“Killed, most likely,” he said mildly, thinking of the response this flirtation would earn from the half-elf who was prowling the shadows beyond the brightly-lit hail. “Or severely wounded, at the very least.”
The barmaid’s dumbfounded expression brought a smile to his lips. “Wine, if you please,” he amended. “A bottle of your best Halruaan red, and several goblets.”
As she wandered off to relay this order to another bar- maid, Danilo scanned the tables for the captains of the northbound caravan. Before he could make his way over, he found his path barred by a stout, stern-faced, white-bearded gnome whose crimson jerkin was nearly matched in hue by an exceedingly red and bulbous nose.
“Bentley Mirrorshade,” the gnome announced.
Danilo nodded. “Ah, yes-the proprietor of this fine establishment. Allow me to intro-”
“I know who ya are,” Bentley interrupted in a gruff tone. “Word gets around. There’ll be no fighting and no spellcasting. Leave yer weapons at the door. Sophie here will peace bind yer left thumb to yer belt.”
Danilo winced. “It appears I will never live down that incident in the Stalwart Club.”
“Never heard about that one.” The gnome nodded to the barmaid who had greeted Danilo earlier. She fished a thin strip of leather from her pocket and deftly secured the bard’s hand. As she worked, Danilo scanned the room and noticed that he was not the only one subjected to such precautions: all known mages were peace bound, and everyone was required to leave weapons at the door.
Danilo made his way to the merchant captains’ table. After the introductions were made, he poured out the first of several bottles of well-aged wine, and listened as the conversation flowed. Although the merchants talked a great deal, they said little that informed his cause.
As the night wore on, Danilo found his eyes returning with increasing frequency to the door. His fellow travelers trickled in as their duties were completed and the caravan and its goods secured. Elaith was one of the late- corners. Danilo noted with interest that the elf was subjected to peace binding. Few people knew of the Moon elf’s considerable magical abilities. These gnomes apparently didn’t miss much-although Dan suspected that Elaith managed to retain a good many of his hidden weapons. The gnome’s insight was not too surprising. Dan had heard that Bentley Mirrorshade was a highly gifted mage, specializing in the illusionist’s art.
The evening passed and the hall began to empty as the gnomes and their guests sought their beds. When Danilo’s patience reached the end of its tether, he left the hail in search of his partner.
He found Arilyn in the stable, currying her mare. She looked up when he came into the stall. Her face was pale and grim beneath its hood. Fighting came easily to the half-elf-Danilo had never seen anyone who could handle a sword as well-but killing did not. Even so, Danilo sensed at once that something else weighed heavily on her mind.
“That took quite a long time,” he prompted.
“I had to wait until Yoseff was alone,” Arilyn said in a low, furious tone. “He had a meeting. With Elaith Craulnober.” Danilo hissed a curse from between clenched teeth. “Why am I not surprised? Did you hear what was said?”
“No, nothing. He must have cast a spell of silence, or some such thing.”
“Undoubtedly. Now what?” mused Dan, running one hand through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. He had investigated Elaith’s purpose in this trip, which was allegedly to acquire exotic goods from faraway Maztica in the markets of Amn. The elf would make a fine profit selling coffee, cocoa, and dried vegetables to the merchants of Waterdeep, but he had also arranged to acquire goods that were restricted or forbidden outright: feather magic, enspelled gems, possibly even slaves. Danilo had considered this the extent of Elaith’s planned mischief; apparently, he had been wrong.
“And the assassin? What had he to say for himself?”
“Yoseff was never one for conversation,” Arilyn said shortly.
“Ah. And he is dead, I suppose?”
“Very. He carried a few things that might help, though.” Arilyn reached into the bag that hung from her belt and took several glittering objects from it. The first to catch Danilo’s eye was a finely wrought gold locket on a heavy gold chain. A very nice amethyst-brilliant cut, thumb-sized, and deep purple in hue-was set into the front of the locket and a wisp of fine, black hair was nestled within.
“An amulet of seeking,” he surmised, fingering the soft curl. “Hair so soft could only have belonged to an elf or a baby. I’m guessing the latter. So we not only have a fair idea who the assassin came to find, but also who sent him-may all the gods damn the woman who would so use her own child!”
