Elfshadow

She shrugged. "It happens."

"That's hardly an i

Arilyn looked at him strangely. "Tintagel Ni'Tessine is an elf."

"Wait a minute." Danilo held up one hand, and he appeared to be thoroughly puzzled. "Did I miss something?"

"He's a gold elf. I'm a moon elf, and a half-elf at that," she admitted grudgingly. "You didn't know that there are several races of elves?"

"Well, yes. I've just never realized that there might be significant differences."

That remark, so typical from humans, jolted Arilyn. "Why am I not surprised?" she said so harshly that Danilo blinked in surprise.

Her hostage could not know that her ma

Danilo, however, did not seem to be put out by her abrupt change of mood. "You share my passion for fine gems, I see."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

With a smug little smile, he pointed to her sword. "That stone in the hilt. It's a topaz, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. Why?"

"Oh, I'm just curious. The sword itself looks quite old, but the stone is cut in a modern fashion."

Arilyn gaped at him for a moment. "That's a remarkable observation."

"Not at all," he disclaimed modestly. "As I mentioned, I have a passion for precious stones, and I know a few things about them. See the way the tiny facets curl around the base of the gem, leading up like a honeycomb to a large flat surface? That style started becoming popular only about, say, fifty years ago."

"I'll have to take your word on that," she said. "But you're right: the stone is fairly new."

"The original was lost, I take it? What kind of stone was it? "

"A moonstone."

"Semi-precious white stone, often flecked with blue. Natural conduits for magic," Danilo recited in a learned tone. "Why was it replaced with a topaz?"

Arilyn shrugged. "When I started training, my teacher had the new stone made to balance the hilt."

"Not many teachers give that much attention to detail… or to their students for that matter." He gri

"I was," Arilyn said warmly. "To study with Kymil Nimesin was a great opportunity, and-" She broke off suddenly.

"And?"

Arilyn just shrugged. Damn it all, she thought angrily, I'm doing it again. This man would have her life history from her before she could be rid of him.

Most distressing to her was the inexplicable tug of camaraderie, the tiny seedling of friendship that was growing between her and this stranger-this shallow, foolish, overdressed human. Like a talisman, she deliberately brought to mind an image of Rafe Silverspur. The reminder of what could happen to those close to her strengthened her resolve to keep herself firmly apart.

Again Danilo Tha

Arilyn rose and kicked the bright embers of Danilo's fire into ash. "Get some sleep," she said curtly, keeping her back to the man. "We leave before daybreak."

Seven

Arilyn shook her hostage awake while it was still dark.

"Whazzat?" Danilo sat up abruptly, staring bleary-eyed into the grim face of the half-elf until his vision focused. "Oh. Hello there. I suppose it's time for my watch?"

"Time to leave," she said flatly.

"Oh. If you say so." Danilo struggled to his feet and stretched, shifting this way and that and wincing as he worked out some stiff spots. "Where are we going?"

"Waterdeep."

"Oh, marvelous," he said, brightening. "We can probably catch up with one of the merchant trains within a few days and-"

"No," she broke in quietly.

"No?" Danilo looked puzzled, stopping in mid-stretch. "Whyever not?"

Arilyn explained with the patience usually afforded a rather slow child. "A very skillful tracker has been following me. I was headed west when he lost me. I'm assuming he knows my routes and habits well enough to consider Waterdeep my logical destination. He is likely to take the most common route, the trade route. If we were to travel with a merchant train, he could easily catch up."

"Ah. Never overlook the obvious," Danilo commented, nodding sagely.

"Something like that," Arilyn admitted. "So we'll take the northern route."

The dandy shook his head and sputtered in disbelief, "Surely you jest. The northern route? As in, troll country? I'll have you know I detest trolls. Utterly."

"Don't worry. We'll skirt the High Moors."

"No trolls?"

"No trolls." Danilo still looked distressed, so Arilyn elaborated. "It's riskier than the southern trade route, but we'll get to Waterdeep faster. Also, we pass through open country. If my guess is wrong and someone is still trying to track us, we'll see them as soon as they see us." She thought it best not to tell the nervous dandy that she would actually prefer such a confrontation, and she paused before dropping the other boot. "And another thing. We'll save more time if we cut through the bottom lip of the marsh."

Danilo caught his breath and held up both hands in a gesture of protest. "The marsh? We're talking about the Marsh of Chelimber, I assume? We are. Well, no thank you. I think I'll just take my horse and head south, if it's all the same to you."

Arilyn had anticipated this reaction. "I'm sorry," she told him firmly, "but you're going to come with me."

He sighed with resignation, then smirked. "I do grow on people, don't I?"

"Hardly. I need to reach Waterdeep and disappear without alerting the assassin. But," she added pointedly, "if I let you loose along the merchant route, you would sing this song to anyone who would listen, and I'll be back where I started."

Danilo considered her argument for a brief moment, then nodded. "All right," he said agreeably. He started to stuff his belongings back into his magic sack.

His ready compliance surprised Arilyn. "You agree? Just like that?"

Still packing, he arched an eyebrow at her. "Do I have much choice in the matter?"

"No."

"Well then, no sense in whining about things you can't change, is there?" he concluded cheerfully. He picked up the last item-a silver flask-and took a bracing pull at it before he slipped it into the sack. Thus fortified, he rose and faced Arilyn.

"There. Packing's done. I say, do you think you could catch us something for breakfast? Anything at all? At this point I could eat a pickled wyvern. And while you hunt, I'll just freshen up a tad. Not that we're likely to meet anyone from polite society along the route you've chosen, but one can't travel looking like leftovers from a gnoll's feast, can one?"

Danilo's gaze swept over Arilyn, who was clad for travel in boots and trousers, a simple blue tunic over her loose shirt, and her dark cloak. "By the way," he added casually, with an obvious and exaggerated attempt at diplomacy, "that outfit is very… well, it's certainly very practical. It looks comfortable, really! For whatever it's worth, I vastly prefer the clothes you wore at the i