The Dream Spheres

It was a well-equipped study, octagonal in shape. Neat rows of vials and boxes and pots filled the shelves that lined four of the walls. Several small tables had been clustered about. These had been overturned in the struggle, their contents tossed onto the polished stone floor. A faint, acrid scent, like that left by a hundred bolts of lightning, lingered in the air—evidence that defensive magic had been cast. However, there was no sign of the tren, or of the wizard who had fought him.

Arilyn's eyes were sharper. She strode forward and kicked away some of the debris. "Look at this," she said in a grim voice, pointing.

He came forward and swallowed hard. A severed human hand lay on the ground, palm up, fingers curved as if in a final gesture of supplication.

"It's a sign," the half-elf explained in a flat, even voice. "Tren eat their victims, unless their employer wishes to leave a warning or message. Then they leave a single hand or foot."

"There is a ring on the hand," Danilo pointed out.

She prodded the grisly thing with her boot, turning it over. The hand was pale as bleached bone and slightly freckled. A few red hairs on the lower finger joints stood out starkly against the pallor. The ring was gold, and on the rose-colored quartz was engraved a small, leaping flame surrounded by a circle of seven stars.

"Mystra's symbol," Arilyn commented. "That accounts for the wizard."

The ring was familiar. Danilo crouched down for a better look. He gingerly found the clasp and opened the hidden compartment. As he'd expected, the outline of a wizard's tall-peaked hat was engraved into the i

He stood up. "I recall what you told me of last night's overheard conversation. It would appear that Maskar Wands was more right than he knew when he named the dream spheres as dangerous toys."

When Arilyn sent him an inquiring look, he pointed to the severed hand. "That is—or strictly speaking, was—Oth Eltorchul."

Five

A premonition raced through Arilyn like a winter chill, or the shadow of a passing ghost. "You think Oth Eltorchul was killed for the dream spheres?"

"In all truth, I wouldn't lay odds one way or another," Dan responded. "Remember, I knew the man. He might just as well have incurred the wrath of a former student or a fellow mage, but it is possible, yes."

"Everyone at that meeting I overheard last night was opposed to the sale of dream spheres. Perhaps one of them hired the tren. Find out who was there, and we've got a place to start looking."

Danilo folded his arms and scowled. "Wait a minute. A place to start? You intend to go after the killer?"

"Don't you?"

"I fail to see how this fits any definition of service to the elven people."

"Maybe not." She shrugged. "Nonetheless, one way or another I might not have a choice."

He gave her a keen look. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"No." She began to pace, picking her way through the clutter. "I can't make sense of this. At first I assumed that the tren attack at the Gemstone Ball was directed against Elaith. But I was there first, and then the same tren showed up at my lodging house. It is possible that second attack was the tren's vendetta—I killed a couple of his clan, I wounded him—but it's also possible that I, not Elaith, was his original target." She blew out a long breath. "There's another possibility. As you pointed out, the markings that led us here to this tower room seemed a little too convenient."

Danilo looked puzzled, so Arilyn reluctantly continued. "It's well known that some assassins occasionally work with tren. The tren provide muscle as well as a means of disposing of the body. You know my reputation. Some people might ask why I just happened to be the first one on hand after a tren attack. The Eltorchul clan is going to want to know the answer to that."

His face clouded. "Surely you have left those rumors behind at last! I have not heard anyone speak of you as an assassin for years."

"Nor would you," she retorted. "Yet I don't imagine that even now your peers are eager to accept me into their midst!"

"Only because you're half-elven," he said heatedly. A look of utter mortification crossed his face as he realized what he had said.

Arilyn quickly turned away, before any reaction of hers could add to Dan's regret. She understood the implications of their friendship in the young nobleman's world, probably far better than he did. To forestall any further discussion, she began kicking at the debris with more force and fervor than the task required.

After the first moments, Arilyn became genuinely absorbed by the puzzle before her. She began to circle the octagonal room, studying the chaos in search of some small pattern.

The wizard's tables had been overturned, and shards of pottery lay scattered on the floor along with a variety of weird spell components that Arilyn could not begin to name. Oddly enough, none of the shelves had been disturbed by the struggle, as if the mage had deliberately avoided damaging any of the contents. That seemed to fly against logic, but Arilyn had heard of people who protected their possessions more fiercely than their own lives.

"What is the worth of all that?" she asked, pointing to the orderly shelves.

Danilo's gaze swept across the rows of glass and silver bottles, carved wooden boxes, and carefully stacked scrolls. "Almost beyond estimation," he admitted. "This is a most impressive study."

"Worth dying for?"

"I wouldn't say so. Oth might have. I see your point, though. This was an unusual struggle. Another thing puzzles me: there is far less blood than one might expect."

"Not unusual for tren attacks," Arilyn corrected. "They're ... tidy. They also feed with astonishing speed. On the other hand, it is possible that Oth died elsewhere and that his hand was left here for someone to find."

"That someone being you." Danilo frowned. "I am finding more to dislike about this situation by the moment, but we ca

Arilyn had no desire to seek out the rogue elf, but she could see the sense in that. She nodded toward the one door that led out of the room and drew her sword. "The tren is long gone, but we might not be able to leave this place without meeting opposition."

"One moment." He took a carved wooden box from the shelf, emptied the dried herbs it contained onto the floor, and then, to her astonishment, pushed the disembodied hand into it. He carefully fastened the clasp and then tucked the box under one arm.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"It is better that I turn this matter over to the Watch than you," he explained. "After all, I once studied with the Eltorchul family, and I could contrive a reason for entering Oth's tower. No one need hear of your presence here."

Arilyn started to protest, but she recognized the implacably stubborn expression in her friend's eyes. She turned and walked toward the door. "Good thing you're giving up that Lord's helm," she muttered. "I wouldn't call this upholding the laws of the city."

"You haven't actually broken any, have you? Recently?"

"I just got here," she said with a bit of grim humor.

"Well, then," he said, his tone suggesting that the matter had been settled.

She led the way down a winding stairs into the main hall. The building that supported the wizard's tower was small, just a center hall with a few rooms to either side for servants and household functions. There was no sign of anyone in the building, and they slipped out into the courtyard without challenge.

Since they had come that far, Arilyn deemed it safe to begin the search for Oth's killer. She nodded toward the carriage shed, from whence drifted a faint murmur of sound. Tucking away her sword, she went to inquire.