The two watchmen listened to the elf’s harangue with open mouths and dumbfounded expressions. Danilo’s palm itched for the feel of his sword, but something in Arilyn’s face stayed his hand.
“Well met, Tintagel,” she replied calmly. “I must admit that your appearance is something of a surprise, as well. Few of your race wear such a uniform.”
The elf’s eyes narrowed, and Danilo could only assume that her seemingly innocuous words housed an insult.
“My presence in the watch is a matter of honor,” he said, both his voice and expression a bit defensive.
“Really? Although I have utmost respect for the watch, I would not have thought that you would consider it an honorable position.”
“By and large, the watch is a pitiful jest,” Tintagel said spitefully, not noting the angry scowls this comment brought to the faces of his men. “Someone has to see that it provides a semblance of order to this lawless pile of clinking coins you call a city.”
“You’re that someone? How fortunate for all of us in Waterdeep,” Danilo said, an amused drawl in his voice. There was a certain unintentional humor in the elf’s remark. In truth, Waterdeep was well-ruled and orderly, a city whose laws were enforced and respected.
The elf’s dark gaze slid over Danilo and dismissed him, then he turned back to Arilyn. “My own father was shot through the heart in the mountains of Waterdeep.” His hand drifted to his side and clenched around an arrow shaft that hung at his belt. Danilo caught a glimpse of an oddly shaped black mark on the wood of the shaft. “I devote my life to avenging his death by ridding the city of such vermin as killed Fenian Ni’Tessine,” Tintagel proclaimed grimly.
“A worthy quest it is,” Danilo said, his tone clearly humoring the elf. “If it’s all the same to you, we’ll leave you to it now.” He took Arilyn’s arm and led her toward the stables. The half-elf came with him, her coldly polite expression frozen on her face.
“I’ll get the horses,” Danilo offered. Arilyn nodded absently, her attention fixed on the long wooden trough near the door of the stable. At one end of the trough stood a hand pump. Arilyn snatched up an empty feed bucket and walked to the well. She pumped water into the bucket and, dipping her cupped hands into the water again and again, viciously scrubbed and splashed the gold stain from her face and hands. There was a sound of ripping silk as she jerked off the tabard, too impatient to wait for the illusion to fade. The half-elf threw the ruined garment aside and stood, wearing her own identity like a defiant banner.
“Much better,” Danilo said and handed her the reins of her horse. “That particular shade of gold was not becoming to you, and judging from the specimen we just encountered, the Tel’Quessir—whatever the Nine Hells they might be—are damnably unpleasant folk.”
Fifteen
Against Danilo’s better judgment, he and Arilyn left Waterdeep and rode into the night. The bright autumn moon was high in the sky as they headed south along the cliffs overlooking Waterbreak, a small peninsula of rock and sand that jutted into the sea and protected the southern section of Waterdeep’s harbor. In the bright moonlight they could see the rocky shoreline below and the promise of safety given by the city walls that lay to their north. An empty promise, Danilo mused, considering the events of the past three days.
He had plenty of time to think of such things during their flight from Waterdeep. Arilyn said very little as they rode, and for once Danilo did not press her. He gave her all the distance and solitude she needed, the better to catch her off guard at the proper moment. Tonight he planned to force a confrontation.
The nobleman was not looking forward to his task, yet if he and Arilyn were to find the Harper Assassin they had to change the direction of their search. The conversation with Elaith Craulnobur had convinced Danilo that Uncle Khelben was right: the moonblade was the key to finding the assassin. Danilo wished he could simply tell Arilyn what he knew of the sword’s history, but to do so would dispel his facade.
Since Arilyn seemed so distracted, Danilo took it upon himself to keep eyes and ears alert for danger. For all its riches and splendor, Waterdeep had been carved from a wild and dangerous land. “The Savage North,” spiteful southerners called the area, and they were not far wrong. To the north and west of Waterdeep lay noble estates and rich farmland, but the southern path took Danilo and Arilyn into wilderness. As they reached the brush and pines that formed the far edges of the Ardeep Forest, Arilyn reined her horse to a stop.
