humans.

She stirred, as if somehow the intensity of his gaze had pierced her dreams. Yet if that were so, why did she seem distressed? He wished her nothing but good. She tossed her head back and forth as if in denial and spoke a strange name with such pain and confusion that Foxfire could not help but flinch. After a few moments, the painful reverie subsided, and her breathing returned to its odd rhythm: deep, slow and soft.

Foxfire froze, easing his thoughts away slowly so as not to disturb her. Quietly, thoughtfully, he made his way down to the forest floor, to await the coming of the dawn.

Fourteen

Lord Hhune paced angrily about his chamber, keenly aware that the amused gaze of the mercenary captain followed him. This only made him more wrathful—not only had the man overstepped his bounds, but his insolence was beyond bearing!

“You understand what you have done, do you not? The logging operation cannot continue! The money I have lost, the wealth I have yet to lose, is beyond reckoning!”

Bunlap seemed singularly unconcerned by this outburst. “You have your private navy. The risk of acquiring more ships is far greater than the benefits.”

This was true, but Hhune did not care to hear it from a hireling. “Your task was not to start a war, but to protect the foresters from the elves!”

“Which is precisely what I have done,” the captain said coolly. “Do you think there is but one band of elves in all of the Forest of Tethir? We subdued the Suldusk tribe, but did not wish to risk word of your activities

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reaching the stronger and more warlike tribes to the north and west. What better way to keep these elves out of your business than to busy them with other matters?”

“The plan is all well and good, but its execution is utterly out of control,” Hhune said. “You raised too much trouble with the elves, and now it has become a matter that demands resolution. What if there is all-out war and the pasha of Zazesspur sends armed men into the forest? What if my logging activities come to light?”

“There are still trees enough in the forest. It’s not likely an invading army would notice that a few have gone missing,” the mercenary retorted. “And if so, what of it? You’ve covered your backside with so many layers of paper that you couldn’t feel the lash of a whip through them all! Even if the logging operation were discovered, no one could trace it past those holding companies of yours.”

“We take no more chances. Close up the logging camp at once.”

“And the elves?” Bunlap said.

Hhune shrugged. “The elves always have been and always will be. Let them melt back into their shadows. I have bought a bit of time with the Council of Lords, before that time is up, the troubles will stop and the attention of the people will be drawn to other matters. Are we clear on this?”

“Ah, but there we have a problem,” Bunlap said in a smug tone. “Certain things, once set in motion, are difficult to stop. The farming folk north of Port Kir live in mortal dread of elven attack. Business in Mosstone has {alien off, except for the hiring of mercenary guards. I can’t seem to get enough of my men up there to satisfy demand. And I notice that you yourself are preparing to travel northward with far more than your usual guard,” Bunlap added.

“It is my custom to attend the summer fairs in Waterdeep,” Hhune said stiffly. “I have my responsibilities to the shipping guild to tend.”

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“Ah, yes. Commerce. And how does overland trade fare these days?”

The guildmaster glared at the man. “Not well,” he admitted.

Bunlap tsk-tsked. **A shame. I would hate to see you lose your position in the shipping guild. Not to mention the negative impact upon your future prospects when word spreads that these elven attacks are actually in retaliation against atrocities committed against them, atrocities in which you played no small part.”

“Do not presume to blackmail me,” Hhune said coldly. “You are as deeply involved in this as I am. You cannot fling stable-sweepings without the scent clinging to you!”

Then I see no reason why we should not both continue to profit,” the mercenary returned. “I will close down the logging camp, send the hired foresters back to the Vilhon Reach, and man the camp as a second base of operations. My men will take on the elves, and take out the elves. Once tins is done, your problem is solved. Your precious trades routes will be hampered only by the usual bandits and brigands, and the villages and farms will have only the petty noblemen to torment them. In short, life in Tethyr will return to normal. I gain a second stronghold and settle a few personal scores. And you, my friend, can take whatever credit for sudden calm that suits your purposes—and give whatever explanation far it that you like.”

“If you think to defeat the elves in their own forest, you are utterly mad,” Hhune scoffed. “That was attempted; the best the army could do was to drive them deeper into the trees.”

“Granted, the total destruction of the elves is little more than a pleasant fantasy. Yet I shall do my small part. And frankly, who will know the difference, but for you, me, and the few elves that survive?”

Hhune thought this over. It was not an ideal situation, but it was a workable compromise. It would feot be

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the first time he had been pressed into shady alliances or forced to work outside the bounds of law, nor would it be the last.

After Tethyr’s civil war, laws were passed in Zazesspur, as well as in several other cities, that strictly limited the arms and forces that any citizen, guild, or private group could maintain. It was quite illegal for Hhune to own the type of fast, maneuverable, and well-armed vessels that could protect his merchant ships from piracy. Hhune considered these laws unreasonable, so he’d found ways to circumvent them. Yet within the very guild he strove to protect were those who would gladly betray his activities in the hope of climbing to his position. Guild monies were carefully monitored, and embezzlement was out of the question. And although he was a wealthy man, it was not within his means to finance the sort of fleet he needed. It had occurred to him that the resources he needed were close at hand: the ancient trees of the elven forest.

Logging in the Forest of Tethir had been forbidden for as long as human memory stretched back. Perhaps because the strictures against this were so deeply ingrained, Hhune found setting up an operation to be far easier than he expected. First came the chain of merchants and messengers and companies that stood between him and the hiring of foresters from distant reaches of the Vilhon to the east. This had gone well, until attacks by the eastern tribes of elves had brought logging to a standstill.

That was when Hhune had hired Bunlap, and the man had proven his worth ten times over. The mercenary captain had at his disposal a veritable army, as well as an information network as efficient as any affiliated with the Knights of the Shield. The captain’s knowledge of river traffic was such that loggers could find brief windows of time to float the cut lumber downriver. At a point just south of the Starspire Mountains, below the river’s fork on the southern shore, the logs

The Harpers

were netted, loaded onto wagons, and brought in overland until they met up with the trade route west of Ithmong and east of the ruins of Castle Tethyr. False papers claimed that the logs come from the forested south. Hhune “paid” for the logs and made a nice profit selling the lumber to a shipyard in Port Kir. He then used the funds—under the guise of several blind companies—to pay for his fleet of illegal ships.

It was a good plan, and so far all had gone well. But keeping this information from his guild, from the Knights of the Shield, and from the officials of Zazesspur was becoming an increasingly delicate balancing act. One, Hhune feared, that Bunlap might well upset. It was best to give the man his way in this matter.

“Do what you will with the forest elves,” Hhune said coldly. “As you have pointed out, I do not care what becomes of them. Do whatever is needed to see that the trouble dies down soon, but do it quickly and quietly.”

“Agreed,” Bunlap said and rose to leave. It struck the mercenary captain that this was a promise easily made. Indeed, the task would be far easier than the foolish merchant thought. In the tumultuous climate of Tethyr, a few rumors served remarkably well to create panic. Let some new and different sort of disturbance arise, and the “elven threat* would fade soon enough. Especially considering that Bunlap and his men were the source of most of it!

It was also ridiculously easy to draw the elves into conflict. They were protective of their own and their forest. Threaten either one, and the long-eared idiots came at a run.