The Dream Spheres

The elf watched him go, then turned to the Eagle Riders. "Watch him," he said in a low voice. "I know that man. Trouble follows close on his heels."

"He seems a buffoon," remarked Garelith, "but I will defer to your judgment. You know the clouds that gather around this particular mountain, and I trust you'll warn us of a coming storm."

This led to the next, more difficult warning Elaith felt obligated to deliver. "That will not be possible. You would do well not to be seen with me."

All four of the Eagle Riders looked puzzled. "Why?" demanded the one with eyes the color of topaz.

Elaith's smile held a self-mocking edge. "You will learn soon enough."

Before the young elves could press him, Elaith turned and walked away. Their exuberant adulation appalled him. At this moment, he would welcome almost any other company, so long as they regarded him with a proper, familiar mixture of fear and respect.

"Stones!" exclaimed a deep, gruff voice, with a vehemence that turned the word into a curse.

"A dwarf," muttered Elaith wearily. How could this day possibly get any worse?

"You mean to tell me we have to fly out west?" demanded the dwarf.

"A winged horse," said a persuasive female voice. "You're always saying there's nothing on four legs you can't ride."

Elaith whirled toward the familiar voice, and his scowl deepened. He knew of that woman—Bronwyn was a merchant with a refreshingly devious streak. Though he was interested in making her acquaintance, this was hardly the time. He was even less pleased to learn that she had acquired a dwarven traveling companion.

This dwarf was a particularly squat, square fellow. An abundance of auburn curls rioted about his broad shoulders, and a long red beard spilled over his chest. His upper lip had been shaved, and his blue eyes were stormy. A horseshoe hung on a thong about his neck. The dwarf fingered his horseshoe as if laying claim to Bronwyn's words concerning his riding abilities.

"Nothing on four legs," he repeated. "That's true enough, if'n those four legs got solid ground beneath them!"

Bronwyn cast a glance up at the sky, then turned a crooked grin upon her companion. "Clouds look pretty thick today."

The dwarf snorted derisively.

"Look, Ebenezer," she said in the tones of one who had finished with persuasion, "I have business in Silverymoon. You can come or stay, as you please."

"Who said anything about staying?" the dwarf demanded. He pointed a stubby finger at an untethered pegasus. "That one's a spare, most likely. Got my eye on him."

The dwarf ambled off, a lump of maple sugar in one stubby fist. Bronwyn watched him go, and her sweeping gaze settled upon Elaith. After a moment of hesitation she poured wine from a flask into wooden cups and held out one to him in invitation.

Elaith approached and accepted the cup. "Are you always so generous to strangers?"

Her grin was quick and dagger-sharp. "Oh, I know you, at least, as well as I could be expected to. You're Elaith Craulnober, and you seem to own an inordinately large chunk of Waterdeep." She raised her cup in salute.

Amused, he drank to her toast. "Your name is known to me, as well. I take it you will also be traveling with the caravan?"

"One last trip to Silverymoon before winter sets in." She used her cup to point toward a small man with a pointed beard and a wan, wasted countenance. "That's Mizzen Doar—or what's left of him! Looks a bit worse for wear, doesn't he? He has been making the rounds of the harvest festivals, or so I hear. From the looks of him, a clan of rampaging kobolds is better for your health than a nobleman's party."

That brought a wry smile to the elf's face. He had heard that Bronwyn had a warm yet forthright ma

"As well as I need to. He deals in crystals and other minor gemstones."

"So do others," he prodded, "some closer to home than Silverymoon."

"True enough, but none who can touch the variety that Mizzen carries in his shop." She glanced around to see if any were within hearing distance before continuing. "Appearances are important in this city," she said dryly. "Even during times of declining fortunes, no one wants to part with jewelry, so they keep their baubles, but sell the individual stones as needed—"

"—And replace them with crystal," Elaith concluded.

Bronwyn merely shrugged again, as if she found the matter a bit too distasteful for direct words. The elf could understand that, and he also saw the potential for profit in such endeavors—especially for a woman whose first trade had been creating counterfeit copies of coins and jewelry.

He could not help but wonder whether Bronwyn had another agenda. He hoped it was not too similar to his own. In his own way, he rather liked the woman. Elaith genuinely hoped that he could tend to the business at hand without killing her.

"Stones!" erupted the dwarf. "I've a mind to be biting you back, you long-legged excuse for a pigeon!"

The elf cast a glance toward the uproar. Ebenezer was shaking one hand and glaring at the pegasus he'd been trying to befriend. The winged horse munched sugar, then let out a delicate whi

Elaith adjusted his thinking. He still hoped that Bronwyn could emerge from this journey unscathed; on the other hand, he would welcome a chance to reduce Waterdeep's dwarf population by at least one.

"Your . . . companion seems to have met his match," Elaith observed.

This set Bronwyn off into merry laughter. "You're more right than you know. Those two will be firm friends within the hour. The worse-tempered the horse, the more fond Ebenezer is likely to become of it."

"A risky thing," the elf mused, not without pleasure. "One must be able to trust a mount under any circumstances. Pegasi fly high and are notoriously skittish."

Bronwyn's smile didn't falter, but the warmth drained from her eyes. "No friend of mine falls but I do my best to catch him."

Their gazes locked for a moment, unspoken challenges made, met, and countered. Elaith broke first, instinctively making the small, subtle hand gesture used between elves under such circumstance—a proud but gracious gesture that was part apology, part acknowledgment of a battle averted.

"D'rie

Before the startled elf could respond, she turned and ambled over to her dwarf friend.

Elaith's first thought was chagrin over his unconscious lapse into old patterns. The encounter with the Eagle Riders had apparently affected him more than he knew. Bronwyn's display of knowledge troubled him, though, especially considering the real focus of his journey. Was it possible she knew about the elven gem and was giving him fair warning that they sought the same prize?

If so, some might consider it a gesture worthy of an elven adventurer. Obviously Bronwyn had made a study of the cultures whose artifacts she sought. Elaith observed the woman as she stood at ease, stroking the pegasus and nodding with tongue-in-cheek sympathy over Ebenezer's continued rants.

She did not lack for courage or style. It would be a shame to kill this woman. Elaith raised his wooden cup to her in silent salute—and probable farewell.

* * * * *

The squall had blown itself out by the time Arilyn and Danilo left the Eltorchul manor. The gate swung open of its own accord. The couple hurried out into the street, instinctively skirting the blackened walk with the same cautious respect that prompted cemetery ramblers not to tread upon a grave.

"You actually studied with the Eltorchul mages? How could you stand spending time in that place?" Arilyn demanded.