Songs & Swords 1 (8 page)

Adept at avoiding wine stains on his finery, Danilo held his goblet out at arm’s length as he caught the attractive missile in a careful, one-armed embrace. “I’ve counted the minutes, Sheabba.” He smiled into her upturned face.

The blond woman wrapped her arms around his waist and giggled up at him. “Of course you have. I suppose you’ve been charming all the women from here to Suzail?”

“Fertilizing the fields, more likely,” interjected Khelben in a sour tone.

“Bray elsewhere, old donkey,” Sheabba snapped. She threw a withering look at the mage, then recoiled in mortification as she realized whom she had insulted.

Danilo noted her dismay and came quickly to her rescue. “You’ll be at the festival games tomorrow, Shea, won’t you? Oh, marvelous. I’ll have to ride in one or two events, but a group of us are getting together at the Broken Lance afterward for drinks. My treat. Meet me there?”

The young woman managed a weak nod of agreement, then she took flight, weaving unsteadily through the crowd.

Danilo sighed noisily and shook his head. “Really, Uncle, the effect you have on women is beyond belief. Don’t despair. I’ve been working on this new spell, don’t you know, that might do your social life a world of—Hey, mind the silk!”

Khelben had once again seized Danilo’s arm. Ignoring the young man’s sputtering protests, the mage drew his nephew out of the room and into a secluded alcove.

Once released, Danilo leaned against a marble bust of Mielikki, Goddess of the Forest, and arranged his cape in artful folds before addressing himself to his glowering uncle. “To what do I owe the honor of this abduction?”

“You’ve heard about Rafe Silverspur.” Khelben was not given to lengthy preambles.

Danilo took a sip of his wine. “No, can’t say that I have. What’s the good ranger doing these days?”

“Very little. He’s dead.”

Danilo paled, and a look of remorse washed over Khelben’s face. The wizard continued in a gentler tone, “I’m sorry, Dan. I’d forgotten that Rafe and you had become good friends.”

The young man nodded acknowledgement. His face was without expression, but he studied the bubbles in his glass for a long moment before he looked up.

“Branded, I suppose?” Danilo’s voice was flat, all hint of the lazy drawl gone.

“Yes.”

“Rafe Silverspur,” Danilo repeated in a distant voice. “Your death will be avenged, my friend.”

The vow was spoken quietly, yet no one could hear it and doubt that it would come to pass. Danilo’s voice rang with quiet strength and stubborn resolve. Anyone who saw the young noble at this moment would have had a hard time equating him with the smug dandy known to Waterdeep society. His handsome face was dark with fury as he turned to the mage, but his rage was held in check by a control as remarkable as it was unexpected.

“How did he die?”

“Same as all the others—in his sleep, for all we can tell,” Khelben responded. “If a ranger as good as young Silverspur could be taken unaware, it’s no wonder the Harpers are running around in circles after this assassin.”

“The search, I take it, is not going well.”

“No,” the mage admitted. “That’s where you come in.”

Dropping back into his foppish persona, Danilo crossed his arms and quirked one eyebrow. “Somehow I knew you’d get around to saying that.”

“Indeed,” Khelben agreed dryly, recognizing that his nephew’s manner covered strong emotion.

“Naturally, you have a plan,” Danilo prompted.

“Yes. I’ve been following the assassin’s route, and a pattern is starting to emerge. It leads here.” Khelben reached into a pocket and drew out a pewter-framed miniature.

Danilo accepted the portrait and studied it, then whistled in appreciation. “You did this? By the gods, Uncle, there may yet be some hope for you as an artist.”

The young man’s teasing brought a faint smile to Khelben’s face. “I did not know you were a connoisseur of art.”

“Art, no. Women, definitely,” Danilo said fervently, his eyes still fixed upon the portrait. The subject was a woman of rare and exceptional beauty. Curly raven-black hair framed the perfect oval face and contrasted with her creamy white skin. Her cheekbones were sharp and high, her features sculpted by a delicate hand. Most extraordinary were her eyes, almond shaped and vividly green. Danilo was highly partial to green.

“Does she really look like this, or did you take artistic license?” Danilo asked.

“She really looks like that,” Khelben confirmed. He cocked his head and amended cryptically, “Well, sometimes she looks like that.”

