Elfsong

by Elaine Cunningham

  “Oh, yes. Shieldmeet begins at sunset with a vast meeting open to all the citizens of Waterdeep. At this time the Lords of Waterdeep are reaffirmed by popular acclamation. When the meeting begins, you will reveal yourself as one of the Lords, argue that the city’s woes are due to the ambitions of Khelben Arunsun, and demand that he resign from the Council of Lords.”

  Lucia paled.

  “You are well connected with the guilds, popular with the nobility, and beloved of the tradespeople. The only major faction in Waterdeep that is not in your pocket is the collective clergy.” Garnet paused for a hard smile. “How fortunate for us that Waterdeep is not a deeply devout city.”

  Lucia Thione stared at the sorceress, her eyes enormous with shock. She licked her lips nervously and tried to speak, but the words would not come.

  The half-elf noted this with growing suspicion. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes! That is, you realize of course that Lord Piergeiron will deny that I am one of the Lords of Waterdeep. This is standard practice whenever a Lord is unmasked, much as the Knights of the Shield disavow any of our members who are caught.”

  Garnet did not look convinced. “I wonder,” she said softly, her sapphire eyes searching the noblewoman’s pale face. She smiled suddenly. “You know, I have always been curious about the magical properties of those helms that you Lords of Waterdeep wear in public. Might I examine yours?”

  Lucia’s heart thudded painfully, and she struggled to keep her panic from her face. “I do not keep it in my Sea Ward villa. It is safely locked away, but I will be happy to retrieve it for you later in the day.”

  “You do that,” Garnet said, pushing past Lucia and making her way up the stairs. “I will be staying here until Shieldmeet is past. Kindly send some of your servants to attend me,” she called over her shoulder.

  The noblewoman slumped against the wall. Her worse fears had come to fruition. Garnet’s demands had placed her in an impossible situation. She could not openly claim to be a Lord of Waterdeep, for the penalty for impersonating a Lord was death. Yet if she refused, Garnet would make sure that the Knights of the Shield learned of Lucia’s deception. The best she could do was stall for time and hope that a solution would come to her. Always before, Lucia had been able to untie the Gordian knots that came with her life of intrigue, but this time there seemed to be no way out.

  “Lady Thione? Are you ill, madame?”

  The question snapped her back into the present. She recognized the deep, charmingly accented voice of Bergand, a merchant lord of the faraway island of Nimbral. A possible solution presented itself to Lucia. Nimbral lay southwest of the Jungle of Chult, and it was far beyond the reach of the Knights of the Shield. The land was rich, and trade was busy and diverse. Bergand himself had vast holdings and a thriving business, and he was not immune to her charm.

  Lucia turned to her client and gave him her most dazzling smile.

  Fourteen

  “If’n I knowed yer friend would be late abed, I’d’ve had me another mug of that ale,” Morgalla said wistfully.

  Danilo grinned, not taking the dwarf at all seriously. They’d been waiting for Caladorn at the Field of Triumph for well over an hour, and Danilo noticed that Morgalla watched the morning’s practice with an interested and critical eye. A fighter to the core, she was having a fine time appraising the styles and skills displayed on the practice fields.

  The Harper also made good use of the time. He noted the poor turnout, the dispirited air of the contestants, and the number of clerics on hand to heal injuries. The horses in the arena’s stables—supposedly the best horses in all the Northlands—looked dull and lethargic. A number of them had suffered injuries, and for the price of a silver coin one of the grooms confided that several horses had been hurt so badly that they’d been put down.

  Danilo also learned that many of the renowned fighters who’d expected to be in the contests had suffered injury or met with troubles of one sort or another. Most of the contestants who trained this morning were youths and visitors, eager for the fame that victory at the Midsummer Games would bring them and willing to take the all-too-apparent risks involved.

  “If this be the best fighters you got in Waterdeep, I can’t figger out why the city ain’t overrun with trolls,” Morgalla commented. With the jester-head of her staff, she pointed toward two young men battling with staffs. Even to Danilo, it seemed a clumsy and halfhearted meet

  “Jarun hurt his shoulder yesterday,” explained a deep voice behind them. “He’s favoring one side too much.”

