The Dream Spheres (24 page)

“I’m fond of winterfest puddings,” Arilyn commented. “Since that perfume didn’t suit you, perhaps I should buy it.”

Cassandra looked nonplussed for a moment. She quickly covered her reaction with a cool smile. “My dear, that scent is far too … formal for you. Surely there is something in this shop that would suit you better.”

The subtle insult held an opportunity. The noblewoman was aware of Arilyn’s dark reputation. The half-elf decided to play upon that knowledge. She folded her arms and let her gaze go flat, cold, and deadly—the stare of a hunting hawk or a hired killer.

“So I hear. I have no immediate use for such things, but I would be very interested to know who might.”

They regarded each other for a long, measuring moment. Cassandra glanced back at her son. She took a small vial from the shelf and handed it to him. “Take this as a gift for your … lady, and go. You would do well to heed my advice.”

Cassandra pulled on her gloves and sailed out to her waiting carriage.

Danilo waved away the perfumer’s assistant. He led the way out into the street, then turned an apologetic gaze upon his friend. “I suppose you realize she was not referring to perfume,” he murmured.

“The thought occurred to me,” Arilyn said with a touch of sarcasm. “Does Cassandra have a general aversion to half-elven assassins, or did she have some other, more specific advice in mind?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” he admitted. “She was most insistent that I not involve myself with Oth’s death, but I put that down to her abhorrence for scandal. She is concerned about my choice of companion, probably for much the same reason. As you have observed, some of the nobility look askance at alliances between their peers and other races.”

This was the first time Danilo had openly admitted that a problem might exist. Arilyn decided it was time to put her cards on the table. “I spoke with Arlos Dezlentyr yesterday.”

Danilo looked at her sharply. “He told you about his first wife?”

“So you have heard that story,” Arilyn said. “I’d wondered. Yes, her death made quite a stir among the elves. Many were indignant when no real attempt was made to find her killer.”

“If, indeed, she was murdered.”

“Sibylanthra was a young elf in apparent good health and happy with her work, her husband, and her young children. What else could it be?”

When Danilo offered no argument, she continued. “You admit that your peers are unhappy to see you with a half-elf. Someone was unhappy that Arlos Dezlentyr married an elf woman. Tren tunnels link the Dezlentyr estate with Diloontier’s shop. Shall we find out why, or would you rather spend the rest of your life checking shadows for a tren ambush?”

“There is something in what you say,” he said slowly.

“Do we have any reason to believe that the tren attacks were directed at anyone other than Oth Eltorchul and those who happened to have recent dealings with the man? Once the truth of his death is known, there will be no further need for concern.”

Arilyn sniffed.

“Truly,” Danilo continued earnestly, “no one among the nobility wishes you ill. Some might be displeased by my choice of companion, but they could hardly see our future children as a threat to the peerage. After all, the line for the Thann family title is as long as a dwarven ballad.”

They walked in silence for several moments before he spoke again. “Your mention of Lady Dezlentyr took me aback. Lady Cassandra reminded me of that story a few nights past,” he said slowly. “At the time it was apparent she meant it as a cautionary tale. Although it pains me to say this, I am not certain whether it was intended as warning or as threat.”

Arilyn did not respond at once, giving him time to absorb the impact of his own words before she added another painful layer. “That perfume your mother recommended. Would you recognize the bottle if you saw it on the shelf among others?”

“I suppose so. Why?”

“Lady Cassandra was quick to give it up when she saw us. If we wish to prove that Diloontier sells things other than simple perfumes, this might be a place to start. You heard what I said to her in the shop.”

“Heard, yes. I’m not sure I understood what went unsaid between you.”

“I implied that her potions or others in the shop might be poison. I told her I had no use for them at the moment but was looking for those who might. An assassin hunting down assassins. She heard and warned us.”

“I know people who can test it for me, see what it is and how it works. It will take a few days for me to get

back the answer, but it would be information worth having.”

Danilo digested this in silence. “Do not misunderstand me when I say that testing the perfume would be effort wasted.”

