Silver Shadows fr-13

by Elaine Cunnighham

"It may be that he does not know the origin of the lumber," Hasheth suggested quickly.

  "I doubt that. Well, Ferret, it's not hard to guess what your next target will be," Arilyn said grimly.

  "Hhune," agreed the elven assassin.

  "But first we need your planning expertise," Arilyn said, turning to the tense young man. She described the mission and what they needed of him. Hasheth agreed to all, but there was a distracted, mechanical quality to his responses that Arilyn heard and mistrusted.

  When their planning was complete, the young man walked the women to the front gate. On impulse, Arilyn turned to Hasheth and said softly, "Listen, I don't particularly like Hhune, but as long as he keeps away from the forest and the elves I'm content to let him live. Do this: find out why Hhune is taking such a risk and who might be at the head of it. If there's a way to stop this without killing your new employer, well do it."

  "I will do what I can," Hasheth agreed at once.

  He stood at the gate for a long time after the half-elf and the exotic courtesan had left, pondering how best to handle this new wrinkle. Of course, he could arrange matters so that Arilyn and her associate never found their way out of Assante's stronghold. That would be simple. A few words from him, describing the plans of a Harper within their midst, would surely buy him his coveted membership into the Knights of the Shield.

  But there was no knowing what Arilyn had told her superiors, or whether the Harpers would send agents to replace her. Hasheth did not want any meddling northerners digging into Hhune's affairs or taking his place as Harper informant. No, Arilyn must be protected.

  But he could not allow her to harm Lord Hhune. The

  merchant was too pivotal a part of the plans Hasheth had made for his own future. Certain sacrifices must be made, and the plans made a bit more complex, but surely, Hasheth concluded comfortably, such was not beyond a man of his abilities.

  The lythari slipped from his den through an eastern door in the Forest of Tethir, one he had not used for many years.

  This door took him to the easternmost reaches of the Suldusk hunting grounds, near the edge of the forest's boundaries. Ganamede seldom came here, for the wild elves who lived among these ancient trees had little use for anyone outside their tribe. There were few wild elves as hostile and reclusive as the Suldusk.

  Even so, Ganamede had promised to look out after the interests of all the green elves. In his wolflike form, he padded silently southward to the Suldusk settlement.

  The terrain here was more uneven and wild than hi the western parts of the forest. The trees grew upon tall hills filled with caves and punctuated by rocky cliffs and ravines. To Ganamede's eyes, it was more like the forests of the far Northlands than those of most of Tethyr. Indeed, here the first refugees from Cormanthor had settled so many years ago. The trees they'd brought from the elven forest still watched over the land.

  The Suldusk, however, had lived beneath the trees of Tethir for time out of memory. Their tribe had been there to greet the refugees from Cormanthor-the elves who, in tune, had become the Elmanesse tribe-and they had received the gift of seedling trees from the northern forest. But relationships did not remain cordial between the tribes. There had been centuries of raiding, followed by an uneasy truce. For many years there had been no contact between the tribes at all.

  Even the lythari clans did not hunt Suldusk lands.

  Ganamede's sharp ears caught a distant sound- faint, but alien to the forest and therefore keenly audible. The lythari climbed a large hill that led toward the settlement. From there he would have a view of the valley below. Although it was heavily forested, he might catch a glimpse of the source of the disturbance.

  Running lightly, the elf in wolf form crested the hill and came to a stop at the edge of a cliff. He stood, stunned, gazing out over the valley. What had once been a wondrous elven forest was ravaged and stripped of life and magic. Massive tree stumps dotted the land. The thick foliage had been burned away so that the dead trees could be more easily dragged to the river for transport.

  Ganamede shook his silver head in denial. How could this be? The fierce Suldusk elves would never allow their home to be ravaged. Not while they lived, at least.

  The lythari spun and ran for the elven settlement, which was hidden in a valley not far from the devastated forest. He stopped long before he reached it, halted by the scent of sorrow and death and despair. He crested the hill that overlooked the Suldusk valley, finding what scant cover remained. Cautiously he crept closer, for he had to know what had become of the Suldusk folk.