  Morgalla snorted, not bothering to turn around. “He’d do both sides a favor if’n he put down his staff and took up tapestry.”

  Danilo turned at the familiar, hearty laughter that the dwarf’s comment evoked. Behind them stood Caladorn, dressed for the practice field in leggings and a linen shirt, which was unlaced nearly to the waist The short red curls on his head and on his well-muscled chest glistened in the bright midday sun.

  “Sweet Sune!” Danilo exclaimed, casting an arch glance at Caladorn’s state of half-dress. “What sort of events are you preparing for, and where can I sign up?”

  Caladorn laughed again and patted the sword at his hip. “It’s hot work, Dan, swinging seven pounds of steel in the midday sun.”

  When Danilo responded with a delicate shudder, the swordsman chuckled and clapped him on the back. “You’ll not take me in with that act, lad! If I recall aright, you had the same swordmaster as did your brother Randor, and he’s a fine hand with a sword. Would you care for a match? I could use a bit of a challenge.”

  “If you would for one moment consider me a challenge, things here must be in a sorry state,” Danilo said lightly.

  Caladorn’s handsome face turned grim, and he raised a hand in the gesture of a fencer acknowledging a hit “I’ll tell you all about it some time over a few tankards.”

  “How about now?”

  “I wish I could, but I had to stop by the palace on tournament business, and I can’t afford to take any more time from the training. The games are tomorrow, and there remains much to do. I’ve got to put these boys and girls through their paces,” Caladorn said, eyeing the field with a resigned expression.

  The firm manner in which Caladorn spoke, not to mention the indisputable evidence in the contestants around them, gave Danilo little hope of changing the fighter’s mind. He was about to take his leave when Caladorn spoke again.

  “The stableboy said you’ve been waiting for me an hour and more. I’m sorry for that, Dan, but I ran into Khelben on my way to the field, and he kept me talking for some time. You know how the good archmage can run on.”

  “Only too well,” Danilo replied with a rueful grin. In truth, he thought Caladorn’s comment rather odd. His Uncle Khelben was not given to idle, social chitchat. The Harper decided to probe for a bit more information. “Don’t tell me, Caladorn: you tried to talk the archmage into giving you a love potion to slip into Lady Thione’s wine!”

  The fighter good-naturedly shrugged away Danilo’s teasing.

  “I knew it!” Danilo crowed. “I’ve been wondering how a pitiful specimen such as yourself managed to hold the lovely lady’s interest”

  A wistful expression crossed Caladorn’s face. “To tell you the truth, there is little I wouldn’t do to win the lady’s heart, barring that,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “I have asked Lucia for her hand, but she is not yet ready to entrust it. When that day comes, I am determined to be worthy of the honor.”

  The words were put forth simply, with a dignity and an old-fashioned courtliness that reminded Danilo of the knights of an earlier time. The love and reverence in Caladorn’s eyes when he spoke of his lady made Danilo feel vaguely ashamed of his earlier jest After promising Caladorn a match at a later time, he and Morgalla left the tournament field.

  “Where to?” the dwarf asked.

  “We’re to meet the others at the Broken Lance, a tavern not far from here,” Danilo said, leading the
way down a side street “Let’s hope that one of them has fared better than we have!”

  * * * * *

  While her troublesome houseguest took a midday nap, Lucia Thione slipped away from her villa and hurried to Caladorn’s townhouse in the Castle Ward. To her dismay, she found all the cupboards locked. Her young lover was not at home. His manservant did not have the keys, but he informed her that Caladorn had left early, and that he’d had business with the archmage.

  Although society deemed the hour far too early to be making calls, the noblewoman went at once to Blackstaff Tower. She was greeted at the wall by the Lady Arunsun and graciously received. Lucia felt uneasy in the beautiful mage’s presence—the noblewoman often had the feeling that those wicked silver eyes saw far too much—but she entered the tower with Laeral and accepted a goblet of iced pomegranate nectar. After the usual exchange of social amenities, Lucia asked for the archmage.

  “He is not here, I’m afraid,” Laeral said, and her bare shoulders—at this time of the day!—lifted in a graceful, apologetic shrug.

