The Dream Spheres (11 page)

Oth sneered. “I will not gainsay you. How could I? Though you have not been long in Waterdeep, I dare say you have already sampled enough of my peers to be considered an expert in the matter.”

Isabeau lunged for the oil lamp and hurled it at the mage. He stood his ground and made a short, sharp gesture with both hands. The lamp shattered in mid air and fell to the ground in a shower of glass shards and droplets of scented oil. Without another word, Oth turned and stalked from the room, leaving Isabeau shaking with rage.

And fear. And triumph and excitement blended in a sudden, wonderful, waterfall burst of relief.

The moment she was alone, Isabeau flung herself back onto the bed and opened her mouth in a long, silent scream of victory. She had done it! Oth’s treasure was hers, and no suspicion would touch her!

She quickly finished dressing, then slipped down the back stairs and dived through a hidden exit in search of a man who could market these treasures for her and set her feet more firmly on the path that she had chosen.

When Oth Eltorchul came storming down into the tavern room of The Silken Sylph, Elaith was waiting for him.

“A carriage,” the mage demanded of a serving maid, “and wine while I wait. One small goblet. Mark me, I do not wish to wait long.”

Elaith caught the woman’s eye and held up two fingers. She moved off to tend to the amended order. The elf rose and came over to the mage’s table, sliding silently into the empty chair.

The mage studied him with ill-concealed distaste. “The tavern is nearly empty, elf. Surely you could find another seat.”

Before Elaith could reply, a large, well-armed tavern guard stepped forward and nodded politely to Oth. He then leaned down and said confidingly, “Lord Craulnober can sit wherever he pleases. He owns this tavern, you see.”

“Ah. I do indeed.” Oth smiled thinly across the table at his host, who spread his hands in a parody of self-deprecation. “It would appear that I am your guest.”

“A paying guest,” Elaith said cordially, just so there would be no misunderstanding on the matter.

“Quite.” The mage looked up when the servant brought a bottle of wine, and his face darkened when she placed two goblets on the table. “Won’t you join me,” he invited through gritted teeth.

“How very kind.” Elaith took up the bottle and poured two generous portions of elven wine. Usually he would not waste the precious liquid on a human, but the light, almost floral taste of the wine masked a kick more powerful than that of an angry centaur.

Oth drank more deeply than prudence dictated. When the goblet was empty, he thunked it down on the table and glared at his host. “What manner of establishment do you run here, elf?”

Already his tone was fuzzy, lacking focus. Certainly his judgment was affected, for he would not otherwise dare to speak with such belligerence. Elaith let the insult pass for the moment.

“It is my desire that the service at The Silken Sylph be without peer. If you have reason for complaint, speak, and the matter will be set right.”

Oth snorted and held out his goblet for a refill. “So

easy, is it? What was taken from me cannot be replaced.”

Elaith began to see the shape of things. He poured a

second goblet and waited until the mage had drained it.

“Perhaps it could be recovered.”

“Hmph,” scoffed Oth, but without much conviction. His face went slack with despair, as long and morose as a pack mule’s.

“If you were robbed during your stay, then the reputation-and the profitability—of this fine establishment is at risk. Confide in me,” Elaith said earnestly, “and I will ensure by any means available to me that your loss is made right, and avenged, if you are so minded.”

Oth peered at him with drunken cunning. “No small foe,” he cautioned. “The treasure was stolen while I slept, despite wards I myself placed.”

The elf carefully hid his surprise and anger. He had anticipated a tale that pointed to a misplaced belonging. Guests were more inclined to ascribe their losses to theft than to their own carelessness, but the inn should have been protected against a theft. If Eltorchul’s tale were true, Elaith’s servants would answer for it.

“Do not concern yourself over the finding or the foe. Only tell me what is missing, and I will carry on from there.”

“Some coins, perhaps a hundred platinum,” Oth said in a sly tone. Elaith suspected the amount was probably a third of that. “A few pieces of jewelry: a gold ring, an embossed wrist bracer, also of gold. A ruby necklace set in silver filigree, with ear drops and rings to match.”

Elaith pricked up his ears. “A lady was with you? Where is she now?”

“Gone,” Oth said shortly. “She was most unhappy about her loss.”

“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 moonblade’s magic and yours. No sense running from a foe you have not even named.”