The Dream Spheres (38 page)

Elaith let the man absorb this, then took a small package from the folds of his sleeve and unwrapped a blackened dagger. “One of my warehouses caught fire. The structure stood firm, but everything inside was burned, as was no doubt the intention. This was found between the charred ribs of a man in the employ of the Ilzimmer family. Do you recognize the workmanship?”

Danilo took the dagger and turned it over in his hands. He gave it back after a quick perusal. “My first sword was an Amcathra blade, as is nearly every weapon I own,” he said evenly. “They are incomparable.”

“Nearly as good as elven weapons,” Elaith agreed. He saw the sudden leap of surprise and speculation in Danilo’s eyes and wondered what it meant. The resolve returned, as suddenly as it had fled, now tempered by a

new layer of sadness. “I am sorry to bear this news,” the elf said. “What it means, I cannot say.”

“Rest assured that I will find out.”

The elf’s resigned sigh and look of concern were not entirely feigned. “I thought as much. Have a care. The Amcathra clan is subtle and canny. Who would think them capable of such deeds?”

Those words were true enough to cloak the elf’s deception—and hide another truth layered beneath it. Elaith knew full well that the Amcathra clan deserved its sterling reputation. There was no better quarry to set this particular hound upon, for Danilo would follow this path with dogged determination—and that would keep him and Arilyn out of Elaith’s way. Of course, the cost to Danilo would be the loss of a lifelong friendship, but in Elaith’s opinion Regnet Amcathra was a highly expendable pawn.

“Regnet Amcathra. Who would have thought?” Danilo echoed with a faint, pained smile. He extended his hand to the elf. “Hard words to speak, but I thank you for them.”

Elaith took the offered handclasp and met the human’s steady gaze. “What are friends for?” he said with apparent warmth and deliberate irony.

Regnet Amcathra lived in the Sea Ward, a sedate sector of the city that was nonetheless close to the roiling life of the docks. It seemed to Danilo that this contrast suited his old friend. The Amcathra family was obscenely wealthy, and Regnet, like Danilo, was a younger son and not involved directly in family affairs. Although Regnet was as fond of luxury and as complacently serene in his position as any man of his class, he had a fondness for adventure. A few years back, he had founded the Deep Delvers, a group of bored young nobles who

went into the tunnels beneath Waterdeep in search of adventure.

Danilo had always admired this endeavor. At the moment, however, Regnet’s deep-delving ways held too much coincidence for Danilo’s peace of mind. Adventuring was often a convenient mask for roguery, and any connection with Undermountain in general and Skullport in particular was highly suspect. He sincerely hoped Regnet had not been involved with Lilly, that he’d had no part in the business that had led to her death.

He left his horse with the groom and walked through the iron gate, a daunting affair fashioned from three pairs of rearing pegasi. His friend’s home was small, by the standards of the Sea Ward, and had once been a carriage house for a wealthy mage who owned a small fleet of pegasi. The mansion itself had burned down years ago—another casualty of magic created without thought of possible consequence—and it had never been rebuilt.

The door opened before Danilo could knock. He smiled down at the baffling steward-a hiring trend that had become all the rage since word of Monroe’s efficiency had made the rounds of Danilo’s social circle. This halfling wore a blue and red uniform that proclaimed his service to the Amcathra house, and his hair was as yellow as a dandelion. At the moment the comparison was particularly apt, for the steward’s hair stood up as if he had raked his hands through it repeatedly and with great agitation.

Danilo regarded the little fellow. “Is something amiss, Munson?”

“You might say that, sir.”

Before the halfling could elucidate, a jaunty step behind him spoke of his master’s approach.

“Danilo! Welcome. How long has it been since you’ve

stopped by? Longer than a dwarf’s beard, I’ll warrant.”

Though Regnet’s words were a fair reflection of fact,

there was no reproach in the man’s face or voice. Danilo took the offered handclasp and returned his friend’s smile with genuine warmth—and deep sadness. Regnet was an affable soul, handsome in a roguish sort of way, with curly brown hair and laughing hazel eyes. He had his faults, including a hot and ready temper, but Danilo could not believe he could be part of something as vile and needless as Lilly’s death.