  Despite the mage’s polite words, Lucia got the distinct impression that Laeral was not at all displeased with the situation. The noblewoman’s tiny chin firmed and lifted to an imperious angle. “Would you be so good as to tell me where I might find him? Or Caladorn, for that matter?”

  Silver eyes twinkled, and a dimple flashed briefly on the mage’s face. “I regret that such goodness is beyond me,” Laeral murmured. “Khelben left the tower early this morning, and he did not mention his destination.”

  Before the frustrated noblewoman could respond, a young gold elf entered the reception hall, a silver lyre in his arms. He paused when he noted Lady Thione and made her a deep bow. The irrepressible Laeral dimpled and winked at the newcomer.

  “Lady Thione, may I present Wyn Ashgrove. He is a minstrel and our guest at the tower. Wyn, Lady Thione is of the old royal family of Tethyr. Perhaps you might honor her with a song from her homeland?”

  The elf agreed. He promptly seated himself and began to play a familiar melody on his silver lyre. His voice was high and sweet, and his skill remarkable, yet Lucia Thione had difficulty sitting through the elf’s well-meaning performance. For one thing, she’d had entirely too much to do with bards of late! Even more exasperating was the amused gleam in Laeral’s silver eyes. The mage was clearly aware of Lucia’s eagerness to be off, and she was deliberately detaining her guest in a fashion that the noblewoman could not dismiss without displaying an appalling lack of breeding. Angry at being toyed with in such a fashion, Lucia Thione seethed throughout the elf’s song. Despite Laeral’s power, beauty, charm, and social position as Khelben Arunsun’s lady, the mage remained somewhat of a rogue. With such a base trick, Lucia thought with a touch of malice, Laeral revealed herself as the common wench that she was!

  As soon as the last silvery chord faded into silence, Lucia Thione rose to her feet “Thank you for your lovely tribute, Master Ashgrove,” she said, using her most regal tones to hide how flustered she truly felt. “Please accept in return this small tribute to your skills.” She reached into her money purse and selected one of several small coin bags. She handed it to the elf. He rose and accepted it with a polite bow.

  The noblewoman’s farewell to the lady mage was as frosty as propriety allowed. Although Laeral did not appear to realize that she had been put in her place, at least she had the decency to escort Lady Thione to the street without further mockery.

  Lucia settled into her carriage, deeply troubled by the morning’s events. Bergand would not be leaving for Nimbral until after the Midsummer Faire, and Garnet could not be put off. She would not wait that long for a helm of a Lord of Waterdeep, and the only one Lucia had a hope of procuring was Caladorn’s. Unless she got it quickly, she stood the risk of being unveiled before Garnet and the Knights of the Shield. The helm she must have, right away, and at any cost.

  With a deep sigh, she resolved herself to the necessary course of action. Tapping briskly on the carriage glass, she got the driver’s attention and instructed him to take her to Diloontier’s Apothecary. The posh shop, located in the heart of the Castle Ward, catered to the needs of wealthy ladies and dandies who required herbal and magical balms, perfumes, and potions, and it possessed a sterling reputation and a clientele that included many of those whose names were featured on society’s first-choice guest lists. Diloontier also had a startling array of poisons and potions, which he secretly sold to those who had the appropriate credentials and the right amount of gold. Unfortunately for Caladorn, Lucia possessed both.

  * * * * *

  When Danilo and Morgalla arrived at the Broken Lance, Wyn Ashgrove was waiting for them, looking strangely out of place amid the athletes and fighters who frequented the tavern. The elf waved them over to his table. “Khelben Arunsun could not come. He sends his regrets. Do you have any news?”

  “Less than I’d like,” Danilo replied, taking a seat at the large circular table. The Harper ordered wine and sipped at it absently while Wyn told them about the recent events in Waterdeep. The rumored disappearances of the Lords of Waterdeep concerned the Harper deeply, not only for the city, but because his uncle and mentor was among that group. Not that Khelben had ever admitted to these disappearances, but Danilo had no doubt that the rumors at least in this instance were accurate. Wyn’s news also cast a sinister light on the prophecy in the spell scroll: the lord to fall on the field of triumph would most likely be one of the Lords of Waterdeep.