“We make camp here. I’ll hunt, you tend to the horses.” Without waiting for a response, the half-elf swung herself down from her saddle, armed herself with a small bow and quiver, and disappeared into the trees.
As he set up camp, Danilo tried to devise a manner of broaching the subject of the moonblade. He considered and discarded one idea after another. Danilo groomed and tethered the horses, then gathered some stones and ringed them. After piling wood in the circle, he trimmed two forked sticks to the same length and thrust them into the ground on either side of the campfire, planning to roast whatever Arilyn’s arrow brought down.
Something about the act of preparing a campfire gave him a jolt of inspiration. He had collected bits of information about Arilyn like pieces of a puzzle, and the prospect of fire gave him the final, crucial piece. He sat down near the stone circle and waited for the half-elf.
When Arilyn returned to camp with a pair of partridges, Danilo rose and continued with his chores. He threw a few sticks of wood into the circle, then he reached into his sack for a bit of flint. Keeping his movements slow and exaggerated, he stooped down and pointed the piece of flint at the stone circle. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the half-elf stop cutting a branch from a bush and fling out her hand as if to stop him.
Deliberately taking no notice of her, Danilo murmured, “Dragonbreath.” The flint in his hand disappeared and bright flames burst from the wood, sending a spray of golden sparks into the night sky. After the initial burst, the magic fire immediately settled down and became a cozy, crackling blaze.
“Didn’t I tell you not to do that?”
Danilo rose and turned, hands in pockets, to face the furious half-elf. “You might have,” he drawled. “I can’t imagine why, though.”
“I don’t like magic fire, that’s all.” Arilyn settled herself crosslegged on the ground and began to prepare a spit. She removed the leaves from a branch and started to whittle the end of the green stick into a sharp point.
“Can I help with anything?”
The half-elf tossed the partridges to Danilo, indicating that he was to pluck the birds. The nobleman briskly set about the task. When the spit was ready, Arilyn glanced up. “Aren’t you done with those birds yet?” she asked sharply.
Danilo handed her the first partridge. The half-elf spitted the bird and rather gingerly put the stick over the fire.
It was as good an opening as any. “Really, my dear,” Danilo said as he busily plucked the second partridge, “don’t you think that your aversion to magic fire is a little foolish?”
“Foolish!” Arilyn’s eyes flared. She sat down and wrapped her arms tightly around her knees. “You are a fine one to use such words. Everything is a game for you. Magic is for parlor tricks, the Harper Assassin is merely a subject for your third-rate songs.”
“Perhaps ‘foolish’ was an unfortunate choice of words,” Danilo said.
Seeing that the second partridge was ready, the half-elf took it from the nobleman. Removing the spit from the fire, she put the second bird to roast. When her task was completed she turned to Danilo again. Her face seemed more composed, but her elven eyes burned with anger and remembered pain.
“Magic fire went awry during the Time of Troubles. Many died, many good people …” Her voice faded away.
“Someone you knew?” Danilo asked softly.
Arilyn nodded. “I traveled at the time with a group of adventurers called the Hammerfell Seven. One of them was a mage. She attempted to use a fireball spell against an ogre. The whol
e party went up in flames. Except me, obviously,” she concluded bitterly.
“I wonder why you escaped?”
Arilyn ignored his question. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen magic fire used in battle. I have. The devastation war wizards create is beyond imagination. You should see what Thay’s Red Wizards have done to parts of Rashemen, or what the Alliance’s mages did to the Tuigan during King Azoun’s crusade against the barbarians. But then, none of the Waterdhavian nobility thought the crusade important enough—” Arilyn broke off and hurled a stick into the fire. “You are so pampered, so protected, so comfortable. You can’t possibly understand me, so don’t sit in judgment and pronounce me foolish for fearing what you cannot possibly fathom.”
For several moments the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the cry of a hunting owl. “Perhaps you’re right,” Danilo conceded. “I know little of an adventurer’s life. I am, however, somewhat of an authority on women.”
