Songs & Swords 2 (10 page)

Elaith glared at the riddlemaster for a moment, then a strange glint entered his amber eyes. He affixed Danilo and his bardic companions with a measuring, speculative gaze.

“Of course, I will recompense you for the loss of Vartakes services,” Danilo said hastily, seeing the expression on the elf s face and eager to press any advantage. “You’ve little need for money, but rumor has it you’ve a fondness for magical items.”

Danilo pushed up the full sleeve of his shirt, revealing a jeweled knife in an elaborately tooled leather wrist • sheath. Turning away so that pulling the blade could not be construed as a threat, Danilo flicked the knife toward the peppergum tree. It quivered in the soft bark for five heartbeats. Then, suddenly, it was gone. Danilo held out his wrist for the elf’s inspection. The knife had returned to the sheath.

“A very handy toy,” Elaith agreed. “Very well, you may have Vartain and welcome. I will take the knife, as well as fifty pieces of platinum, standard trade weight The former I will collect now; the latter is payable by you or your estate upon my return to Waterdeep. There is one other condition: my men and I will join forces with your formidable army.” He paused and made an ironic bow to Wyn and Morgalla, then turned back to Dan with a small, tight smile. “From this day until the completion of the search, you and I will be partners.”

Danilo stared at the elf, utterly dumbfounded. At length he found his tongue and said in a dazed tone, “Partners?” `That’s right”

“Buggering Beshaba!” Danilo swore fervently, evoking the goddess of bad luck. “I had not anticipated this turn of events!”

“Nor I,” said Elaith dryly. “I can see that you’re as pleased with the prospect as I am. Regardless, have we a deal?”

“I suppose we do,” Dan agreed slowly. His eyed the elf dubiously, but he unstrapped the leather sheath and handed it to him. Elaith removed the magic knife from the sheath and examined it closely, tested its weight and balance, and then tossed it high into the air. He caught the descending knife by the tip and hurled it, all in one smooth movement, at the peppergum tree. The jeweled knife found the same spot Danilo had struck

“I’m curious,” Elaith said casually. “Say that I were to throw this knife at an enemy. The wound wouldn’t heal once the knife magically withdrew, would it? The damage would remain?”

‘That’s right”

The elf held Danilo’s eyes as he strapped the sheath onto his forearm, and his smile was not a pleasant one. “Splendid,” he said.

The morning was still young when Larissa Neathal pulled herself from her bed. Sitting at a dressing table before a large triple mirror, she assessed her face for evidence of the all-night party. The laughter and music still echoed through her head, leaving it throbbing with dull pain, yet her gray eyes were clear and her white skin flawless. She pressed her fingertips delicately to the tiny puffs under her eyes, and with a shrug she reached for a jar of tinted unguent. Larissa disliked cosmetics and did not often resort to their use, but she had an appointment within the hour, and in her business she could ill afford to look less than her best.

Last night had been especially profitable for the beautiful courtesan. The socially prominent Lady Thione had opened the Midsummer season with an extravagant costume affair. During the long hours of revelry Larissa’s legendary capacity for dancing and drinking had been stretched to the limit. From a courtesan’s point of view— particularly a courtesan who also served as a Lord of Waterdeep—the party could hardly have been better. She had charmed some business secrets from a smitten Connyrian merchant, gleaned some interesting news from a far-traveled bard named Garnet, and met a merchant nobleman visiting from Tethyr. Lord Hhune—a fat, black-haired man with small, unreadable eyes, thick black brows, and an abundant mustache—had engaged her to show him the city’s sights. She did not like the man, but, since Tethyr was a constantly simmering caldron of political trouble, she would skim what knowledge she could from him.

Despite all these successes, Larissa had felt vaguely ill for most of the evening and had been glad to see the party end. Perhaps she had caught a chill, she mused, glancing at the costume she’d tossed over a velvet settee near the door, just before she’d fallen into bed. The form-fitting, richly embroidered gown of a Shou princess had attracted much admiration, but thin red satin offered little protection from the chill night winds that buffeted the Sea Ward. Or perhaps she had simply been working too hard. In recent weeks, the Lords of Waterdeep had been stretched to the limits of their various abilities. Larissa’s talent was gathering information, and her sphere was the whirl of social events and court functions. She could not remember the last time she’d slept for more than two or three hours, and she was beginning to feel a kinship with the walking dead.