Before he could elaborate, a female voice, raised in a keening wail, cut through the night. It was a chilling sound, an ages old, wordless song of mourning. It spoke of death more clearly than any cleric’s eulogy, and far more poignantly.
Arilyn bolted from the stable with Danilo close behind her. They dashed through the nearly empty hail, toward the babble of gnomish voices in a side chamber. A thick-chested gnome barred their way. He was an odd-looking fellow with hair and skin of nearly matching shades of slate gray. Danilo recognized him from descriptions as Garith Hunterstock, Bentley’s second-in-command, Though the gnomish commander was determined to keep them out, the Harpers were tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd.
In the room beyond, Bentley Mirrorshade lay in a spreading pool of blood. The hilt of a jeweled dagger rose from his chest.
“No one in, no one out,” the gnome gritted out. He raised his voice and began to bellow orders. “Lower the portcullis and bar the gates! Archers, to the walls! Shoot down anyone who tries to leave the fortress before the murderer is found.”
Later that night, Danilo and his “servant” attended a grim gathering in the castle’s hall. The body of Bentley Mirrorshade lay in state upon a black-draped table. Candles lined the walls, casting a somber, golden light.
The crowd parted to allow a green-robed gnome woman to pass. Respectful silence filled the room as Gellana Mirrorshade, the high priestess of Garl Glittergold and the widow of Bentley Mirrorshade, made her way to her husband’s bier. She carried herself with admirable dignity. Her pale brown face was set in rigid lines, but her eyes were steady and dry.
The priestess spoke into the silence. “You are gathered here to see justice done. It is no small thing to speak with the dead, but an evil deed must not go unpunished.”
Gellana began the words and gestures of a complicated ritual. Danilo watched closely; nothing about the spell was familiar to him. He had studied magic since his twelfth year with no less a teacher than the archmage Khelben Arunsun, but the magic of a wizard and that of a priest were very different things. Apparently, the priestess was stifled and devout, for a translucent image of Bentley Mirrorshade slowly took form in the air above the pall.
“The dead must speak truth,” Gellana said softly, “and in life or in death, Bentley Mirrorshade would tell no direct lie. Tell us, my husband, who is responsible for this death.”
The specter’s eyes swept the assemblage. His stubby, translucent finger lifted, swept to the left, and leveled at Elaith Craulnober with a sharp, accusing stab.
For the first time in their acquaintance, Danilo saw the elf’s composure utterly forsake him. Elaith’s face went slack and ashen, and his amber-hued eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
“What nonsense is this?” the elf protested as soon as he could gather enough of his wits to fuel speech. “I am innocent of this thing!”
“Silence!” Gellana demanded. She held a jeweled dagger up for the ghostly gnome’s inspection. “Was this the weapon used?”
The spectral head rose and fell once, slowly, in a nod of confirmation. Despite the gravity of the occasion, Danilo could not help but observe that the gnome’s spirit had a remarkable flair for drama.
“And whose dagger is this?” persisted Gellana.
“It belongs to the elf,” proclaimed the spiri
t. It is Elaith Craulnober’s dagger.”
Gellana Mirrorshade’s eyes were hard as they swept the gathering. “Have you heard enough? May I release my husband, and in his name order the death of this treacherous elf?”
A murmur arose, gathering power and fury. The accused elf stood alone in an angry circle of gnomes, buffeted by a storm of accusation and demands for immediate retribution. Elaith’s eyes went flat and cool, and his chin lifted with elven hauteur as he faced his death.
That gesture, that purely elven mixture of pride and courage and disdain, was to be his salvation. Danilo had always been a fool for all things elven, and this moment proved no exception. He sighed and quickly cast a cantrip that would add power and persuasion to his voice.
“Wait,” he demanded.
The single word thrummed through the great hall like a clarion blast, and the gnomes fell suddenly silent. Garith Hunterstock froze, his sword poised to cut the elf down. Danilo reached out and gently eased the gnome’s blade away from Elaith Craulnober’s throat. “The elf claims innocence,” the Harper said. “We should at least hear him out, and consider the possibility that he speaks truth.”