His comment surprised an exasperated hiss from Arilyn. “I don’t doubt it. Your expertise means little to me. I am not a woman, but an elf.”
“A half-elven woman. That’s close enough.”
“Really. Do you care to share any of your profound insights?” Her sarcasm was as sharp as a dagger’s edge.
“If you’d like,” Danilo said casually, and he pointed to the moonblade. “Take that sword, for example. You’re a little afraid of it, aren’t you?”
Arilyn drew herself up, as outraged as Danilo had intended her to be. “Of course not! Why would you say such a thing?”
“I’ve been thinking about some of the things Elaith Craulnobur said. It seems unusual that you know so little about your sword. By all accounts, it should be capable of a great deal of magic, and you barely tap the keg.”
“Trust you to use an expression involving ale,” Arilyn said with derision.
“Don’t change the subject, my dear. Magic—including magic fire—is a fact of life, a reliable and powerful tool.”
“Reliable? Ha!” Arilyn’s face was tight with fury. “If you’d seen your friends die by fire during the Time of Troubles, you’d change your thinking.”
“Waterdeep did not go unscathed during that unfortunate period,” Danilo reminded her mildly. “From all accounts, it was quite nasty. Waterdeep suffered street battles with denizens of the underworld, the destruction of a god or two, and the resultant flattening of a good chunk of the city.”
“From all accounts?” she repeated. “Where were you when all this happened?”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “In the basement of the family estate, drinking.” She glared at him, and he added defensively, “It seemed the only sane thing to do at the time.”
Arilyn sniffed and fell silent. After several moments, she glanced at her annoying companion. He lounged indolently by the fire, watching her. His face was sympathetic, but in the firelight his gray eyes looked uncommonly shrewd.
“Since you don’t agree with my observations, allow me to prove that my instincts are correct.”
“Go ahead,” she said.
“Remove the spit and walk through the fire.”
The half-elf gasped. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. I’m quite certain you can do it without injury or I wouldn’t suggest it. I’m so certain, in fact, that I’m prepared to make you an offer. You’ve been trying to rid yourself of me for some time now, haven’t you?”
“How perceptive.”
Danilo held up his hands. “If I’m wrong about this, I’ll leave. Tonight.”
Arilyn stared at him. He looked serious. Nodding, she abruptly rose to her feet. Scorched boots would be a small price to pay to rid herself of Danilo Thann.
She removed the spit and handed their sizzling meal to the nobleman, then stepped directly into the middle of the campfire and out the other side. The burning sticks crunched under her boot, sending sparks flying around her. A few bits of burning wood and ash landed on the sleeve of her shirt. Arilyn quickly moved to brush them off, but other sparks clung to the legs of her trousers like tiny glowing lanterns. She noted that the fabric did not even blacken.
The half-elf dropped to her knees beside the campfire. She thrust her hand into the flames and kept it there. There was a sensation of heat, but no pain. She sat back on her heels and glared at Danilo. “You enspelled the fire.”
In response, the dandy reached into his magic sack and pulled out a pair of gloves. He slipped one on and stuck his hand into the fire. The smell of burned kidskin filled the air. Danilo stripped off the scorched glove and tossed it into her lap. “You owe me a new pair,” he said lightly.
Arilyn stared down at the ruined glove. “Do you mind telling me what this is about?”
“Isn’t is obvious? You are magically protected from fire. The tragedy of the Hammerfell Seven, not to mention your little stroll through the campfire, proves that. Really, my dear, it’s not like you to be so dense.”
Her laughter held little amusement. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”
“Let me put this another way: would you care to repeat the exercise, this time without the moonblade?” He crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow.
After a moment of silence, Arilyn raised her hand in the gesture of a fencer acknowledging a hit. Danilo pressed his point. “Your aversion to magic fire gives you a blind spot. The sword obviously has one ability you didn’t consider. Isn’t it possible that there are others?”
“I suppose.”
“Well, let’s find out what they are, shall we?”
