“It must be nice to have friends in low places,” Danilo murmured absently. He claimed Wyn’s coin from the rogue elf and studied it. In the center of the Knights’ distinctive shield was a familiar rune. “I know this symbol!” he exclaimed. “This is the mark of one Lord Hhune of Tethyr. He’s master of the shipping guild there, and I managed to annoy him repeatedly during my sojourn in that land.”
“That I can well imagine,” Elaith said. He looked at the Harper with a touch of amusement. “You may be interested to know that Lord Hhune is now in Waterdeep. By all accounts, he is organizing the city’s thieves and assassins, but he may have time to spare for you. Is he the persistent type, do you think?”
“I can see that your day is made,” Danilo said dryly. He turned to the gold elf. “Who gave you this coin, Wyn?”
“A lady of Tethyr, who came to Blackstaff Tower early this morning seeking the archmage. Her name escapes me, I’m afraid.” The minstrel smiled apologetically. “I was contemplating Lady Laeral’s smile and did not take notice.”
“I won’t pass that on to my uncle. What did this visitor look like?”
Wyn considered. “She was small and slender, with olive skin and large dark eyes. Her nose was narrow and slightly aquiline, and her hair was a gleaming dark chestnut hue, elegantly dressed in coils and ringlets. I found her decolletage a bit extreme, but this is after all Waterdeep.”
“Mercy! I’d love to know what you’d see if you were taking notice. Remind me to ask you about the special properties of your elven heat vision at some later time. Was the lady wearing purple?”
“I believe so. If this is any help, she was seeking the archmage and someone else, as well. I believe the name was—”
“Caladorn?”
“Yes, that’s it The Lady Laeral said that he and Khelben had an appointment to meet this morning. Is that important?”
The Harper nodded slowly as he put together the pieces of information, then he buried his head in his hands. He had to warn Caladorn, but in light of their earlier conversation, the situation was extremely delicate. Before he could confront the lovestruck young lord, he would have to confirm his suspicions.
“What is it?” Morgalla demanded, elbowing Danilo sharply.
He raised weary eyes to his dwarven friend. “You can have my portion of eel pie, Morgalla. I must return to Blackstaff Tower.”
“That ain’t the place to be at mealtime, lessen yer prepared to do the cookin’ yerself,” the dwarf observed.
“Yes. My sentiments precisely, but it can’t be helped. After you eat, Morgalla, why don’t you head down to Virgin’s Square and see what more you can find out about these proposed guilds. Find old Blazidon One-Eye and claim to be looking for work. He knows who’s hiring whom. Also, his bodyguard is a dwarf. Think he might be susceptible to your charm?”
“Never met me a dwarf who wasn’t,” Morgalla replied with a twinkle in her brown eyes. “I’ll meet you back at yer townhouse at sunset”
“What would you like the rest of us to do?” Wyn asked softly.
“Keep looking for the Morninglark harp, of course. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye out for Vartain, as well.”
“Rest assured, I’ll find that treacherous buzzard,” Elaith said.
Danilo gazed thoughtfully at the moon elf. If Elaith were to find the sorceress first, the elf would no doubt abscond with the harp, and he would have no hope of reversing the spell. “Why don’t you go along with our partner, Wyn, just to keep things rolling along on the right path?”
Elaith’s silver brows rose, and he nodded approvingly at the Harper. “Very good, young man. There may yet be hope for you.”
“I live for your approval,” Dan said as he rose from his chair. “Now, if you will all excuse me, I must attend to a most unpleasant task.”
“One moment,” Elaith said. The moon elf paused and cast his eyes toward the ceiling, as if he could not believe what he was about to do. “I recognized Lady Thione from the minstrel’s description. Perhaps you should know that one of her servants secretly paid for a satirical performance at the Three Pearls club. The payment was made with Hhune’s marked coin.”
Danilo stared at the elf for a moment, then he nodded his thanks. He left the tavern and made his way quickly to Blackstaff Tower. He found Khelben and Laeral at midday meal, eating more of the lentil stew of which the archmage was so perversely fond.