Danilo glanced up, his brow furrowed. He shook his head to rid himself of the temptation to pursue the subject and got back to the business at hand. “Besides being the future mother of my children, who is this beauty?”

“The assassin’s target.”

“Ah. You want me to warn her?”

“No,” Khelben continued, “I want you to protect her. And, in a manner of speaking, spy on her. If I’m right, you’ll need to do both in order to catch the Harper Assassin.”

Danilo sank onto the stone bench beside the statue. The vague, charming smile had disappeared from his face, and once again his tone was grim. “I’m supposed to catch this Harper Assassin, am I? Perhaps you’d better start at the beginning.”

“Very well.” Khelben seated himself beside his nephew. He stabbed a finger at the portrait that still lay cradled in Danilo’s hand. “During most of the assassinations, perhaps all of them, this woman has been near at hand.”

“Sounds to me as if you have a suspect, not a target.” Danilo’s tone was laced with regret as he eyed the portrait.

“No.”

“No?” Danilo’s tone was both surprised and hopeful.

“No,” reiterated Khelben firmly. “And I say this for several reasons. She’s a Harper agent. One of the best. In my opinion, the assassin has been after her for some time. When he can’t get close enough to strike and still avoid detection, he settles for a less challenging target.”

“I’m sorry, but considering some of the Harpers who have fallen to this assassin, I find your theory difficult to swallow,” Danilo protested. To support his argument, he ticked off a list on the fingers of one hand. “Sybil Evensong, Kernigan of Soubar, the mage Perendra, Rathan Thorilander, Rafe Silverspur …” Danilo’s voice trailed off, and he had to clear his throat before he continued. “This woman couldn’t be more capable than any of those.”

“Yes, she could.”

“Really? Hmm. Why does your pretty Harper agent draw this assassin? Apart from the obvious reasons, naturally.”

“She has a moonblade,” Khelben explained tersely. “It’s a magic elven sword, very powerful. It is possible that the assassin, whoever he is, is after Arilyn’s sword.”

“Arilyn,” Danilo repeated the name absently, looking down at the picture once more. “It suits her. Arilyn what?”

“Moonblade. She has taken the sword’s name as her own. But we digress.”

“Indeed. So, what can this magic sword do?”

Khelben took his time before answering. “I’m not aware of all its powers,” he said carefully. “That’s where you come in.”

“You said that already,” Danilo observed.

The mage’s face darkened with exasperation. “Apart from you and me, do you see anyone in this room?” he snapped. “There’s no need to continue playing the fool.”

Danilo smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Habit, you know.”

“Yes, well, please attend to the matter at hand. The possibility exists that Arilyn Moonblade has been targeted for her sword as well as her talents. If we find out who has an interest in the moonblade and why, we have a better chance of finding this assassin.”

Danilo sat quietly for a long moment. “One question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why me?”

“Secrecy is vital. We can’t send someone obvious.”

“Oh,” Danilo crossed one knee over the other and flicked a lock of hair over his shoulder in an exaggerated, effeminate gesture. “Is it my imagination, or was I just insulted?”

Khelben scowled. “Don’t belittle yourself, boy. You’ve proven to be a more than capable agent, and you’re perfect for this job.”

“Indeed,” Danilo agreed wryly. “Protecting a woman who doesn’t seem to require my protection.”

“There’s more. We need information about the moonblade. You have proven to be very successful at separating women from their secrets.”

“It’s a gift,” Danilo modestly agreed. He tapped the portrait and added, “Not that I’m trying to get out of this assignment, mind you, but someone’s got to point out the obvious: why don’t we just ask her about the sword?”

Khelben faced the young nobleman, his expression grim and earnest. “There’s more to this than meets the eye, although an assassin of this skill, systematically wiping out Harpers, is trouble enough. No one must suspect that you work with me—not the assassin, not the other Harpers, and especially not Arilyn.”

“Intrigue within the ranks?” Danilo asked mockingly.

“It is possible,” Khelben answered cryptically.

“Marvelous,” Danilo muttered, looking genuinely appalled by Khelben’s unexpected response to his jest. “Even so, I don’t see why we need to keep this from Arilyn. If the assassin is after her, shouldn’t she be forewarned? Once she knows I’ve been sent to help her, she may be more prone to work with me.”