His need to know deepened and settled his resolve. “Have you time at present for conversation?” Danilo asked.

“I am at leisure this whole day and yours to command. We must have a drink. Munson, is there any zzar in the house?”

“Of course, my lord, but-“

“Fine. Splendid. Bring some to the game room. Danilo, you haven’t yet seen my new trophy.” Regnet clapped an arm around his visitor’s shoulders and began to lead the way.

The halfling’s eyes bulged, lending him a distinct likeness to a panic-stricken trout. “My lord, I must have a word with you.”

“Later,” Regnet said firmly.

Danilo fell into step beside his friend, listening with only half an ear as Regnet chatted about his latest adventure—something about icy tunnels, and caverns so sparkling with crystal and ice that a single torch seemed to transform the place into a house of mirrors.

Danilo was more interested in whatever caused the halfling so much consternation. The steward followed them a few steps, his small round face a study in indecision. This Danilo could understand. Despite his good humor, Regnet had a demon of a temper-this Danilo could attest to, as he had been on the receiving end of it twice or thrice. Like many men of his class, Regnet paid scant attention to his servants as long as they followed his orders without question or hesitation. It was

a combination that might well give pause to the most stouthearted halfling. After a bit Munson gave up the effort, sighed, and veered off into a side passage, no doubt in search of the requested liqueur.

They reached a set of double doors. Regnet threw them open with a flourish. “What do you think?” he demanded proudly.

Danilo peered into the room. Fine, deep chairs were scattered about, and tables of polished wood held gaming boards and neat stacks of cards. Small bowls of semiprecious gems or brightly polished crystals stood nearby as an aid in placing wagers. The most notable feature of the room was the collection of trophies. A splendid stag gazed down from over the mantle, its enormous rack casting shadows against the flickering glow of firelight on the floor beneath. A wild boar grinned wickedly from its place over the dartboard. Dangerous tusks the size and sharpness of daggers lent the beast an air of dignity that was not in the least diminished by the pair of darts that bristled from its snout. A narwhal was mounted against an enormous wooden plaque. The great fish had long been Regnet’s pride, for the narwhal’s size and the wicked, serrated length of sword on its snout made it the most difficult and dangerous of game fish. The narwhal had been stuffed with its tail arched beneath it, the body curved and ready for a lunging attack. It looked like a master swordsman forever frozen in guard position.

The new addition to the game room was even more spectacular. A giant, bearlike creature loomed out of the shadows in the far corner of the room. The thing was taller than a man, with a strangely pointed head and fur the color of sooty snow. Its rubbery lips were pulled back in an eternal snarl, baring large yellow fangs. Clawed paws, long-fingered as a man’s but padded on the palm like those of a cave bear, were raised in menace.

“A yeti,” Regnet said proudly. “I took it in the ice caves this spring.”

The taking of trophies was a common practice but not one that -appealed to Danilo. “An impressive collection,” he said without much enthusiasm.

Regnet grinned and nudged his friend with an elbow. “Not as impressive as my other collection of trophies won, stuffed, and mounted, eh?”

Considering the nature of Danilo’s visit, the bawdy jest was as painful as a bare-fisted blow. It was also an unfortunately apt segue. “I regret to be the bearer of bad news,” he began.

The nobleman’s smile faltered. He sank down on a nearby chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. Once Danilo was similarly settled, Regnet nodded his encouragement.

“This regards a young woman known as Lilly. I know you have met her—she was at the Gemstone Ball, and you engaged her in conversation. Though you did not indicate to me at the time that you already knew the lady, it has been brought to my attention that you two were quite well acquainted.”

Regnet’s eyes widened in a moment of masculine panic. “Tymora take me! Not another bastard!”

This response was not what Danilo had anticipated. “You have others?”

The nobleman sniffed. “Surely you aren’t claiming that you do not! Consider our misspent youth, and the long nights spent drinking and wenching. Only a special pet of Lady Luck, or a man as dry as a dwarf, could escape a mishap or two. But this is a most inopportune time. I had planned to announce my betrothal at winterfest.”

Anger flared through Danilo, stealing his breath and almost blinding him with its intensity. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the stuffed yeti, which seemed to quiver in sympathetic indignation. He waited a moment until his vision cleared and he could trust himself to speak with control.

