The Dream Spheres

That could be more of a problem than a blessing. Just last night, he had been ready to give her up rather than separate her from the magic of her elven sword. Arilyn was not sure how he would respond to the knowledge that she had known an elven love.

"It'll be fine," Bronwyn said with quiet urgency. "Dan has reason to know that lovers can become friends, content to leave the past as it was."

Arilyn looked at her with sudden comprehension. She felt no jealousy over this revelation. Even if she were so inclined, that emotion would have been an unworthy response to Bronwyn's obviously well-meaning concern. "Why do you tell me this?"

"For his own good," the woman said as she took Arilyn's hand in a sisterly clasp. "Use it if you have to. Just don't let him do anything noble and foolish."

The half-elf gave her new friend a small, wry smile. "Apparently you know that that's more easily said than done."

"What of it? Men are not put here to make our lives easy," Bronwyn a

Despite the situation, this amused the half-elf. "Any more words of advice?"

"Yes." Bronwyn nodded toward Dan, who was staring fixedly at the far wall and absently stirring through a tray of fragile coral jewelry. "Get him out of here before he breaks something."

Six

The hum and bustle of the streets enveloped Danilo and Arilyn as they left The Curious Past behind. Bronwyn's shop was not far from the market, a vast, open-air bazaar that dominated the northern end of Waterdeep's Castle Ward.

They walked in silence, weaving their way through the crowds. Usually Danilo took great pleasure in the sights and sounds of the colorful district, but today he felt as if he were walking through an illusion. His senses noted the ringing, musical cries of the street vendors, the salty warm scent of the pretzels draped over the T-shaped crook carried by a young man with a much-freckled countenance and a jaunty purple cap. He heard the loudly whispered boasts of the two small lads who leaned out from a second story window and attempted with twine and wooden hooks to snare some of the pretzels.

He led the way through the maze of shops with the surety of long experience. Over the years, Danilo had spent a great deal of time in the market. Almost everything a wealthy man could desire flowed to this place.

Merchants from up and down the Sword Coast brought wares from every corner of Faerun and from the exotic lands beyond. Craftsmen from the Trades Ward rumbled north with their wagons loaded with simple, necessary goods: barrels, tack and saddles for riding horses, iron utensils for tending fires and stirring pots. Blacksmiths, coopers, brewers, cobblers—all plied their wares in the market alongside the silks and gems of distant lands. Fragrant smoke rose with the sun as vendors and tavern keepers stoked fires in anticipation of the midday meal.

The only thing lacking, and the only thing Danilo required at present, was privacy. The answers he wished to know would be hard enough to hear under any circumstances. He could hardly shout delicate questions over the bustle of morning commerce.

He turned up Bazaar Street toward the quieter residential area. Arilyn fell into step without argument. The crowd thi

The townhouse he called home was tall, narrow, and elegant. It was tucked neatly alongside other, similar homes, most of them owned by young members of the merchant nobility. The front was finished stone, the peaked and gabled roof tiled with multicolored slate. Tall windows of many small panes, some of them colored glass, flanked the door. Decorative iron gates enclosed the small front courtyard and led into the narrow walkways on either side of the building and the garden courtyard beyond.

The tinkling song of the bellflowers drifted out to the street. Danilo's hand paused on the latch of one gate. He had intended to lead the way into the garden, which he'd spent nearly four years designing and perfecting. The elven garden was remarkable, boasting flowers that chimed with the passing of sea breezes, blue roses entwining elaborate arches. Reproductions of a pair of elven statues—the originals he had donated to the Pantheon Temple—stood in hauntingly beautiful repose beside the still waters of a small reflecting pond. It was an astonishing accomplishment and the pride of his elven gardener.

Suddenly, it seemed to Danilo to be nothing more than one of the pretentious excesses so common among his peers. If it accomplished anything at all, it would be to remind Arilyn of how broad a gap remained between him and the elven people she served.

He opened the stout oak door and tossed his hat to the waiting steward. The halfling sent his master a cautious, sidelong glance, and then walked off without offering their guest the usual refreshments.

To the left was Danilo's study, a lavish room paneled with dark Chultan teak and softened by carpets and tapestries in rich shades of crimson and cream. Magic warded the room from prying eyes and ears, ensuring complete privacy.

Arilyn followed him in and took a chair near the hearth. She settled in and turned a steady gaze upon him. "Let's get this over with."

Typically direct, but hardly the most promising begi

"Four years ago, before we parted in Zazesspur, I spoke my heart," he began. "There was no time for you to say yes or no. We were forced into separate paths: I to the High Forest and a madwoman's challenge to the Northland's bards, you to the Forest of Tethyr. When these tasks were completed, I spoke again, and you were of like mind. However, things had changed. I saw that. I did not understand how profound these changes were."

"That's apparent."

This was not the response he'd anticipated. He put down the statue and turned to face her. "Then please enlighten me."

The half-elf folded her arms and stretched her booted feet out before her. "Let's start here. Have I ever asked how you spent each of your days and nights, these past few years?"

"No, but that is different," he said firmly.

She lifted one ebony brow. "Oh? How so?"

"For one thing, the foolish games played in this city are without meaning."

"That's a good thing?"

He regarded her with faint exasperation. "Ever the sword mistress. You ca

Arilyn considered this, then gave a nod of concession. "I'll speak plainly, then. I knew what was in your heart when we parted, that's true, but I did not know my own. Until I forged a place for myself, I could not answer you yes or no. Now I have found that place."

"Among the elves."

"It was a needed thing. For most of my life, I lived and worked among humans." She touched the sheathed moonblade. "This was my only elven heritage. I always sensed that this weapon defined who I was, but I knew almost nothing about it. Everything that transpired that first summer we spent apart was part of the journey. To understand the moonblade, I had to become fully elven—if only for a short time. My time among the forest elves, including the midsummer revels, was a part of this. Without it, I would not have had the understanding of myself to know my heart."

Danilo could not refute the logic of this, but neither was it something he could easily accept. For a long moment he gazed out the study window, absently noting that the leaves were starting to take on the hues of autumn. He tried and discarded a dozen responses. The words that eventually emerged, however, were utterly unpla

"I suppose it would be ungentlemanly to ask for a name."