“But—”

He cut her off with an upraised hand. “Diloontier took the bottle into the back room, promising to ‘repair the scent.’ By now the contents have been altered. We must look elsewhere.”

Arilyn could not refute his logic. She gritted her teeth and acknowledged it with a curt nod. There was no more speech between them, though she could not help but wonder if Danilo was relieved at finding a wall at the end of this particular alley.

She had her moonblade and her duty to the elven people. Danilo had title and privilege and a nobleman’s loyalty to family and peers. Of one thing she was grimly certain: Before this matter was settled, either she or Danilo would be called upon to sacrifice something of deep value. She only hoped it would not be each other.

In all truth, though, she did not see how it could be otherwise.

Lilly walked quickly down the streets of the Castle Ward. She seldom had reason to come to this posh district of Waterdeep, but her determination sustained her, just as it had through the horrid trip back to the city.

This ward was almost as foreign to her as the tunnels and caves had been. There was little work to be had in the Castle Ward, since the taverns hired serving girls with more polished speech and manners. Nor did she dare ply her trade as thief so close to the castle and the horde of guards and watchmen who patrolled the area.

She nervously smoothed her hands over the skirt of her best dress and hoped that she did not look too conspicuous. More than one masculine glance lingered upon her and followed her as she turned onto the Street of the Sword. Usually Lilly would look upon such things as nature’s course, a compliment paid without words. Today she feared the stares meant she was out of place.

Worse yet, under scrutiny.

The thought sent her blood skittering through her and set up a humming in her ears like that of a dozen whining mosquitoes. “I’m in a dither, that’s all. No call for it,” she assured herself in the most stouthearted tone she could muster.

Tossing back her head, she walked the rest of the way with feigned confidence and entered Balthorr’s Rare and Wonderful Treasures as if she did so twice every tenday.

The proprietor glanced up. Lilly rocked back on her heels, unprepared for the man’s scarred visage. She’d heard that Balthorr had lost an eye in a battle with a chimera, but she didn’t expect that he would flaunt his loss as proudly as a family crest. He wore a glass eye, striking in that it was nothing but a white sphere. To Lilly, it was eerily reminiscent of the Dreamspheres.

“I have come to sell,” she said, more abruptly than she had planned.

Balthorr studied her with his one good eye. He rose and jerked his head toward a curtained room.

Lilly followed him, then quickly spilled her coins onto the table. “These are platinum. Not many will accept them from the likes of me without asking questions. Can you exchange them for lesser coin?”

The man studied one of the large, shining disks. “Two hundred silver,” he offered.

She worked out the exchange in her head and decided the deal was fair enough. “This, too,” she added, placing the ruby on the table.

Balthorr picked up the gem and studied it. “Very pretty. Too big to be real, though.”

For a moment Lilly’s heart sank, but she quickly gathered herself, bolstered by her conviction that this stone was something very special, almost a living thing. It was not so very big—not much bigger than the nail on her smallest finger. “It is a precious stone,” she said severely. “I heard tell you knew about such things.”

The man spread his hands and shrugged, as if to say that she could not blame him for trying to make the best bargain. “Two hundred gold, paid out in trade-weight bars. Not a copper more.”

Lilly’s head swam with the enormity of it. Never in her life had she imagined owning such a sum! Why, with that money she could go as far west as Cormyr, with enough left to take lessons in speech and deportment and buy some respectable clothes. She could find work in a fine shop and make her own way without recourse to thievery.

“I’ll take it,” she said, knowing she should barter but not willing to risk that life-saving sum. She watched intently as the man counted out a hundred gold coins onto a scale, then balanced them with several small shining bars to show her the trade bars measured up in weight to the actual coin. These he placed into a small sack.

When he was finished, she fairly snatched up the sack, startled by how heavy that much gold could be.

Lilly was too eager to be off to be overly concerned with proprieties. She hiked up her skirts and attached the bag to the belt that cinched her chemise. The shopkeeper glanced in her direction, but he seemed far more interested in the ruby and platinum coins that he had just acquired.

With a fistful of silver coins at the ready, Lilly fled from the shop and searched about for a carriage. It was an extravagance, but one she could ill afford to pass up.

