Songs & Swords 1 (12 page)

“I’m almost done,” he said, rummaging in the bottom of the sack. “Best for last, and all that. Ah! Here it is.” He fished out a large flat object and waved it triumphantly.

Arilyn groaned. The fool had produced a spellbook from the bowels of that Beshaba-blasted sack. Of all the things the goddess of bad luck could have sent to torment her! She’d abducted a would-be mage.

“Please tell me you don’t casts spells,” she pleaded.

“I dabble,” he admitted modestly.

Before Arilyn could discern his intent, he took a bit of flint and pointed it at the wood neatly stacked in the fireplace. “Dragonbreath,” he muttered.

There was a spark. The flint disappeared from his hand, and a cozy fire filled the room with warmth and light. He turned to Arilyn with a triumphant smirk, then froze. “Nine hells!” he blurted out. “You’re an elf.”

She banked down the rising flame of her anger. “So I’ve been told. Put out that fire.”

“Why?” he argued in a reasonable tone. “It’s dark, and it’s cold, and that’s a particularly lovely fire, if I may say so.”

How could she explain to this pampered dandy her aversion to magical fire? He hadn’t seen the miscast fireball; he hadn’t heard the screams of his comrades, or smelled their burning flesh as they died in flames that refused to consume him. As she formulated a half-truth, Arilyn struggled to push away the memory of the Hammerfell Seven’s death. With great effort, she kept her voice calm, her words objective.

“As you guessed earlier, we were being followed. I believe we’ve eluded pursuit, but I don’t wish to risk making a fire while we’re still so close to Evereska.”

Danilo studied her, then as if he hadn’t heard anything she’d just said, he repeated, “An elf. You’re an elf. And your eyes aren’t really green, after all.”

He made the last observation in such a mournful tone that Arilyn blinked in surprise. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” he said slowly. “It’s just that, well, I am highly partial to green. By Mystra, you’re definitely not what you appeared to be at first glance.”

“Who is?” she asked with asperity. She glanced at Danilo’s waterlogged finery and added in an arch tone, “Except perhaps you.”

“Thanks,” he murmured absently.

Arilyn cast her eyes upward in disbelief. Still absorbed in his intent study of her, Danilo was oblivious to the insult.

“Wait! I’ve got it!” he crowed triumphantly, jabbing a finger in Arilyn’s direction. “I knew you looked familiar. You’re the person that the oaf in the bar was seeking. Ariel Moonsomething, right?”

So he wasn’t a complete fool. “Close enough,” she admitted grudgingly. She rose, feeling a need to walk about.

“How interesting! So what’s your story?” Danilo asked, settling comfortably down for the evening’s entertainment. He lay on his side, crossing his ankles and propping himself up on one elbow. Arilyn cast him a dismissing look and walked to the fireplace.

“No, leave it alone,” he insisted, as Arilyn began to poke at the burning logs with a stick. “We’re both wet and cold, and the fire will do us good. Just forget about it and sit down.” He noisily patted the straw beside him in invitation. “Come on. Relax. You had them moonswaggled back at the inn with that fancy getup. That thug didn’t follow us.”

“I told you, I’m not worried about him,” she said.

“If not him, who? We are being followed, you said.”

“Were,” she stressed, looking over her shoulder at him with a quelling glance.

Danilo Thann was not easily quelled. He rolled his eyes in comic disgust. “Were. Well, that clears everything right up.”

Arilyn turned away, ignoring his friendly sarcasm.

“Look,” Danilo said to the back of her head, “since I’m along for the ride, so to speak, don’t you think I should have some idea who or what I’m up against? And where we’re going, for that matter?”

Why not? Arilyn thought. Maybe the truth would frighten him into holding his tongue. She sank down in the straw beside Danilo, drawing her knees up tight against her chest.

“All right, then, here it is. Since you seem to be current on most of the gossip in the area, you may have heard that someone is systematically assassinating Harpers.”

“Ghastly business,” Danilo said with a shudder. His eyes widened. “Oh gods. I’m not sure I like where this is leading. You’re saying that the Harper Assassin is after you?”

“You’re sharper than you appear,” she said dryly.

“Thank you, but how do you know? About the assassin, I mean.”

Arilyn shrugged, trying to appear matter-of-fact. “For some time now, I’ve been followed everywhere I go. Several of my friends have been killed. I was usually nearby when it happened.”