  For a long time Ganamede stood gazing upon the ravaged Suldusk land. Then his silver form shimmered and disappeared, and he stood on the charred circle on two legs, a solemn, silver-haired elf. This he did without thought, driven by a deep and compelling need.

  In his wolf form, Ganamede could not weep.

  Nineteen

  Bound together at the wrist with Arilyn's amulet of water breathing, the two elven females entered the well that was Abrum Assante's escape tunnel. While the giant shrimp went into a feeding frenzy over the ham hock Ariryn had thrown them, she and Ferret swam quickly upward. They

  bobbed to the surface of the water, cautiously scanned the, pink-marbled tunnels for guards, and then climbed out As soon as Arilyn unfastened the amulet from around their wrists, Ferret toweled the water from her hair and then bound it up in a turban. She shook out a number of veils from her pack and draped them over her nearly naked form. Her role was to place Tinkersdam's candles

  tin the upper palace. Dressed as a Calishite courtesan,she could do so without attracting much attention. A new face among Assante's women would be nothing: unusual; his harem was extensive, and the women 'apparently came and went quickly enough. After all, guardian shrimp must be fed!

  And while Ferret set Tinkersdam's destructive candles hi place, Arilyn would go about the task of stealing the slumbering Zoastria from Assante's treasure rooms.

  When Ferret was safely away, following the palace map Jill had drawn for her, the Harper drew her sword and strode toward the door to the first treasure room. As before, three guards barred the way. Arilyn didn't slow her pace, but came on with deadly intent.

  Two of the guards rushed her. Arilyn ducked under the first swing of the scimitar, and came up, twisting into a lunge at the second man. He parried her attack and shoved hard enough with his sword to send the much smaller female reeling back. Instinctively, Arilyn raised her blade overhead to meet his next slashing blow. She did not stop it so much as catch the blade with her own and press its attack slightly to one side.

  The wicked scimitar continued its descent, cutting deep into the first man's shoulder. His scimitar clattered to the floor, his sword arm ruined, and his life's blood flooding the pink marble of the floor.

  Arilyn continued her turn, slashing across the wounded man's throat as she went. She then whirled upon the dumbfounded swordsman who had helped to fell his own comrade. In three strokes, her sword found his heart. Yanking her blade free, she advanced upon the final man.

  "Open the door or die," she said succinctly.

  The guard did not need time to ponder his choices. He pulled a ring of keys from his belt and tossed it to Arilyn. She caught it and tossed it back.

  "No. You." She remembered all too well the laborious task of disabling the devices that trapped the lock. There was no tune for such precautions this time.

  Fortunately for her, the guard did not know of the magical traps. He slipped a huge iron key into the latch and turned it. As he did so, Arilyn stepped back.

  A flare of arcane light ripped through the^ halls. Arilyn shielded her eyes, but not before she caught a

  glimpse of the guard's bones, gleaming weirdly through his flesh as his body jolted and shook. Finally he fell, charred beyond recognition, his skeletal fingers still clutching the white-hot key. The door swung open as he fell.

  Arilyn stepped over the body, ignoring the dry, brittle crunch as she accidently trod on what had
once been a human hand.

  She made her way directly to Zoastria's resting place and lifted the dusty lid of the glass tomb. As she gathered the tiny elf woman in her arms, as one might hold a sleeping child, the first of Tinkersdam's explosions ripped through the palace.

  "An hour, maybe less," Arilyn muttered sarcastically, quoting Tinkersdam and wishing the alchemist possessed a more precise awareness of time's passing.

  She headed toward the door with Zoastria cradled against her chest, dodging a gauntlet of falling treasures as she went. All around her, statues toppled, and shelves laden with treasures rocked and crashed to the floor. As Arilyn ducked out of the path of a falling suit of armor, the second explosion hit, this one more powerful I than the first. The tremors knocked Arilyn to her knees, •.but somehow she kept her hold on the sleeping elf woman. As she staggered to her feet, she blessed the fact that Zoastria had been small and slight.

