Elfshadow

Elaith completed the ceremony and handed the goblet to Arilyn. She drank it slowly, with proper respect, then inclined her head to the quessir in a ritual bow of thanks that completed the ceremony.

With an imperious gesture, Elaith summoned a waiter. "Another goblet, if you please," he instructed the young man. As an afterthought, Elaith turned back to Danilo. "Or perhaps two more? Will you have some Elverquisst as well?"

"Thank you, I prefer zzar," Danilo said.

"Of course you do," Elaith said smoothly. "A goblet of that ubiquitous beverage for our young friend, then, and di

"Now," Elaith said to Arilyn, "what brings you to Waterdeep? The Feast of the Moon, I would suppose? You're here to enjoy the festival?"

"Yes, the festival," she agreed, thinking it the most harmless response.

"An interesting affair. Raucous, gaudy, but undeniably colorful enough to draw a crowd. Like this i

Arilyn looked to Danilo for an answer. "Were you able to get rooms here?"

"Room," Danilo corrected a bit sheepishly. "One room. The place is full up."

One room, Arilyn thought with dismay. Another night with Danilo Tha

"That would be the bad news of which you spoke, I imagine," the elf observed wryly.

"Strange you should find it so," Danilo countered mildly, apparently misunderstanding the gibe. "Sharing a room with a beautiful woman doesn't strike me as a hardship."

"The etriel," Elaith corrected pointedly, observing Arilyn's silent fury over Danilo's suggestive remark, "does not seem to share your enthusiasm."

"Oh, but she does. It's just that, you know, Arilyn is the very soul of discretion," Danilo confided, man-to-man.

At that moment the waiter returned with their drinks. Arilyn snatched the goblet of zzar from his tray and thunked it down in front of Danilo.

"Drink this," she suggested sweetly, "and several others. I'm buying."

Taking up the other goblet, Arilyn plunged into the half-remembered ceremony of pouring and offering the Elverquisst. If Elaith found anything amiss in her rendering of the ritual, he did not speak of it. The ritual brought a much-needed change of direction to the conversation, which turned to local gossip, politics and-this being Waterdeep, after all-commerce.

Despite his promise to remain a bardic observer, Danilo continued to verbally spar with the quessir. The nobleman scored a good number of hits, any one of which, coming from any other man, could have been considered grounds for a challenge. Elaith let the gibes pass without comment. He really could not do otherwise, for Danilo's barbs, if such they were, were issued with such friendly delicacy that responding with anger would seem as ludicrous as swatting at soap bubbles.

Arilyn sipped her drink, silently taking the measure of her strange di

"Ah, di

The waiters lay several dishes on the tables: roasted meat, several small fowl still sizzling on a spit, turnips, boiled greens, and small loaves warm from the oven.

The moon elf studied the simple fare with patrician distaste. "I'm afraid this is the best the i

"It is fine. After the rigors of travel, simple food is the best," Arilyn assured him.

She and Danilo tucked in. The meal seemed to improve Danilo's mood even more. Disgustingly cheerful, he again engaged Elaith Craulnobur in conversation, relishing the verbal give and take in the same way a swordsman enjoys a good match.

Too bone-weary to take part in the sparring, Arilyn nevertheless kept a keen eye on the room as she ate, alert for anything that might prove a clue in her search. There was some talk of the Harper Assassin drifting about, and even in this safe haven the patrons seemed u

"Branded, she was, branded right on her haunch like a prize cow…"

"They say that assassin got past the guard in Waterdeep Castle and…"

"Now me, if I was a Harper, right about now I'd be melting that pin down and recasting the metal for a chamber pot."

Arilyn learned nothing of value from the fragments of conversation, but she noted with dismay how the tales of the Harper Assassin had grown in the telling.

A smattering of applause began in one corner, spreading until it competed with the hum of conversation. Chairs were scraped across the floor to make way in the middle of the room. Two of the waiters brought in a large harp, setting it down in the center of the makeshift stage. A tall, slender man walked diffidently to the harp and began to correct the instrument's tuning.

"Ah, now we shall hear from a true bard," Elaith noted pointedly.

Danilo craned his neck around, taking in the scene in the middle of the tavern. "Really? Who is he?"

"Rhys Ravenwind," Arilyn said. She recognized the bard from one of her trips to Suzail. Although the man was young and rather shy, he was very good indeed.

"Hmm. I wonder if he might be up for a duet or two, after the-ouch!" Danilo broke off with a reproachful look at Arilyn, then he bent down to rub the spot where she had kicked his shin.

Arilyn responded by putting her finger to her lips. The gesture was hardly necessary. After the first few notes, every person in the room fell silent, held spellbound by the power of the bard's music. Those who had come only to worship the art of the brewers listened as intently, as delightedly, as the most devoted music lover. It was customary for a visiting musician to sing at any i

During the second song, a wistful ballad of long-ago love and adventure, a newcomer drifted into the tavern. He paused in the doorway for a moment as he sought a place, then he moved noiselessly across the room and settled at a corner table near Arilyn.

The half-elf noted the man's entrance and studied him with carefully concealed interest. Probably one of the tallest men in the room, he nonetheless moved with the silent grace of a cat. As were most travelers, the man was wrapped against the chill autumn wind. Unlike most, the man did not remove cape or cowl when he entered the warm tavern. His table sat in the shadows just beyond the fireplace's glow, and he kept his cape closely drawn. Considering the warmth of the room, Arilyn found this behavior peculiar indeed.

A barmaid brought the new-comer a mug of mead, and, as he tipped his head up to drink it, Arilyn caught a glimpse of his face. He was a man well past middle life, obviously robust despite his years. His features were ordinary enough, except for the unusually determined set to his square jaw. It seemed to Arilyn that there was something familiar about the man, although she would swear by the whole pantheon of gods that she had never laid eyes on him before.