Whatever the case, Larissa was in no mood to play the part of a simpering courtesan, dancing to some stranger’s whims. Usually she played her role with real pride and genuine enjoyment, but she had no heart for it today.

Well, there was no help for it. Larissa stifled a yawn and continued her preparations. First she unbraided her red hair. Since her luxuriant tresses were too long for her to brush herself, she rang the small brass bell that would summon her maid. She stripped off her rings and massaged scented ointment into her hands. Then she rose from the dressing table and glided over to a vast oak wardrobe. Her pale green nightgown, a marvel of translucent silk, swirled and floated about her legs as she moved. Throwing open the wardrobe door, she began to debate which gown her latest client might fancy.

Behind her, the bedchamber door creaked open. “Come in, Marta, and hurry. I must be dressed in an hour,” Larissa said without turning.

“You need not bother, dear lady,” said a deep, heavily accented voice. “That green gown you are almost wearing pleases me well.”

Startled, Larissa whirled in a cloud of floating silk. Lord Hhune of Tethyr was seated on the settee, insolently fingering the red satin of her Shou costume. In the doorway stood two dark-clad men, wielding curved daggers and holding captive between them a terrified Marta.

Larissa’s right hand went instinctively to her left pinkie, reaching for the enspelled ring given to all Waterdeep’s Lords. Her heart plummeted when she realized she’d inadvertently taken it off with her other rings and left it on the dressing table. The ring not only granted her immunity to poisons, but it would have allowed her to summon her powerful comrades. Her mind raced over other options. Screaming for help would be futile. She had several skilled and trusted fighters among her servants; if they were not already here defending her, they were dead. All her gowns were equipped with cunningly hidden stilettos, but her nearly transparent nightgowns afforded her no such protection. Larissa had but one weapon at hand—the art of a courtesan—and her maid’s life depended upon her skill in wielding it.

With a delicate laugh, Larissa glided over to Hhune. “I am flattered by your impatience,” she said in sultry tones. Looking up into his face, she gave him her most winsome smile and began to toy with the buttons on his coat

“But my maid has little skill in such games as you and I might enjoy. Surely, your men would be better served at any one of our city’s feasthalls. Perhaps you could give them a day’s holiday to taste the city’s pleasures, so that we might spend the afternoon in … privacy?”

Larissa swayed closer, and Hhune’s eyes darkened with an expression the courtesan knew well. She began to allow herself a bit of hope.

“You are most beautiful,” the nobleman said in a thick voice. He gathered up a handful of her gleaming red hair. “I almost regret what must come to pass.”

Hhune gave Larissa’s hair a brutal yank, jerking her head back. With the edge of his free hand, he struck her hard on the throat Dazed by the pain, the courtesan fell to her knees. A word from Hhune brought three more men from the hall beyond. Two of the ruffians held her while the third man caught her flailing hands. The man systematically broke her fingers, one by one. When the task was completed, Hhune nodded and his men fell back. Still on her knees, Larissa rocked back and forth, cupping ruined hands to her breast as sobs bubbled from her shattered voice box.

“Now, Larissa, Lord of Waterdeep, you will not be able to communicate by voice or quill for many days to come,” Hhune said coldly. “Do not fear for your life, dear lady. Far from it. This city reeks of barbarian magic, and too many could speak with your spirit. My men are too skilled to allow you to die, so you will live, lingering for many days as if in enchanted slumber. After that,” he paused and shrugged, “you may awaken. Perhaps potions and prayers may restore your voice, your hands, and your beauty. Or perhaps not”

He turned to the waiting men. “See to it,” he commanded. “As for the maid, kill her and remove her from this place. Our Waterdeep agent will see that the body disappears deep into the harbor.”

Hhune whirled and stalked from the bedchamber, faintly repulsed by the eager gleam in the men’s eyes as they closed on the sobbing courtesan. Torture was not an uncommon weapon for the Knights of the Shield, and these men been chosen for their skill in the art. Hhune had little taste for such things, but he supposed that a man should enjoy his work.

He nearly bumped into Garnet, who awaited him in the hall. The look of blatant disapproval she sent him made Hhune feel defensive of his methods.

“The courtesan is being dealt with,” Hhune said, nodding toward the closed door. “Since you did not succeed in poisoning her last night, we felt another approach was indicated.”