“Bentley Mirrorshade himself accused the elf’!” shouted a high-pitched gnomish voice from the crowd.
“The dead do not lie!” another small voice added.
“That is true enough,” Dan agreed in a conciliatory tone, “but perhaps there is some other explanation that will serve both truths.” Inspiration struck, and he glanced at Arilyn. She stood near the back of the room, nearly indistinguishable from the shadows. “Earlier this evening, Elajth Craulnober was seen meeting with a known thief and assassin. Perhaps this man stole the dagger, and used it to kill the gnome?”
“That is not possible,” Arilyn said flatly. “The assassin was dead before Bentley Mirrorshade’s murder.”
“Dead?” Garith Hunterstock said, turning a fierce glare in her direction. “By whose hand?”
The Harper didn’t flinch. “Mine.” she said simply. “He attacked me; I defended myself. You will find his body behind the smokehouse.”
“And who might you be?” demanded the gnome.
The half-elf slipped down her cowl and stepped into the firelight. Before she could speak, a young gnome clad in forest green let out a startled exclamation. “I know her! She’s the Harper who fought alongside the elves of Tethyr’s forest. If she says the stiff behind the smoke- house needed killing, that’s good enough for me. If she speaks for yonder elf, I say that’s call to think things over real careful.”
Dozens of expectant faces turned in Arilyn’s direction. Danilo saw the flicker of regret in her eyes as she met Elaith’s stare, and he knew what her answer would be.
“I cannot,” she said bluntly. “On the other hand, it never hurts to think things over. Lord Thann has apparently appointed himself Elaith Craulnober’s advocate. Give them time-two days, perhaps-to prove the elf’s claim of innocence. I know of Bentley Mirrorshade, and nothing I’ve heard suggests that he would want anyone denied a fair hearing.”
A soft, angry mutter greeted her words, but no one could think of a way to refute them. Garith Hunterstock ordered the elf taken away and imprisoned. The others left, too, slipping away in silence to leave Gellana Mirror shade alone with her dead.
As the sun edged over the eastern battlements of the fortress, Danilo made his way down the tightly spiraling stairs that led to the dungeon. It was a dank, gloomy place, lit only by an occasional sputtering torch thrust into a rusted sconce.
Since Elaith was the only prisoner, his cell was not hard to find. Danilo followed the faint light to the far corner of the dungeon. The elf’s cell was small, the ceiling too low for him to stand upright. The only furniture was a straw pallet. Elaith wore only his leggings and shirt, and his thumbs were entrapped in opposite ends of a metal tube, a gnomish device of some sort designed to make spellcasting impossible. He had been stripped of weapons, armor, and magical items. These lay heaped in an impressive pile, well beyond reach of the cell.
Danilo eyed the glittering hoard. “Did you actually wear all that steel? It’s a wonder you could walk without clanking,” he marveled.
The elf’s furious, amber-eyed glare reminded Danilo of a trapped hawk. “Come to gloat?”
“Perhaps later,” he said mildly. “At the moment, though, I would rather hear what you have to say.”
“And you would believe me, I suppose?”
“I would listen. That seems a reasonable place to start.” The elf was silent for a long moment. “I did not kill the gnome.”
“You know, of course, how difficult it is for the dead to lie,” Danilo pointed out. “The spirit of Bentley Mirror-shade named you as his killer. The weapon that dealt the killing stroke is yours. The proof against you is formidable.”
“Nevertheless, I am innocent,” Elaith maintained. A sudden, fierce light went on in his eyes. “I am innocent, and you must find proof’!”
“Really, now!” Dan protested, lifting one eyebrow in a wry expression. “Since I have a full two days, shouldn’t I warm up with an easier task? Pilfering Elminster’s favorite pipe maybe, or bluffing an illithid at cards, or persuading Arilyn to dance upon a tavern table?”
The elf ignored the obvious irony. “When you signed on to travel with my caravan you promised your support and aid to the expedition.”
“Insofar as its purpose was lawful and just,” Danilo specified.
“What better way to fulfill this pledge than to clear an innocent person, unjustly accused? And why would you speak for me in the tavern, if you had no intention of following through?”