Under the watchful eye of Hamish Half-ogre, her tavern room was the safest place she knew. Better to waste a few coins to ride back to this haven than to risk losing all among her fellow thieves.

Three guild carriages passed by without responding to her hail. Finally one drew up, and a pair of baffling grooms hopped down to help her up. The carriage was not empty, but Lilly did not expect to have it to herself. A man and woman sat nestled cozily together on one seat. She settled down on the opposite seat, keeping her eyes politely averted to give her fellow travelers a bit of privacy.

“Doing a little shopping, are we?”

The voice was darkly accented, edged with ice, and chillingly familiar, Lilly started and turned a guilty gaze upon her partner.

“That I am,” she babbled, trying without success to hold Isabeau Thione’s hard, black-eyed gaze. “Sold one of the Dreamspheres, I did, just as we agreed. The coins bought me a lovely dinner, and this new hat—”

“Spare me. I’ve been following you, and you went nowhere near a tavern or a milliner. I’m guessing you sold all seven Dreamspheres. I’d like to see what they are worth.”

Isabeau nodded to her companion, whom Lilly recognized as the captain of the bandit band—and the only thief who had survived the raid. “Hold her.”

Lilly lunged for the door handle, intending to leap into the street. A large hand clamped on her wrist and flung it high and back. The thug seized her other hand and raised it over her head. With one hand he pinned her firmly against the carriage wall.

“I’ll scream,” Lilly threatened.

“You’ll die,” riposted Isabeau. For good measure, she tugged a large silken kerchief from her pocket and wadded it. She seized Lilly’s jaw and pinched it hard, then forced the gag into her mouth.

Lilly sat in silent, frustrated outrage as the woman’s deft hands explored her, finding the hidden bag in a few quick pats. Isabeau pulled a small, narrow knife from the coils of her hair and sliced open Lilly’s dress. She took the bag and dumped the contents into her silky lap. Her black brows rose in a supercilious arch.

“Quite the merchant, aren’t you? I never dreamed you could get so much for a few Dreamspheres—which we agreed you would keep for yourself.”

Lilly watched helplessly as Isabeau slipped the bag into her pockets. “Normally, I would insist upon an equal split,” the woman said with a sweet, false smile, “but since you saw fit to change our agreement, I think should take the whole as penalty. That is fair, hmm?”

The false smile dropped from her face like a discarded cloak. “Your greed and carelessness could have brought this back to my door. Do not cross me again— ever. I hope you realize you can never speak of what we did without condemning yourself to hang from the city walls.”

Lilly nodded her head emphatically, though this threat was far less potent than the grim demonstration the tren monsters had given.

“Good. We understand each other. I’ll contact you when I need you again.” She turned to her henchman “You can let her out at the next alley.”

The bandit reached for the door of the carriage. Without waiting for it to stop, he wrenched it open and hurled Lilly through the door.

She hit the cobblestones and rolled, coming to painful stop against a pile of wooden crates. The carriage moved smoothly down the street, its passage covering the brutal exit.

Lilly’s head throbbed from the impact with the stone and the world spun madly as she rose to her feet. She collapsed with a cry of pain-her ankle had been wrenched in the fall. Even without this injury, she doubted she

could have stood for long. Quickly she took inventory of the damage. A long, raw scrape marked her arm, and one cheek stung. Her ears rang, and sharp sparkles of color popped and exploded through her vision. Her dress was torn, in addition to the rips Isabeau’s knife had made. She had no money to ride, and her first tentative step sent bright shards of pain exploding through her battered body. She had no choice, though. She told herself that as she struggled to rise, trying to beat back the waves of darkness. But her body would not obey her. She was only dimly aware of the approach of heavy boots, the smell of leather armor as two men crouched over her.

“What have we here?” one of them said. He twined a lock of pale red-gold hair between his fingers. “A strawberry tart, you might say, but a bit far from the bakery.”

The other man slapped his hand aside. “You stupid sod! Look at that face. This is one of the Thann brood, or I’m a three-legged ogre. If Lady Cassandra hears you offered insult to one of hers, she’ll have our stones set in silver and wear them in a tiara.”