Elfshadow

Khelben's face was grim. "In the main, yes."

The young nobleman walked slowly to the door of the chamber. Doorknob in hand, he paused and spoke with his back still to the archmage. "With all due respect, Uncle Blackstaff, I'm not sure that I want to be your probable successor." He slipped through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

"Let's go," Danilo said to Arilyn as he descended the stairs. She rose and belted on the moonblade.

"Wait a minute, young man," Khelben called from the floor above. "You're leaving from the library, remember? The dimensional door?"

Danilo stopped at the foot of the stair, and his foolish grin was a little uncertain. "Oh. Right."

"Did you ride? Then you'll need to stable your horses here. I'll walk out with you and help you bring them around," Khelben said firmly.

When they reached the street, the archmage said, "By the way, Dan, the dimensional door from Candlekeep will not return you directly to Blackstaff Tower. You'll return to a place called Jester's Court, just off the corner of Selduth Street and the Street of Silks. The door is one-way and invisible, and it stands between the two twin black oak trees on the north side of the garden."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"I want you both to report back here before sunrise tomorrow. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Danilo answered flippantly. Without further discussion he and Arilyn led their horses to the stables behind Blackstaff Tower and returned with Khelben to the second floor library. The archmage slid a bookshelf to one side, revealing a narrow black portal where the wall should have been.

"Before we leave for Candlekeep, I have one more question," Arilyn said to the archmage. His readiness to help had raised her suspicions. Could it be that the archmage knew something about the moonblade, something that he kept from her? A test came to mind: if a minor mage like Coril could decipher some of the runes on the scabbard, surely Khelben could at least do likewise. Arilyn drew the moonblade and ran her finger along the runes. "Can you read any of these?"

Khelben leaned closer and studied the arcane marks for several moments. "No. I'm sorry."

"You do know what they say, though," she stated, her tone posing a question.

The archmage's face was inscrutable. "How could I know such a thing?" He motioned toward the portal. "Good luck on your trip."

"Thank you for your good wishes," she said in an overly sweet voice. "Since we will be traveling in the dark, we certainly have need of them."

Khelben glowered at the disrespectful and far too perceptive half-elf. She merely raised her eyebrows, took Danilo's arm, and disappeared into the velvet blackness of the dimensional gate.

The archmage smiled faintly. Arilyn is sharp, he mused as he walked down the stairs to the parlor. A flash of green caught his eye. Danilo had left a scarf behind, draped over a small portrait that rested on a table easel. Even as Khelben reached for the bright silk, it faded from sight.

"An illusion," he said softly. "That boy's getting far too good." Khelben instantly realized why the portrait had been covered. It was a sketch of four friends, one he had drawn from memory many years ago. The archmage picked up the portrait for a closer look. His own face looked back at him from the past, that of a young mage whose hairline had not yet begun its northward migration. The man beside him also had dark hair, curly and full, and implacable stubbor

Khelben gripped the portrait. Laeral sat with her hand clasped in that of her friend Amnestria. The archmage could see why Danilo did not wish Arilyn to see the pencil sketch; without the vivid difference in their coloring apparent, Amnestria and Arilyn looked so much alike that the half-elf could not have failed to recognize her mother. If she had seen the picture of the four friends, she would have surely raised questions that Khelben was not prepared to answer.

Laeral. The mage's gaze returned to the pert, smiling face of the young adventurer. It had been quite some time since he'd seen his lady. She returned to Waterdeep from time to time, and Khelben still kept chambers for her in the top floor of his tower. But Laeral had developed a taste for travel and continued a life of adventuring, and Khelben found himself trapped in Waterdeep more and more often, pursuing politics and diplomacy. Both had become powerful mages, both worked with the Harpers. There was no real quarrel between them. How then, Khelben mused, could it be that they were drifting apart?

The archmage found himself pondering Danilo's angry words. How much had he himself sacrificed on the altar of a noble cause? Even for a man who strove for self knowledge, it was a disturbing thought.

In his villa not far from Blackstaff Tower, Kymil Nimesin leaned back from his scrying crystal. His angular face showed deep concern. Perhaps he should have heeded Elaith Craulnobur's warning concerning Danilo Tha

Even if the young nobleman was indeed the fool he appeared to be, he had led Arilyn to Khelben Arunsun. Of all those co

"Filauria, summon the mercenary team."

The lovely etriel at Kymil's side went without question to do his bidding. Soon she returned, leading a contingent of human adventurers from the chambers where they had awaited Kymil's summons, swilling ale and playing dice.

For a long moment, Kymil regarded the men whom Elaith Craulnobur had recommended for the task. They were led by Harvid Beornigarth, an uncouth one-eyed giant of a man. The unfortunate result of a barbarian rampage, Harvid owed his size to his father's race and his eye patch to Arilyn Moonblade. The fighter's huge arms were knotted with muscle, and he was known to wield his spike-studded mace with skill. The four men with Harvid were equally strong and unkempt, to all appearances a wild and formidable force. They were precisely what Kymil needed.

"Well, Harvid, it seems that you shall finally have the opportunity to avenge the loss of your eye," Kymil began, steepling his fingers in a gesture of satisfaction.

The man hefted his mace in anticipation. "Where is the gray wench?" he snarled.

"Let us hope your skills match your enthusiasm," Kymil said dryly. "Your chance will come before the sun rises again. Behold."

Kymil waved his fingers over the scrying crystal and an image of a garden courtyard appeared. A few people wandered about, enjoying the bright autumn morning. "This is Jester's Square. Do you know it? Good. The half-elf and her companion, Danilo Tha

Kymil looked up at the mercenaries, his face grim. "And you will kill them both." A gasp of surprise came from the elven female who stood attentively behind the armsmaster's chair.

Harvid Beornigarth had his own doubts. He grimaced and scratched at his eye patch with a large, grimy finger.

"Is there a problem?" Kymil asked calmly.