“Caladorn said he met with you this morning,” Danilo said without preamble. “Is that true?”
Khelben laid down his spoon and fixed keen black eyes on his nephew. “Why do you ask?”
Danilo took a deep breath and threw diplomacy down the cistern. “I need to know whether Caladorn is one of the Lords of Waterdeep.”
“The identities of the Lords are secret You know that”
“There’s no time to hedge! To whom do you think that spell scroll was referring when it spoke of a lord falling on the field of triumph?”
“I have already considered that,” Khelben told him, “and it was for that reason that I met with young Caladorn this morning. He is in charge of the tournament, and he is of noble birth. I advised him to withdraw from the games; barring that, I warned him to take whatever precautions he could.”
Danilo placed both hands on the table and leaned down to glare into his uncle’s eyes. “What would you say if I told you that Caladorn’s ladylove, Lucia Thione, is an agent of the Knights of the Shield?”
The archmage’s eyes widened, and an uncharacteristically earthy expletive burst from him.
“Well!” Danilo straightened up. “That’s not what I thought you’d say, to be sure, but apt nonetheless. May I take that as a confirmation?”
When Khelben again hesitated, Laeral broke in. “Lucia Thione was here earlier looking for Caladorn. She seemed anxious, almost distraught. I agree with Danilo. Someone has to warn Caladorn at once. If you’d seen that woman’s face, you’d know that the dangers arrayed against him are not limited to the arena. Go, Dan.”
The archmage conceded with a grim nod.
“Unless you’d rather speak to him yourself?” Danilo asked, hope in his voice.
“Go!”
After receiving Khelben’s assurance that the city officials would take care of Lady Thione and Lord Hhune, Danilo went He retraced his way to the tournament field, and the memory of the love shining in Caladorn’s eyes haunted him as he went.
Fifteen
Caladorn was hard at work when Danilo arrived at the Field of Triumph. When the young lord saw Dan, he sheathed his sword and dismissed his opponent with a nod. He strode over to the entrance and greeted the younger man with enthusiasm.
“Here to give me that match you promised, are you?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“I won’t hear otherwise! You’ve a sword already; shed your cloak and let’s have a go.”
“Caladorn, I really must speak with you. It’s most important”
“So is sword practice. We can talk while we work.”
With a sigh, Danilo did as he was bid. Ideally, he preferred not to break bad news to an armed man. Yet he had little time to spare with arguments, and Caladorn was adamant. The Harper drew his sword and mirrored his friend’s salute, then blocked the first ringing blow. He retreated and then feinted to the left. Caladorn blocked easily and riposted.
“The Knights of the Shield are active in Waterdeep,” Danilo began as he blocked.
Caladorn chuckled and made a flamboyant advance, his right foot stamping. He danced back before the Harper could retreat “And how would a bard know of such things? Oh, yes, I know of your rapidly growing fame. You are planning a new ballad about these infamous spies, is that it?”
“Not immediately, no.” Dan again blocked, riposted, retreated. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll be blunt Lady Thione is one of their agents.”
Caladorn’s face darkened, and for a moment he lowered his sword. “You’re right, lad, you don’t know how to tell me an
ything of the sort.”
The Harper brought his sword up in time to fend off a high, downward strike. “She paid my associate with a coin bearing the Knights’ mark.”
“So? It was passed to her!”
“By whom?”
“How would I know!” Caladorn slammed his sword back into its scabbard and folded his arms.
“I can tell you that,” Danilo said softly as he sheathed his own blade. “Lord Hhune, a guildmaster of Tethyr and an agent of the Knights, is now here in Waterdeep, working to establish guilds for thieves and assassins.”
“So? This has nothing to do with Lucia! She is a merchant, and she has done business with Hhune in the past. He must have given the coin to her during a business transaction. She probably never knew she had it!”
“For your sake, I hope you’re right. It’s interesting, though, that one of Lucia Thione’s servants paid for a performance at the Three Pearls theater, using some of Hhune’s marked coins.”