The half-elf’s eyes blazed. “Lady Thione neglected to tell me that all Lords of Waterdeep are immune to poison. Had I known such methods would fail, I would not have wasted the night chatting with her and performing at the party like some common minstrel.”

“Thione said nothing of that, eh? This is most interesting,” Hhune said thoughtfully.

Garnet noted that the southern nobleman was far from displeased to learn of Lady Thione’s omission. Since she had little interest in the internal politics of the Knights of the Shield, she merely shrugged and turned away. She hurried down the hall to an arched doorway and stepped out onto a balcony.

Hhune watched her, his black brows knit together in puzzlement. What did the half-elf expect to do: fly? Curiosity got the better of him, and he crept down the hall with as much stealth as his bulk could manage. He peered around the edge of the drapery, and recoiled in surprise.

A milk-white horse stood on the balcony, two stories above the quiet street. As Hhune watched, Garnet hoisted herself onto the animal’s back and gathered up the reins, slapping them sharply against her steed’s neck. The horse hesitated, and Garnet’s face hardened into a mask of concentration and anger. As if in response, the horse dipped its head in a gesture that spoke eloquently of both sadness and resignation. It lifted straight into the air, as lightly as a hummingbird. Then, as quickly as that delicate bird, the horse darted away into the clouds.

“Asperii,” breathed Hhune in an awed tone. He had heard of the rare and magical wind steeds, but never before had he seen one. Like pegasi, these horses could fly, but they had no wings. Their flight came from their natural powers of levitation, and they were uncommonly fast. An asperii formed a telepathic bond with a mage or priest of great power, and would remain with its master for life.

This discovery intrigued Hhune. He had arrived in Waterdeep the day before with a shipment of goods for the Midsummer Faire. Once his duties as a merchant had been discharged, he’d called on lady Thione expecting a routine report. Instead, he’d discovered that she had made an alliance with a formidable sorceress, and that she had put a plan in action that would come to fruition in a matter of days. She would not tell him the details of this plan. In itself, this did not surprise Hhune, for he was not Lady Thione’s superior, and the Knights of the Shield kept secrets even from their own. He got the impression, however, that Lady Thione herself did not know all that would happen.

To Hhune’s eye, Garnet was firmly in control. The sorceress was using the Knights of the Shield as a personal tool, of that Hhune was fairly certain. He also suspected that she knew something that gave her power over Lady Thione. Hhune would dearly love to know what that was. Perhaps, he mused, a longer stay in Waterdeep would be most rewarding.

Morning light streamed in through the tall, slender windows that encircled the round bedchamber. Lucia Thione stretched, languid as a contented cat, and reached for her young lover. But the bed was empty, and only rumpled silk sheets and a broad depression in the down-filled mattress indicated that the evening before had been more than a pleasant dream.

“Ah, you’re awake. Now it can truly be said that morning has come.” Dressed in leathers and riding boots, Caladorn strode into the room, his auburn hair still damp from the baths. Lucia sat up and raised her face for a kiss. The young man bent over and greeted her tenderly

“You are off so soon?” she asked, pouting a little. “But you have been working so hard of late. We’ve had so little time together.”

“I have business,” Caladorn said with a fond smile, tracing the delicate arch of her nose with a gloved finger. “Surely a merchant of your acumen knows the importance of that.”

“What sort of business?”

“The city has engaged me to train those who wish to compete in the Midsummer Games. I shall be at the Field of Triumph all day”

After promising to meet her back at his townhouse that evening, Caladorn took leave of his lady. Left alone, Lucia smiled and flung herself back among the pillows. She waited until she heard the muffled thud of the front door. Although she would have enjoyed Caladorn’s company this morning, she needed the time alone to find a path out of her dilemma.

By pretending to be one of the Lords of Waterdeep, she had placed herself in a favored position with the Knights of the Shield. Their support had allowed her to amass a great fortune, and all had been well, until Garnet entered her life. The sorceress’s dangerous knowledge had placed Lucia in a position of virtual slavery. The arrival of Lord Hhune from Tethyr worsened matters considerably, for the Knights of the Shield would not be pleased to learn of her alliance with Garnet. This association had started out on a dangerous note: Garnet had assumed control of Hhune, his men, and Lucia’s local agents. Worse, the sorceress had demanded that Lucia reveal the names of the Lords of Waterdeep.