“Oh, my dear. How awful for you.”

The genuine warmth and concern in the young noble’s voice temporarily disconcerted Arilyn. Her eyes flew to the fire, and she stared fixedly into the magically conjured flames that had ignited such bitter memories. At the moment anything was better than meeting Danilo Thann’s kind, gray eyes. She had put this young man’s life in danger, and fool though he might be, he’d done nothing to deserve the treatment she’d dealt him.

“I regret involving you in this,” she murmured. “Believe me, I had not planned to bring you this far.”

“So far, no problem,” he replied, cheerfully accepting her apology. “Anyway, it’s a rare honor for a humble fashion plate such as myself to be of service to the Harpers. You are one of them, I take it?”

“No,” she said slowly. “I’m no Harper.”

“Oh? Then why is the Harper Assassin after you?”

“I work for the Harpers on occasion.”

“Ah. And what is it that you do?” Danilo drawled, eyeing her and waggling his eyebrows in a broad parody of a leer.

Arilyn glared at him, and he grinned in return. The fool enjoyed baiting her! she realized suddenly. It was a game. His scrutiny was not lascivious, but boyishly mischievous. All of her irritation with Danilo Thann flooded back, pushing aside the guilt of a moment before. An unworthy but irresistible impulse urged her to make him squirm a bit.

“I am an assassin,” she intoned in a threatening voice.

A droll expression crossed Danilo’s face. “Do tell. And you’ve got some lakefront property in the Anauroch Desert to sell me as well, I suppose?”

Arilyn grinned despite herself. “Remember, appearances can be deceiving. In some cases,” she added with a touch of sarcasm.

Her gibe went over Danilo’s head with a foot to spare. He waved away her comment. “No, no, it’s not that. I could buy you as an assassin, although I imagine you’re prettier than most. It’s just that, well, since when do Harpers have people assassinated?”

“They don’t,” she admitted. “I haven’t done that sort of work for years, and never in the employ of the Harpers. Now I recover lost items, lead quick-strike parties, guard travelers. I’m a ranger, spy, or sellsword as the need arises.”

Danilo rolled onto his stomach and propped up his chin with his hands. “Your versatility is astounding, but for my own peace of mind, let’s get back to this assassin thing. Do you—oops! excuse me—did you really sneak up on people and kill them?”

Arilyn’s chin lifted. “No, never. I challenged armed and capable fighters and overcame them in single combat.”

“I see.” Danilo nodded knowingly. “No wonder the Harper Assassin is after you.” She raised her eyebrows in inquiry, and he grinned. “You know, for trying to raise the standards of the trade. Against the guild laws, and all that.”

A bubble of laughter welled up in Arilyn, but she held it under control. “I never actually belonged to the Assassin’s Guild.”

“You see? There’s yet another motive. They want to collect their back guild fees out of your estate.”

Arilyn finally succumbed to a chuckle. “I’m not sure the Assassin’s Guild would want to claim me as a member.”

“Really. There is a tale here, perhaps?”

She shrugged. “Not really. Very early in my career, ‘assassin’ became a sort of nickname. If someone crossed swords with me, they died,” she said simply, in answer to Danilo’s inquiring look.

“Hmmm. I’ll bear that in mind. And then?”

“The name stuck. In time I was truly considered an assassin, and I began to think of myself as one, albeit an honorable assassin. For years I was an independent adventurer, hired to fight and therefore to kill.”

“That sounds like an assassin to me,” Danilo murmured.

“Yes, but never did I fight one who was unarmed, never did I shed innocent blood.”

“You know that for a fact, do you? It must be nice to be so confident of one’s judgment,” he said, a little wistfully.

“For good or ill, I do not have to rely upon my judgment,” she said. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded a little bitter. She lay her hand on the sword at her side. “The sword I carry cannot shed innocent blood. It will not. I learned that while I was little more than a child, training at the Academy of Arms. One of the older students, Tintagel Ni’Tessine, used to taunt me about my race. I lost my temper one day and drew on him.”

“What happened?” Danilo encouraged her.

A small smile tightened Arilyn’s lips. “My sword arm went numb, and the moonblade dropped from my hand. Tintagel took the opportunity to beat me senseless.”

“That’s terrible!”

She shrugged. “It happens.”