  Dust and small rocks rained down on her as she hurried back to the well. Ferret was already there, her knife pressed to the throat of an elderly Tethyrian man. As they had anticipated, Assante realized that explosions of this magnitude would destroy many of his defenses, and he had come to the lower levels of his palace to avail himself of his escape tunnel.

  The palace is coming down," Ferret lied fiercely. i "Those explosions were but the first of many. Take the 'fastest way out, and take us with you, and you have a [chance of Living through this. When we are beyond the i palace grounds, you will be set free. If you call out for help or try to attack us, I will kill you at once, and we will take our chances without you as hostage. Do you understand?"

  The former assassin nodded slightly; even so small a movement sent a thin line of blood running down into his shirt. Assante set a course through the halls and up sweeping marble stairs. The noise that assaulted them as they entered the main hall reminded Arilyn of a cavalry charge at the heat of battle.

  Screaming, dragging wounded friends or gathering up armloads of possessions, Assante's retainers frantically sought escape from the burning building. Since so much emphasis had been given to keeping unwanted visitors out, the doors leading in and out of the palace were few. In the confused rush for these exits, many people had been knocked down and were now being trampled underfoot. Those who retained their balance surged toward the doors, too frantic to notice that their feared master was among them.

  Ferret gave the knife at Assante's throat an encouraging twitch, and the master assassin waded out into the chaos and confusion. To Arilyn's disgust, the assassin did not hesitate to use his knife on his own people. Indeed, Assante cut a way for them through the milling throng, killing with brutal efficiency and then climbing coldly over the bodies. He would certainly have tried to turn his blade upon his captors, old as he was, but for one precaution Arilyn had insisted upon: both she and Ferret openly wore their Shadow Sashes, flaunting their rank among Zazesspur's professional assassins. Only a fool would challenge two such seasoned killers, and Assante was no fool. He would wait for his chance and then strike. She only hoped Ferret had gained enough experience to realize this and to strike first.

  Once outside, they made for one of the bridges that spanned the reflecting pool. Unfortunately, so did most of the survivors. At Ferret's urging, Assante shouted repeatedly for his people to make way, and they did so.

  Now that they were beyond the crumbling palace, their panic was lesser than their deep-seated fear of their master.

  But the danger to the escaping elf women was all the greater. Within the walls of the palace, the screams and cries had reverberated into a deafening cacophony. Now that Assante could be heard, now that the crush was lessened somewhat, his plight would not go unnoticed. Surely some of his guards would move to his rescue, and neither Arilyn nor Ferret had hands free for such a fight.

  Ferret, apparently, had come to the same conclusion. As soon as they neared the pool, she shoved Assante viciously away from her, pulling the knife at his throat back toward her as he fell. His body splashed into the "water" with a sickening hiss, and blood rose to bubble and pop on the surface of the acid pool.

  Arilyn grimaced, for Ferret's action was shortsighted. Without Assante to use as a shield, they were virtually defenseless.

  The Harper turned back toward the palace just in time to see a guard rushing at them, his scimitar lifted high overhead in preparation for swift retribution. She leaped forward, twisted to one side, and kicked out as hard and ae high as she could considering the precious burden in her arms. The kick landed firmly in his chest. It was not much, but it stunned him and halted his momentum long enough for Ferret to join the fray.

  The green elf leaped forward and thrust her knife into the guard's throat. She twisted the blade, yanked it free, and then hurled it at a second guard.

  "Run!" she demanded as she tore the sword from the dead man's hands.

  Arilyn did so. Ferret held the curved blade before her, waving it menacingly at those who'd halted at the far edge of the bridge. Then she lifted the sword high and hurled it-not at the guards, but into the deadly pool. A spray of acid splashed up into the crowds, droplets that would tunnel through flesh and sinew and bone, causing incredible agony as they left behind indelible scars, or blindness, or death.

  Ignoring the screams, Ferret turned and ran after Arilyn.

  It was not difficult to leave the compound's gardens. The gate had been shattered by the first rush to escape, and the panic within was nothing compared to the confusion outside Assante's complex. It seemed as if all of Zazesspur had come to see the excitement.

  Arilyn pressed her way through the milling crowd to the carriage Hasheth had arranged for them, which waited three streets east and away from much of the turmoil. Kendel Leafbower sat in the driver's box, cloaked and cowled to conceal his elven nature.