Caladorn’s face went very still.
“I’m sorry about this, my friend, but can you afford to dismiss all suspicion?”
The fighter shook his head in astonishment “Why are you doing this, Dan? What could you possibly know of such matters?”
“I’m a Harper, Caladorn. It’s my job to know what’s going on.”
The young lord’s laughter was harsh. “I’m still trying to absorb the concept of your bardhood! Don’t stretch my credulity to the breaking point.”
“Nevertheless, all I’ve told you is true.”
“I’ll not hear another word against Lucia.” Caladorn glared at the younger man, controlling himself with visible effort. At long last he whirled and stalked away, leaving Danilo standing alone in the middle of the arena.
“Well,” the Harper said wryly, “that went better than I expected. Things could be worse.”
His words were met by a boom of thunder. Dark purple clouds began to gather over the Field of Triumph, and a flash of lightning ripped across the livid sky.
“You’d think I’d learn not to say things like that,” Danilo muttered to himself as he sprinted through the first streaks of rain.
* * * * *
After Danilo left Blackstaff Tower, Khelben Arunsun strode quickly through the underground passages that led to Piergeiron’s palace. The unmasked Lord commanded the combined forces of the guard and the watch, and his command would be needed to arrest important persons such as Hhune and Lady Thione.
Hhune’s presence in Waterdeep had been noted, and he would have been carefully watched under any circumstances. As a guildmaster, Hhune was a powerful force in Tethyr. This made his connection with the Knights of the Shield all the more disturbing, for it combined two powers hostile to Waterdeep and to her Lords. But he was also a wealthy, traveling merchant, and these were always welcome in Waterdeep. By rescinding this welcome, Piergeiron risked endangering trade between Waterdeep and Tethyr. It was a delicate matter, and no decision that the First Lord made would be entirely correct.
Khelben’s entrance to the palace was hidden in a small anteroom. He strode quickly through the halls toward the council room, noting as he went that the careful eyes of Piergeiron’s guard were upon him. Even here, he noted wearily, he could not escape the burden of suspicion that the bards’ songs had placed upon him.
“I will do what I can,” Piergeiron said once Khelben had related the story, “but it’s hard to believe that Lucia Thione is connected with Knights of the Shield. We will need more proof of guilt before taking steps against someone so powerful and popular. A quick sentence by the Lords of Waterdeep could bring about a good deal of resentment and unrest. Our decision to censor the bards was notoriously unpopular, and it backfired most decisively.”
“At least have Lady Thione followed,” the archmage insisted.
Piergeiron grimaced and pointed to the arched window of the audience chamber. “That will be difficult at present I doubt that she, or anyone else for that matter, will be going anywhere until that storm passes.”
Khelben glanced toward the window. Blue lightning flared against roiling purple clouds. “Wizard weather,” he muttered. A roll of thunder punctuated his words.
“In that case, can you undo it?” the First Lord asked anxiously.
“Not without a certain elven harp.”
“Really! I didn’t know you played.”
The archmage responded with a grim smile. “I don’t, but I’m beginning to think that perhaps I should have learned.”
* * * * *
By midafternoon the sky was as dark as night. Rain pelted the outdoor market, sending merchants and shoppers, street performers and pickpockets scurrying for cover. Taverns, festhalls, and shops filled to capacity and beyond as the townspeople and visitors sought shelter from the violent thunderstorm. On and on the rain went, past the time of sunset and the official beginning of Midsummer. In every tavern and festhall in the city, bards and performers recited to their captive audiences tales of past evil that had been foretold by Midsummer storms.
Danilo was alone on the street as he dashed through the rain toward the Elfstone Tavern. It seemed a likely place for a half-elven bard to go. At the very least, perhaps he could get some information about the Morninglark harp. He entered the crowded taproom—for once, the tavern had opened its doors to member of all races—and handed his sodden cloak to an elven servant.