Khelben snorted. “Far from it. For all her talents, Arilyn Moonblade is one of the most stubborn, hotheaded, and unreasonable persons I’ve ever met. She wouldn’t agree to protection, and she wouldn’t take kindly to the notion that she couldn’t handle the assassin alone.” Khelben paused, and a grimace tugged the corners of his mouth down. “She reminds me of her father, come to think of it.”

Danilo regarded the mage with a skeptical expression. “This is all very interesting, but I sense that you’re skirting the real issue. It’s the sword, isn’t it? You know something about it that you’re not telling me.”

“Yes,” Khelben agreed simply.

“Well?” Danilo prompted.

Khelben shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to trust me. The fewer people who know, the better. I doubt even Arilyn herself knows the full extent of the sword’s power. We need to find out what she knows about the sword, and that’s—”

“Where I come in,” Danilo finished glumly.

“Indeed. You have a knack for getting people to talk. A word of caution, however. Until the assassin is identified and captured, you must never let down your facade.”

“Surely, after she becomes accustomed to my presence, she would—”

“No,” Khelben broke in. He raised a cautioning finger and paused for emphasis. “There is something you should know. Arilyn Moonblade is very good. She is not easy to follow, yet the assassin keeps cropping up near her. She is obviously being closely observed, probably through magical means. As a charming but ineffectual dandy, you may not seem a threat to whomever is watching Arilyn. If you should ever step out of your role …”

“Don’t worry,” Danilo said with an insouciant shrug. “I always did perform best for an audience.”

“I hope so. It could be a long performance. Arilyn is no fool, and you’ve got to stay with her until she leads you to the Harper Assassin.”

An expression of intense distaste crossed the young nobleman’s face. “I don’t like the idea of using this woman as bait for a trap.”

“Neither do I, ” growled Khelben. “But can you think of a better alternative?”

“No,” Danilo admitted.

“Exactly.” Khelben rose abruptly, indicating that the interview was over. “I suggest that you make your apologies to Lady Sheabba. You leave for Evereska in the morning.”

Five

The tavern hall of the Halfway Inn was bustling with activity when Arilyn came down from her room. Near the northwestern border of the mountain range that surrounded Evereska, the Halfway Inn was a stopping place for both human and elven trade caravans. There were few inns in the Greycloak Hills, and this one boasted comfortable rooms, vast stables, and warehouses for temporary secure storage of goods. Elves and humans, halflings and dwarves, and an occasional member of one of the other civilized races all commingled in a relaxed, congenial atmosphere.

The Halfway Inn was much more than an inn. Among other things, it was a trading center for the elven colony of Evereska. Set in a valley of fertile farmland and surrounded on all sides by mountains, Evereska was a beautiful and heavily fortified elven city. It was protected by an impressive arsenal of elven magic and military might. The Evereska Valley had been inhabited by elves longer than anyone could reckon, but the city itself was young by elven standards. As was the case with most elven settlements, little was known about Evereska other than its reputation for impregnability and the calibre of elven mages and fighters trained at its College of Magic and Arms. To most of those who traveled through the Greycloak Hills, the Halfway Inn was Evereska. Few persons got any closer to the city.

Myrin Silverspear, the inn’s proprietor, was a dour, silent moon elf whose silver eyes missed nothing. He kept his own council better than anyone Arilyn had ever met, and his cozy establishment seemed designed especially with discretion in mind. As a result, the Halfway Inn was ever abuzz with intrigue, dealmaking, and clandestine meetings.

Arilyn always stopped here on her way into Evereska, to receive assignments or to meet contacts. For no reason that she could fathom, Myrin Silverspear had taken a special interest in her and her career. Whenever she stayed at the inn, he looked after her as if she were elven royalty.

As usual, he met her at the foot of the stairs with a low bow. “Your presence honors this house, Arilyn Moonblade. Is there anything that you require this evening, quex etriel?”

As usual, Arilyn winced at the extreme deference of his greeting. “Just to be seen.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Arilyn grinned. “Let’s just say that I’d like to be seen coming into the inn, but not going out.”

“Ah. Of course.” As usual, that was explanation enough for the discrete innkeeper. He took her arm and escorted her with grave ceremony to the large bar. She took one of the most conspicuous barstools, and Myrin made a show of going behind the bar and serving her himself.

Arilyn sipped at the elven spirits he’d poured her and fought back a surge of laughter. “Thank you, Myrin. I’ve definitely been seen.”