“That’s hardly an innocent man’s behavior,” Danilo said heatedly. “I had not realized there was such prejudice against elves.”

Arilyn looked at him strangely. “Tintagel Ni’Tessine is an elf.”

“Wait a minute.” Danilo held up one hand, and he appeared to be thoroughly puzzled. “Did I miss something?”

“He’s a gold elf. I’m a moon elf, and a half-elf at that,” she admitted grudgingly. “You didn’t know that there are several races of elves?”

“Well, yes. I’ve just never realized that there might be significant differences.”

That remark, so typical from humans, jolted Arilyn. “Why am I not surprised?” she said so harshly that Danilo blinked in surprise.

Her hostage could not know that her manner covered her own chagrin. When was the last time she had chattered like such a magpie? Had she ever told anyone about that incident with Tintagel? Or admitted even to herself that she sometimes felt belittled by the power of her own sword? Damn it, something about the young man seemed to break down the defenses of her natural reserve, and she resented him for it.

Danilo, however, did not seem to be put out by her abrupt change of mood. “You share my passion for fine gems, I see.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

With a smug little smile, he pointed to her sword. “That stone in the hilt. It’s a topaz, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. Why?”

“Oh, I’m just curious. The sword itself looks quite old, but the stone is cut in a modern fashion.”

Arilyn gaped at him for a moment. “That’s a remarkable observation.”

“Not at all,” he disclaimed modestly. “As I mentioned, I have a passion for precious stones, and I know a few things about them. See the way the tiny facets curl around the base of the gem, leading up like a honeycomb to a large flat surface? That style started becoming popular only about, say, fifty years ago.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that,” she said. “But you’re right: the stone is fairly new.”

“The original was lost, I take it? What kind of stone was it? “

“A moonstone.”

“Semi-precious white stone, often flecked with blue. Natural conduits for magic,” Danilo recited in a learned tone. “Why was it replaced with a topaz?”

Arilyn shrugged. “When I started training, my teacher had the new stone made to balance the hilt.”

“Not many teachers give that much attention to detail… or to their students for that matter.” He grinned. “Mine generally tried to avoid me as much as they could. You must have been fortunate in your choice of teacher.”

“I was,” Arilyn said warmly. “To study with Kymil Nimesin was a great opportunity, and—” She broke off suddenly.

“And?”

Arilyn just shrugged. Damn it all, she thought angrily, I’m doing it again. This man would have her life history from her before she could be rid of him.

Most distressing to her was the inexplicable tug of camaraderie, the tiny seedling of friendship that was growing between her and this stranger—this shallow, foolish, overdressed human. Like a talisman, she deliberately brought to mind an image of Rafe Silverspur. The reminder of what could happen to those close to her strengthened her resolve to keep herself firmly apart.

Again Danilo Thann’s cheerful voice broke into her thoughts. “You know, I just realized that you never told me your name. What was it that the comical barbarian in the inn called you? Arilyn, wasn’t it? Arilyn Moonsinger. No, that’s not quite right. Moonblade. Yes, that’s it!”

Arilyn rose and kicked the bright embers of Danilo’s fire into ash. “Get some sleep,” she said curtly, keeping her back to the man. “We leave before daybreak.”

Seven

Arilyn shook her hostage awake while it was still dark.

“Whazzat?” Danilo sat up abruptly, staring bleary-eyed into the grim face of the half-elf until his vision focused. “Oh. Hello there. I suppose it’s time for my watch?”

“Time to leave,” she said flatly.

“Oh. If you say so.” Danilo struggled to his feet and stretched, shifting this way and that and wincing as he worked out some stiff spots. “Where are we going?”

“Waterdeep.”

“Oh, marvelous,” he said, brightening. “We can probably catch up with one of the merchant trains within a few days and—”

“No,” she broke in quietly.

“No?” Danilo looked puzzled, stopping in mid-stretch. “Whyever not?”

Arilyn explained with the patience usually afforded a rather slow child. “A very skillful tracker has been following me. I was headed west when he lost me. I’m assuming he knows my routes and habits well enough to consider Waterdeep my logical destination. He is likely to take the most common route, the trade route. If we were to travel with a merchant train, he could easily catch up.”

“Ah. Never overlook the obvious,” Danilo commented, nodding sagely.

“Something like that,” Arilyn admitted. “So we’ll take the northern route.”