The Harper thought this over. “Those are both excellent points. Very well, then, let’s assume for argument’s sake that I will take on this task. Consider my dilemma. Even under the best of circumstances, ‘innocent’ is not the first word that comes to mind when your name is mentioned.”
“Perhaps the gnome priestess erred.”
“An unlikely possibility, but one I have already considered. Gellana Mirrorshade permitted me to test the murder weapon myself,” the Harper said. “I cast the needed spell not once, but three times. Each time the result was the same. The dagger is indisputably yours, and it was indeed responsible for the killing stroke. Now, I understand that most people would hardly consider my command of magic sufficient to such a task-”
“Save your breath,” Elaith said curtly. “I have seen what you can do. Your command of magic exceeds my own. If it suits you to play the fool and muck about with minstrels, that is your affair.”
“Enough said, then. Let’s consider the murder weapon. Was the dagger ever out of your keeping? Did you entrust it to another? Loose it in a game of dice? Anything?”
Elaith hesitated, then shook his head. “I didn’t even notice it was missing,” he said ruefully. With a grim smile, he nodded to the pile of weapons outside his cell. “I carry several, you see.”
The Harper folded his arms. “The situation is bleak, make no mistake about it. But it might interest you to learn that I, too, seem to be without an item or two. It would appear that there is a very talented pickpocket at work here. I was jostled by the assassin,” Arilyn dispatched, “and you were seen meeting with. And speaking of which, is there anything you would like to tell me about that?”
“No.”
“I had to ask,” Danilo commented. “As I was saying, this assassin would be my first suspect. It is possible that he had a partner.”
“That is a place to start,” the elf allowed. “Then you will do it? You will honor your pledge?”
“Well, since you put it that way…“ Danilo said dryly. “But don’ t get your hopes too high. Arilyn has bought us some time, but not much.”
Elaith’s gaze faltered. “She believes that I am responsible.”
The Harper didn’t deny it. Arilyn had had a great deal to say about Danilo’s defense of the rogue elf. Dan’s ears still burned from the heat of their argument. “My lady is occasionally mor
e elven than she realizes,” he said dryly.
This earned a small, wry smile from Elaith. “If she could not be supportive, at least she has been fair. More than fair. I don’ t suppose my other employees have followed her example.”
“The caravan guards have already drawn their pay from the quartermaster, and plan to scatter once the gates of the city are opened. Forgive me, but the prevailing attitude seems to be that this is a long overdue justice.”
The elf was silent for a moment. “I am not unaware of the irony in my situation,” he said finally, “but I maintain that I am innocent of this murder. Go now, and prove it!”
That morning, over a breakfast of bread, cheese, and newly-pressed cider, Danilo related the conversation to Arilyn. “And I have but two days to accomplish this miracle,” he lamented in conclusion. “You couldn’t have asked for a tenday?”
The half-elf sighed and stabbed a piece of cheese with her table knife. “I doubt it would help. You know Elaith as well as anyone, and you know he could have killed that gnome. He nearly killed you once.”
“Three times, actually, but why quibble?” Arilyn cast her eyes toward the ceiling. “Why do you persist in this?”
“Two things keep me from giving up: my promise to help Elaith, and the task that brought us here,” he said quietly.
His partner nodded, accepting this reasoning. “What do you propose to do?”
“You’ re not going to like this,” Danilo cautioned, “but we could ask the priestess to speak to the spirit of the dead assassin. We need to know who he was working for, and who he was working with.”
Arilyn’s lips thinned. “You know elves do not believe in disturbing the dead.”
“But gnomes do. Gellana Mirrorshade can hardly deny us this, considering that she called back her own husband’s spirit. And what other course could we take?”
“Nearly any would be preferable,” the half-elf grumbled, but Danilo read the surrender in her eyes and tone. He tossed several silver coins on the table to pay for the meal and followed Arilyn out of the tavern. One of the dark haired barmaids glided forward to clear the table and pocket the coins. The barmaids were hardworking girls, Danilo noted, recognizing several faces familiar from the night before.
Realms of Mystery a-6 Page 2