Danilo made his way through the crowds to the hearth. He was soaked to the skin, tired to the point of exhaustion, and becoming increasingly uncertain of his success. All efforts to find Vartain had met with failure. Danilo and his friends had searched every likely place and made inquiries throughout the city. It was as if the riddlemaster had been snatched into another plane of existence. Finally, Danilo had left the exhausted Wyn at his townhouse to rest Morgalla had elected to stay behind, as well, not sure of her welcome in the elven tavern. With a profound sigh, Dan stretched his hands toward the hearth fire, hoping that the heat would restore a measure of feeling to his numb fingers.
“Well met, young bard,” said a dry, ancient voice at his elbow. Danilo looked down into the thin, patrician face of the elven priest Evindal Duirsar. “I would rise to greet you, but I fear that someone would steal my place from under me,” the elf said with a touch of humor as he regarded the mixed crowd. The tavern was strictly standing room only, and few of the surly, sodden patrons would respect the patriarch’s age or position. At the elf’s invitation, Danilo upended a log of firewood and made it into an impromptu chair at the small table.
“Your fame has multiplied since last we met,” the patriarch noted.
“Not as fast as the challenges,” Danilo murmured. He remembered another of his responsibilities: the rest of Elaith’s mercenaries would be arriving in Waterdeep in a few days, and with them would be the mad elven hermit of Taskerleigh. Dan asked Evindal if the temple would accept the elf as a ward. The patriarch listened to the story with keen interest.
“By all means, the unfortunate soul is welcome in the temple. Now, tell me more about your recent journey.”
To the wise and sympathetic elf, Danilo poured out the tale of a quest gone terribly awry, from the encounter with the dragon to the partnership with Elaith to the growing outcry against his uncle the archmage. He told Evindal of his personal quest to learn the art of elfsong, and he told of the spell scroll and the plot against the city. Finally, he spoke of the Morninglark harp, its power and its challenges.
“And I have pledged to hand the harp over to Elaith Craulnober when this is done,” Danilo concluded.
“Given all that is said of him, it is reasonable for you to assume that he will put the artifact’s power to evil purpose,” the patriarch said thoughtfully. After a moment of silence, he rose from the table. “There is nothing more you can do here, and you may find some of the answers you seek at the temple. Come, let us go at once.”
Despite his surprise, the Harper’s manners brought him to his feet “Humans are permitted?”
“The rain is still coming down in sheets,” Danilo observed.
“Yes,” the elf agreed, and then strode out into the storm.
The Harper followed. In time they came to a sweeping stairway of white marble, leading to a building complex defined by curving lines and surrounded by flowering plants. They hurried up the steps and into the corridor, where an elven servant took their cloaks. Evindal took Danilo down a corridor lined with doors. He tapped gently on one and cracked it open for a peek.
“Come in quietly,” the elf said, disappearing into the room.
Curious, Danilo followed. The room was softly lit by several floating, glowing balls of white light, and was furnished with comfortable chairs, a low table and a tiny stool, and a small bed. No expense had been spared in the room, for the furnishings were fine and costly, and wondrous toys were scattered about. On a velvet cushion near the bed curled a yellow kitten, and in the corner sat a white-robed elven woman. She smiled at Danilo and pointed toward the bed.
The Harper took a step closer and peered down. Sleeping there was an elven toddler, perhaps the most beautiful child he had ever seen. Tousled silvery curls clustered about her face, and a tiny golden thumb nestled in her mouth. The points of her little elven ears were still soft, folding over slightly at the tips. Her features were tiny and delicate, and her skin in the soft light appeared both rosy and golden.
“Who is she?” Danilo whispered.
“May I present the Lady Azariah Craulnober,” Evindal said softly.
Danilo looked up sharply. “Elaith’s daughter?”
“That is so. Last spring, his elven mistress bore him a child. It was a most unexpected pregnancy, troubled from the first. The mother died at childbirth, leaving our mutual friend with an heir. As time went on, it became important to him that his daughter should receive her birthright, and he came to me asking what might be done to restore magic to his moonblade. I bid him recover an artifact and bring it to the temple. He carries the sword now by elven law and tradition. I will not burden you with the particulars.”
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