“Yet you toyed with this girl.”

‘As did others, no doubt,” Regnet retorted. “For all we know, the brat could well be yours!”

Danilo surged to his feet and slapped both hands down on the table between them. He leaned in over the nobleman. “Lilly was not with child,” he said in cold, measured tones, “and have a care how you speak of her. She was my sister.”

Regnet jolted. “I did not know”

“Nor did I, until a few days ago. Nor will I know her.” The reality of that brought an overwhelming tide of loss. He slumped back into his chair. “She’s dead, Regnet.”

“Gods above, Danilo. I’m sorry.”

The words were sincere enough, but they spoke of sympathy for a friend’s loss. For himself, Regnet looked positively relieved.

Relieved. Not guilty. Danilo absorbed this, and decided that on the whole it was the best reaction he could have expected. Several moments of silence passed. For the sake of something to say, Danilo asked, “To what lady have you decided to pay court?”

“This may come as something of a surprise,” Regnet cautioned, “but she is a fine woman, and she will see admirably to my business and social affairs.”

Unlike a simple tavern wench, Danilo concluded grimly. He wondered if Lilly would have derived any sense of justice from the cool, practical description Regnet gave her rival.

“Business and social affairs, is it? Spoken like a true lover.” Danilo’s heart was not in the teasing, but at least he managed to keep the bitterness he felt on Lilly’s behalf out of his tone.

Regnet grinned, not at all offended. “The lady has

many charms, but those are the skills that come first to

mind when her name is spoken. A redoubtable hostess.”

“Is that so,” Danilo said without much interest. “If

Galinda Raventree were not so adamant in her refusal

of suitors, I would think that you might be describing her.”

“Indeed I am,” Regnet said, not without pride.

At that moment, a feral shriek exploded from the far corner of the room. The yeti rocked back and forth, like a frozen creature trying to tear itself from a tomb of ice, and then it lunged forward.

Both men leaped to their feet. Danilo reached for his spell bag, and Regnet drew his dagger.

The yeti crashed to the floor, taking a table with it and sending ivory chess pieces flying like shards of ice. It rolled over onto one dead side and lay where it fell, leaving the real danger revealed behind it.

Myrna Cassalanter stood there, her hands fisted at her sides and her face as twisted and furious as a harpy’s. She was dressed for seduction: Her henna-colored hair was arranged in an artful tangle to suggest—or invite-a lover’s touch, and her gown was scarlet, clinging, and cut exceedingly low. Much of her snowy bosom was exposed and was, at the moment, quivering with indignation.

“You thrice-bedamned troll! Son of a poxed whore!” she shrieked. Her hands hooked into rending claws, and she came on like a rampant dragon.

Regnet tossed aside his dagger and leaped over the chair he had just quit, turning it so to put some barrier between himself and the flame-haired virago bearing down on him.

She leaped onto the chair in her frenzy to get at the man who had scorned her. Regnet dodged to one side, barely escaping her raking nails. The chair, no longer supported, crashed onto its back and sent Myrna tumbling over it and onto the floor.

She rolled toward the hearth but was on her feet with an agility that a traveling juggler might envy, brandishing an iron poker in a determined, two-handed grip.

Regnet backed away, tripping over the upended chair. “Munson!” he roared.

The halfling steward appeared in the doorway, wringing his hands. “I tried to warn you, sir,” he began.

His next words were lost in Myrna’s shriek as she took a mighty swing. Regnet leaned away from the blow, but the tip of the poker traced a sooty path across the front of his shirt. On the back swing, Myrna fetched him a glancing blow to the head. Encouraged by this success, she came on, shrieking like a banshee and flailing the poker with all the verve, if none of the skill, of an elven bladesinger.

Danilo settled back on his heels, folded his arms, and considered Regnet’s dilemma. If Myrna had been a man–or for that matter, a woman trained in the fighting arts—Regnet could have settled the matter in a swift contest. Propriety forbade him to mishandle a gentlewoman. Even using force to subdue her was skirting the line. To all appearances, subduing Myrna would not be an easy matter. She bolstered this suspicion by smacking Regnet in the gut with enough force to double him over.