  Jill leaned out of the carriage and took the slumbering elf woman from Arilyn's arms. The Harper snatched up a cloak, draped it over herself, and then climbed onto the box beside Kendel. She took the reins from his hands and shook them briskly over the horses' back.

  The dwarf, meanwhile, had deposited Zoastria gently onto the carriage seat and extended a brawny hand to Ferret. The wild elf hesitated only a moment, then grasped the offered wrist as the carriage lurched off. Jill tugged the wild elf inside with an ease that nearly pulled her arm from her shoulders, and brought her tumbling into his lap.

  "Well, now," the dwarf said happily. "I knowed you'd come around to my way of thinking sooner or later!"

  They were an odd company, these six travelers to the Forest of Tethir. There was a priest of Gond, who was a bit grumpy over having been persuaded to abandon his traditional yellow tunic for the more practical browns and greens of forest garb. There was a moon elven maje, who walked as silent as a shadow, and a dwarf whose small boots thumped and cracked with every step. Then there were two elven females, one of the forest folk and one of the moon people, and the slumbering elven hero whom they carried between them on a litter.

  Four days' travel lay between them and Talltrees, and Arilyn made good use of the time laying plans for the battle to come. All had a part to play, even the dwarf. Arilyn was past worrying what the forest elves would make of such strange allies. All that mattered was winning freedom-for them, and also for Danilo. How she would accomplish both these goals was not yet clear to the Harper, and these thoughts weighed heavily on her as they made their way eastward.

  At last they neared the elven settlement. Arilyn and Ferret placed the litter on the ground to rest for a moment, but Ferret stopped in midstretch and let out a strangled cry. She set out for the settlement at a run.

  "Stay here," Arilyn informed the others, and then she sprinted off after the frantic elf.

  It was not long before she saw what the green elf had envisioned. Where the elven community had been was only a barren, blasted circle, too eerily precise to be anything but the result of a wizard's fire. The destruction had been swift and terrible. Although most of the circle had been reduced to gray
ash, here and there bits of charred trees and the remnants of elven dwellings lay in tumbled piles, little more than glowing coals that Arilyn knew could not be quenched until they had burned all they touched into oblivion. Here and there wisps of smoke still rose from the rubble as the wizard's fire completed its grim work.

  Talltrees was no more.

  Twenty

  For several anguished moments the elven females regarded the smoking ruins of the forest stronghold

  "They are not all dead, my clan," Ferret said in a dazed voice. "Somehow most of them escaped, and they are even now nearby."

  Arilyn did not need to ask how she knew. In times of great stress, even those elves who were not joined in special mystic bonds sensed things that their eyes and ears could not possibly have told them.

  The green elf lifted her hands to her mouth and sent a high, ringing call out into the ruined forest.

  The survivors of the Talltrees clan came quickly, but their eyes were glazed with the pain of their loss, and they moved as if their limbs were heavy and numbed by grief and exhaustion.

  Ferret ran to her brother and fell into his arms. Khothomir enfolded her to him, but he looked over her head, his eyes seeking out Arilyn. *"

  "How did this happen? How did the humans find this place?" he demanded.

  The answer came to Arilyn quickly, painfully, like the stab of a knife. "Probably they had a cleric," she admitted. "Some priests can force the spirit of the slain to answer questions. Hawkwing fell near the human fortress; we could not bring her back into the forest. All that she knew, they now know."

  The elves stared at Arilyn in horrified silence. What she described was an unspeakable abomination. No elf would willingly disturb the course of another's afterlife.

  "You have brought this violation upon Hawkwing, and this loss upon us all," one of the females said in a low voice.

  "You led Hawkwing and the other elves from the forest," added another. "If you had not, this would not have occurred."

  Dark murmurs rippled through the elven assemblage. Arilyn could not fault them. The forest folk were battered and beleaguered, and in times of peril they would naturally fall back into old ways. As an outsider, a moon elf, she was an object of suspicion. Arilyn wondered, briefly, what they would think when they met Jill and Tinkersdam.