  “Ready to order?” The serving woman, a former city champion in both jousting and swordplay, gave the question an inflection that suggested the talkative party would be advised to either order immediately, vacate the tavern, or draw weapons.

  “Another round of drinks,” Danilo suggested, “some bread and cheese for the table, a bowl of bitter greens with summer herbs, and three servings of the eel pie. You must try it; it’s a house specialty,” he informed Morgalla and Wyn.

  “Bring four servings,” corrected Elaith Craulnober, coming to the table with a silent grace that startled everyone there.

  “You!” Danilo leaped to his feet. “I don’t believe you actually showed up! You’ve got more nerve than a drunken ogre.”

  The moon elf rocked back on his heels, surprised by the Harper’s vehemence. “Have I missed something? We did agree to meet here at highsun.”

  “That was before you stole the spell scroll.”

  “Wait a minute,” Elaith demanded, taking a step toward the angry Harper. “The spell scroll is gone?”

  “What? Is there an echo in here?”

  Elaith let out a long hiss of exasperation and sank into a chair. “Vartain!” he said with disgust.

  “Vartain?” echoed Morgalla and Wyn, in unison and disbelief.

  “You heard me. He’s a better thief than a riddlemaster, although he doesn’t like to advertise the fact By the way, Lord Thann, it was he who separated you from your magic ring.”

  “He is good,” Danilo muttered as he resumed his seat.

  The servant came back with their meal. “Anything to drink?” she asked the moon elf.

  “A large bottle of your best gold firewine.”

  Danilo’s eyebrows rose. The wine was both potent and expensive. “Are we celebrating or drowning our sorrows?” he asked.

  “Do whatever pleases you,” the rogue elf responded, leaning back in his chair. “The firewine is for me.”

  “Ah.” The Harper nodded sagely.

  “Who’s paying?” the server demanded bluntly.

  Before Danilo could reach for his purse, Wyn produced a large gold coin and held it out to the impatient woman. “This should more than cover the cost of the meal and the wine,” he said.

  Elaith’s amber eyes narrowed, and he snatched the coin from the gold elf’s hand. After a moment’s scrutiny, he demanded, “Where did you get this?”

  “It was given in tribute for an impromptu performance,” Wyn replied, looking both surprised and defensive. “Ma
ny of the People make their living with music, and there is no shame in my accepting payment. The gold was rightly earned.”

  “Only if you’ve taken up work as a thief or assassin,” Elaith retorted.

  “Look, I don’t care how you make the money. Just pass some of it over,” the server demanded.

  Danilo handed the woman several silver pieces and waved her on her way. The rogue elf’s words, combined with the size of the coin, reminded him of the coin Arilyn had given him in Tethyr. “How do you know all this?” he asked Elaith. “Seriously,” he added, before the rogue elf could put him off by stating the obvious.

  Elaith held out the coin and traced a finger around the circular pattern of runes along the edge. “See these markings? And this shield in the middle of the coin? This is the symbol of the Knights of the Shield, a secret society active mostly in the Southlands—”

  “I know who they are,” Danilo interrupted.

  “Then you also knew they are sworn enemies of the Lords of Waterdeep. These coins are used for several purposes: as payment, as a tribute for work well done, as a warning when given to an uncooperative lord or merchant, as a means of claiming responsibility for certain violent acts. Some coins even give the name of the agent”

  “How do you know so much?” Danilo asked.

  “Agents of the Knights show up in Waterdeep from time to time, and I’ve been forced to remove those who get too active,” Elaith admitted freely. “Although I bear little love for the Lords of Waterdeep, the present system works well for me, and it’s in my own best interest to help sustain it”

  “Big o’ him,” muttered Morgalla.

  “You have reason to believe the Knights of the Shield threaten Waterdeep and her Lords?” Danilo asked.

  Elaith nodded. “I’ve spent the night being bombarded with rumors that two new guilds are being organized for thieves and assassins.” When the Harper looked skeptical, Elaith added, “This has been verified by one of my best informants: a highly placed agent of the Kraken Society. His organization is not involved, but they do not disapprove.”