The City of Splendors

"You set that ready-slayer on me? To what purpose?"

"Obviously not your demise." Elaith inspected his nails. "If I wanted you dead, I'd hardly be standing here enduring this fine weather and the pleasure of your company."

"I asked you a question!"

"I'd noticed as much," Elaith said smoothly, "but you've won time enough to consider my proposal. Have we a bargain?"

"We do not." Beldar gave Elaith a hard stare, proving he was either braver than most men or far more foolish. "What's done is done. I'll take responsibility for my deeds, but I'll make no further alliance with evil."

Elaith didn't bother to hide his amusement. It was rather gratifying to be so clearly and swiftly understood. Mildly entertaining, even, if not quite worth climbing all those steps.

"I did not fail to notice, young Lord Roaringhorn, that you spoke of 'further alliance.' If you should find yourself too deeply mired in whatever evil you now enjoy, do not hesitate to call on me."

Beldar's mouth set in a thin line. "I thank you for your offer, Lord Craulnober, but I must decline."

The Serpent's reply was a small, slightly mocking bow followed by smooth departure.

The wind was rising as he hurried down the mountain. He might yet have use for young Roaringhorn, who seemed to be growing into the sort of human destined for great things-provided, of course, he didn't get himself killed first.

The boy had surprised him. He'd expected insults, and heard none. Nor had Roaringhorn tried to turn aside blame, seeming determined to face the consequences of slaying the halfling. The bleak determination to "do the right thing" was written across his face. Yes, Beldar Roaringhorn was that a

Waterdeep held so human-gods-be-damned much of it.

The Dyres' old red rooster was still lustily greeting the dawn as Lark hurried into the garden. His feathered harem fluttered to greet her, eager for their morningfeast.

Lark frowned as she flapped her skirts to chase them off. Naoni should have fed them and gathered the eggs by now. What had befallen this time?

She hastened into the kitchen to find Naoni on the floor, face in her hands and slender shoulders shaking. Faendra knelt beside her, arms wrapped comfortingly around her weeping sister, and a somber-faced halfling stood over them cradling a tankard of ale. Even in distress, Naoni was ever the hostess.

Faendra looked up at Lark, her blue eyes sharp, almost accusing. "One of Naoni's hin guards has gone missing. He'd been… following someone. Beldar Roaringhorn."

"Mother of all gods," Lark murmured feelingly, going to her knees to clasp Naoni's hands. "Much as I dislike the man, I didn't think him the sort to do murder! I'm sorry, Mistress, truly. However this unfolds, 'twill be hard on Lord Korvaun."

"Harder still if Beldar's killed." Naoni's eyes filled again. "He shouldn't have struck you, Lark, but surely he doesn't deserve to die for it!"

Lark gaped at both sisters, stu

Naoni bit her lip. "I hardly know what to think. Jivin was following us. You told Faen our shadow would be seen to, and he was slain. Taeros hired an elf-maid to follow you, and she disappeared. Now this halfling."

"You're linking Lord Roaringhorn to me. Why?"

"Because of the charm belonging to Lord Taeros-the missing charm." Naoni sighed heavily. "You and Beldar saw it last, and each of you accuses the other of having it. We hired Warrens-folk to follow you both and recover it."

Lark turned sharply to the halfling. "The one following me- how fares he?"

"She's not yet attempted to retrieve the charm," the halfling told her, his voice surprisingly deep. "As of this foredawn, she's unhurt."

"Call her off," Lark said wildly. "For her life's sake, tell her to stay far from me!"

The halfling looked at Naoni, who nodded. He bowed his head, drained his tankard in one long gulp, and left without another word, hurrying.

Naoni reached for Lark's hand. "I think you've much to tell us."

Lark nodded unhappily, and began the story she'd hoped never to have to tell.

"I was born in Luskan, to a tavern wench. I never knew a father, and when I was young, I once asked my mother what he looked like. She said it was hard to know, as there's little to see when your skirts are thrown over your head."

Faendra winced. "Your mother was… forced?"

"Paid is more like it," Lark said bitterly. "From birth, I was indentured to the tavernmaster. My mother owed him for her keep, as she downed more drink than she served and never won free of her debt. Not that she tried. She was well content with the place and her life, and had grown fond of some of her regular customers."

"Indentured," Naoni murmured, understanding dawning.

"In my twelfth winter I was told to take up my mother's debt… and her duties. I'd cleaned and worked in the kitchen, all along, and never minded the work, but this other…"

Lark stared into her memories, then tossed her head and said briskly, "I had no choice in matters and couldn't flee; my arm was branded with the i

"So you always wear a ribbon," Faendra murmured.

"Any guardsman of Luskan, any seacaptain anywhere, and every caravan master headed to Luskan could return me for a reward-that'd be added to my indenture. I was determined to earn my way free, but my mother's debt had grown large. She died birthing another twelve-fathered bastard, but lingered long enough to need a healer. I had no love for her, but couldn't let her die untended. By the time they found someone who'd venture those rough streets, she was past healing, and the babe as well. Then there were burial costs…"

Lark dismissed memories with an impatient wave. "By then the debt was more than I could hope to pay. No matter how hard I worked, I'd never be more than a slave."

Faendra winced, and Naoni squeezed Lark's hand in silent sympathy.

"One night a young lordling came to the tavern. A half-ogre was with him, a beast dreaded across Luskan-but when coins're on the table, most tavernmasters care little for servants' safety. The wealthy lord paid for his companion's food and entertainment, and watched while the monster dragged me to the stairs."

Tears glimmered in Faendra's eyes.

Naoni had gone pale. "You needn't say more."

"Nay, the story turns brighter: Chance brought a paladin from Waterdeep through the doors just then. He slew the beast, asked the tavernmaster my debt, and handed over coin on the spot. We left that very night for Waterdeep."

Lark smiled faintly. "At first I thought he'd bought me for his own pleasure on the road south, but he understood nothing of what my life had been. Doubtless he thought he was rescuing a virtuous maiden." She frowned, and added wonderingly, "or perhaps he knew what I was and cared not."

"Texter!" Faendra exclaimed. "He you sent a message to, at the Serpent's revel!"

"Yes. I tried to repay him, but he refused my coins. I'll be beholden to no man, not even a good one, and told him so. Seeing I was steadfast in this, he asked me, in lieu of coin, to send him word whenever I saw possible danger to Waterdeep or its people."

Naoni frowned. "How does Elaith Craulnober come into this?"

Lark stared at her pleadingly. "Try to see things as I do, Mistress. I've… known wealthy men, titled men, even a High Captain of Luskan, once. Under their finery, they're little different than the roughest sailor. Like men everywhere, the masked Lords of Waterdeep are-no better than they have to be. Elaith Craulnober went straight to the hiding-place where Texter had told me to hide my message, so I thought…"

"He was a Lord of Waterdeep." Faendra concluded.