The Dream Spheres

"Her jewelry looks the same as ever," observed one of the women, eyeing the emerald pendant that nestled in the hollow of Galinda's throat.

"What would you expect? Even the faux pieces are fine work—if you consider counterfeiting an art." Myrna paused to give weight to her next words. "Apparently the Ilzimmer family does."

She glanced up at Dan's approach, and a shimmer of malicious delight crossed her face. "Lord Tha

The emphasis she gave to the final word held a nasty insinuation. Of what, Danilo was not certain. He pasted a bland smile on his face. "Actually, I have come to inquire on that very matter. What more do you know than is commonly spoken?"

The woman cocked her bright head and considered him as a horse trader might size up a plow nag for possible resale. "I hear that this year's spiced winterfest wine will be extraordinary. Ten bottles would be a reasonable exchange."

Myrna's companions frowned, clearly displeased by this blatant display of commerce at a social event. They withdrew with frosty little bows and flittered off to spread tales of their own.

"Strange that you should be seeking answers from me," Myrna purred, clearly enjoying herself. "There are others who could tell you for a smaller fee, or none at all. I do not complain, mind you."

Danilo was in no mood to spar. "For a simple answer, speedily delivered, you might expect an extra bottle."

The woman pouted. "Oh, very well. The favored rumors suggest that the theft was the work of insiders. The bandits were too well and ca

This news was disturbing but not entirely unexpected. Whether the elf had a part in the theft or not, he would be suspected. "And Bronwyn?"

"Who?"

"The young woman who keeps The Curious Past. You have been in her shop at least a dozen times. Small woman, long brown hair, big eyes."

"Oh, her." The noblewoman's tone was dismissive, almost disdainful.

"Do you know how she fared?" Dan persisted.

Myrna shrugged, looking none too pleased to be presented with questions for which she had no answers—even if the subject of inquiry was nothing but a common little shopkeeper. "Ask the elf. He was there."

She pointed to the far side of the room. Danilo's eyes widened as they settled on a tall, slender figure clad in deep purple and silver. Elaith had chosen an elaborate costume of an era long past, worn by elves and humans alike in the ancient courts of Tethyr. Either the elf was being unusually diplomatic or his costume was the equivalent of a green cloak in the forest—an attempt to blend in. Many wore the purple of Tethyr in Haedrak's honor.

Danilo made his way across to the elf as quickly as he could navigate the crowd. "You have had an eventful trip, I hear," he began.

The elf gave him a faint, mocking smile. "Let us dispense with the usual pleasantries and get to the meat of the matter. When I left Bronwyn, she was in good health, if poor company. She is a most resourceful young woman. Most resourceful," he added with rueful emphasis.

Danilo was begi

"And a new Harper," the elf said. "Spare me the sophistry. I am watched by the Harpers and others. This is nothing new. Whether you had a hand in Bronwyn's task or not, I neither know nor care. Either way, I'm sure you are interested in the outcome."

"Well, now that you mention it."

"Both Bronwyn and I lost treasure in the raid—for which, I assure you, I was not responsible."

These statements set Danilo back on his heels. "Well, so much for the deft feint, the clever exchange of attack and parry. I am disarmed before I draw my sword."

The elf lifted one silver eyebrow. "Is that so? You accept my word on the matter so easily?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Many people would name your credulity unwise," Elaith pointed out. "Not without reason."

Danilo shrugged. That was true enough, but his instincts told him the elf had spoken truth. He was very interested to hear what Bronwyn would have to say about the encounter, but he'd had no reason to doubt Elaith's word since the day the elf had made the pledge of Elf-friend. Indeed, Elaith had been amazingly forthright—in some ways, more so than Dan himself had been. He had arranged to have Elaith followed and watched, and now he found himself on the verge of abandoning the responsibility such pledges entailed.

"There has been some little excitement here, as well," he began. In a few words he told the elf about his newfound sister. "Arilyn and I will travel east to meet her in Suzail."

Elaith studied him, his amber eyes unreadable. "Why do you tell me this?"

"Apart from making polite conversation?" he returned with a grin. His smile quickly faded. "I must confess some regret at the prospect of leaving the city. You were attacked by tren and may yet be in danger. The pledge of Elf-friend binds two ways. I am hesitant to leave while this matter is unresolved. Arilyn, even more so."

"Arilyn?" This intelligence seemed to surprise the elf. "Not on my behalf, surely?"

"Not precisely," Danilo said, though the expression on Elaith's face made him wish he could answer otherwise. "As you know, of late Arilyn's moonblade has taken to summoning her to duty. Since it has been silent for some time now, she is convinced that her duty to the People lies here in Waterdeep. Perhaps your recent misadventures have a part in that."

"That, I doubt," Elaith said lightly. "Do not consider the matter. By all means, accompany your newfound sister to Suzail. Winter in Waterdeep is often a dreary affair. You would do well to escape it."

Danilo did not miss the hint of irony in the elf's tone—and the warning. He responded to both. "Somehow, I rather doubt that this year's freeze will be without diversion."

Elaith's smile never touched his eyes, which were as golden and full of secrets as a cat's. "Yes, I daresay you could be quite right."

* * * * *

Arilyn's respect for Danilo grew as the night wore on. She doggedly worked her way through her dance card, moving from one dance partner to another and trying to learn something of value from each. She kept telling herself it was not so very different from her days as an apprentice swordmaster. The intricate dances were more easily mastered than the scores and scores of forms and routines she had practiced in her youth. Anticipating the movements of a dance partner or an entire circle was not entirely dissimilar to battle. The feint and parry of the nobles' flirtatious banter had a great deal in common with duel, and the backstabbing jabs of their subtly brutal gossip were as keen and deft as any assassin's blade. By midnight, however, Arilyn was exhausted. Her jaws ached from holding her tight, false smile—and from holding back tart comments.

That was especially difficult when it came to discussion of the Tethyr Reclamation. Arilyn was still smarting from her involvement in that country's woes. She had spent months posing as a member of the assassin's guild, learning about the country's powerful and would-be powerful by sifting through the detritus of their secret actions, their worse impulses. Her last mission for the Harpers had been the "rescue" of Isabeau Thione. The removal of a possible heir from Tethyr solidified Zaranda's claim, as well as the power of the Tethyrian nobles who supported the new queen. Arilyn had been willing to do nearly anything in support of the Harpers, but she knew far too much about the people whom the Harpers supported. Her protests had been dismissed with arguments of political expediency, safe trade routes, and important alliances. Nor did it seem to matter to anyone that Isabeau quickly proved to be just as reprehensible as the worst of Tethyrian nobility. She was feted in Waterdeep, supported in part by Harper funds. Arilyn had quit the Harpers in disgust and turned her full attention to her elven duty. Yet here she was, dancing with Tethyr's next king and exchanging light conversation with a roomful of nobles, knowing all the while that someone in the room might have ordered and paid for her death.