The Dream Spheres

"Foxfire," she said without hesitation. "He was the war leader of the western clan. He was, and remains, a true friend."

That was hard to hear, and full of possibilities he hardly dared to explore. "You have returned to the forest more than once," he said tentatively.

'That's right. I have responsibilities."

A painful thought occurred to him. "Is there a child?"

Her eyes turned dark with surprise and outrage. "Do you think I would forget to mention such a thing? Or perhaps you envision me slinking at midnight into a home for unwed mercenaries?"

Had he been in a brighter frame of mind, he would have found that incongruous image amusing. "True enough. Accept my apologies—this revelation has left me somewhat distraught." He considered that, then added with a faint, pained smile, "That might well be the most masterful understatement I have ever contrived."

"Let's discuss that." The half-elf rose and faced him down. "I have lived forty years and more, hard years, for the most part. Did you expect to find me an untried maiden?"

"Well ..."

"I see. And should I assume from this that you have followed a paladin's code?"

"Hardly." He sighed, struggling to explain what certainly did seem to be a code written on both sides of the parchment. "It would have been easier for me to shrug aside a score of lovers, had they been human."

She threw up her hands. "That's ridiculous!"

"Is it? When you left for the forest, you and I were bound in a form of elven rapport through the magic of your sword. When you returned, you swore your heart was mine. Yet your first allegiance was to the forest elves, and you kept from me this secret. What am I to think?"

Exasperation edged onto her face. "Would it have helped if I had spoken of this at once?"

"Probably not," he admitted. He hesitated for a moment as he sifted through the jumble of his emotions. "Forgive me. I desired change, and over the past two days the fates seem hell-bent on granting this wish. I just learned that there is elven blood in my family, courtesy of our dear archmage. This was no small revelation and means more to me than I can begin to express, but as I consider these new developments, I fear that the wine is too well watered."

Comprehension edged into her eyes, then disbelief. "Do I hear you correctly? You fear comparison with an elf?"

"That is putting it rather baldly," he said, wincing a bit at how foolish that made him sound. "Let me try to do a little better. I know how elves regard the half-elven. I have known you for more than six years and have seen how this pained you. In one part of my heart, I am truly happy that you have found the acceptance and community that you sought among the elven folk, but like most lovers, I have a certain selfish interest in this."

He sighed. "Therein lies the dilemma. Knowing you as I do, I wonder if you can be truly happy with a human man."

Arilyn was long in answering. She rose and began to prowl about the room, as if action was required to spur thought. "Happiness," she said slowly. "I have heard many people speak this word, and never once did I understand what they meant. Nor did they, I suspect. Notions of endless peace and bliss and ease, or some such."

His lips quirked in a faint smile. "You speak as if you were describing one of the lower reaches of the Abyss."

"I'm a warrior," she stated simply. "My mother put a wooden sword in my hand as soon as I could stand, and steel not long after. I never thought in terms of ease and comfort and so forth. But this much I know: I would rather fight with you than any other."

He regarded her for a long moment. "With me, or along side me?"

A smile rippled across her lips. "Both, I suppose. Will that content you?"

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the delicate white fingers as he ran the pad of his thumb over the warrior's calluses on her palm. "That strikes me as a better measure of happiness than any man—or elf, for that matter—has right to expect!"

* * * * *

Their first fight was not long in coming. They hailed another carriage, and all the way to the Eltorchul manor, Arilyn argued against the course Danilo seemed determined to follow. A sudden squall, common during the changing season, swept in from the sea as they rolled westward. The pounding of rain and the grumbling thunder kept counterpoint to their argument.

"Oth Eltorchul is dead," she stated finally. "His spirit has gone to whatever afterlife his days have earned. Who are you to disturb that?"

"Who am I to make such a decision, one way or another?" he retorted. "That belongs to the Eltorchul family. At any rate, they must be told of their kinsman's fate."

She cast a dark look at the box Danilo had placed on the carriage floor between them. "Is that how you intend to make this a

"Credit me with some small measure of sense! Certainly you must admit that once the tale is told, they have every right to this box. Even if they do not elect to seek resurrection, they will want to inter Oth's remains. The Eltorchul family has a tomb in the City of the Dead—quite an impressive one, I hear: a dimensional door, leading into their private catacombs. I suppose they'd need it," he mused. "They are a large family, with a rather high rate of tragedy. A hazard, I suppose, of being in the business of magical research and mage schooling. Now that I think of it, some of my early tutors had rather close calls. Did I ever tell you about the time Athol's beard caught fire from the lighted ink I created?"

She silenced him with a glare, then turned to regard the passing city. The Eltorchul family, like many of Waterdeep's nobility, had more than one property in the city and probably several outside the city walls. Their hired carriage took them through the Sea Ward, the wealthiest and most sought after district of the city.

Arilyn seldom had reason to come here, and she carefully marked the byways and buildings in her mind. The streets were broad and paved with smooth, dressed stone. Lining them were tall walls, behind which lay lavish estates or temple complexes. Towers rose against the clouds. Many were so fanciful in design that they could only have been contrived and sustained by magic. Turrets, balconies, and gables decked the heights. Gargoyles kept stony-eyed watch over the city. Bright ba

"This ward will soon be all but deserted," Danilo commented after a few moments of silence. "There's a promise of winter in that wind."

Arilyn nodded glum assent. Her spirits sank still further as they turned off Morningstar Way and the Eltorchul tower came into view.

The elaborate structure defined the easternmost corner of the narrow street known as The Ghost Walk. Even without the name—and without her own wariness of human magic—Arilyn felt distinctly chilled as she eyed the unca

Towers of mist-gray stone rose into the sky, most of them co

As they alighted from the carriage, Arilyn noted that the stone walk near the front gate was as blackened as if it had entertained a hundred campfires—or a few bolts of lightning.

"So much for unwanted guests," Danilo murmured as he reached for the bellpull.

A dark-ski