Arilyn replaced the spitted birds over the fire with the air of one determined to attend to practicalities. “I have more pressing duties.”
“Such as finding the assassin.”
“Yes.”
Danilo pointedly swept a gaze around their wilderness campsite. “Why are we out here?”
Arilyn’s shoulders slumped. “No matter what I do, the assassin keeps following me. Not to kill me—he probably could have done that a dozen times—but as the pawn in some grisly game. I don’t understand his motive, but until I figure it out I don’t want to be responsible for any more Harper deaths.” She hurled another stick at the fire. “There are no Harpers out here to kill.”
“Is it possible,” Danilo suggested tentatively, “that the assassin wants you for the powers of your sword?”
Bitterness flooded the half-elf’s face. “Of course it’s possible. The sword and I are inseparable.”
“All the more reason for investigating your sword’s magic. Once you know what the moonblade can do, you’ll be able to figure out the assassin’s ultimate motive. Once you know the motive, you have a chance of discerning the villain’s identity.”
Arilyn stared at the dandy in amazement. There was truth in his words, and more than a little wisdom. “How did you figure all this out?’
“Quite easily. After all,” he said grandly, “magic is my specialty.” Danilo drew back with a melodramatic flourish. “Really, my dear. If you were to advise me as an assassin, I would take your word as that of an expert. I expect you to extend me the same courtesy.”
He rose to his feet and flounced off, settling down on a log on the other side of the fire, the very picture of offended dignity. Arilyn grinned despite herself. Generally she didn’t find foolishness endearing, but Danilo made it an art form and raised it to a level that commanded a certain respect.
Danilo caught sight of her smile. “What’s so funny?” he demanded in a sullen voice. The half-elf blinked. His insight had momentarily led her to assume that his foolishness was an act. Looking at him now, she wasn’t so sure.
Arilyn wiped her face clear. “I can’t imagine. All right, Danilo, you win. I’ll find out everything I can about the sword.” She rose to her feet. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” Danilo protested, with a longing glance at the sizzling partridges.
“I like to keep busy.”
; They were very busy indeed for the next hour. After they kicked the fire into ash, Danilo placed simple magical wards around the campsite to protect the horses from night-stalking predators. He and Arilyn carefully climbed down the rocky incline that led to the sea, then they headed northward along the coastline of the Waterbreak peninsula. Even with the fight of the bright autumn moon to guide them, they had to pick their way carefully along the jagged rocks of the shoreline.
At the very tip of Waterbreak stood a natural formation of black rocks, the lower part of which was submerged in the sea. Small crustaceans clung to the base of the rock, and several jagged points thrust skyward like small turrets. On the whole, Danilo thought, it looked like a drunken mage’s attempt at conjuring a miniature castle.
Arilyn reached into a niche in the rock formation and drew out a small leather box. From it she took a silver pan pipe. As a fascinated Danilo looked on, she put the instrument to her lips and played a few notes. The silvery tones rang out over the water, shimmering there like moonlight.
“Nice tune,” Danilo observed. “What do we do now?”
“We wait.”
Arilyn motioned Danilo toward a pile of rocks some hundred yards away. He obediently withdrew and settled down to wait, and Arilyn stationed herself at the point of Waterbreak and gazed out over the water with elven patience.
The nobleman could not gauge how long they stared out to sea. After a time he noted that a ripple disturbed the still silver surface of the water to the south. Assuming their wait was nearly over, he rose and brushed the lichen and sand from the seat of his trousers. Arilyn flung out a hand to halt him, then she gestured for him to stay back and stay quiet. Again Danilo did as he was bid.
The ripple appeared twice more, each time closer, then the surface of the water was broken by a glossy black head. Danilo watched in amazement as a large seal-like creature emerged from the sea. As it climbed onto the rocky strand beside Arilyn, the nobleman noted that its body ended in legs rather than tapering to the flippers of a seal. The creatures’s black eyes shone with intelligence, and it reached out to clasp Arilyn’s forearm in the salute of fellow adventurers. In the bright moonlight Danilo could discern that its hands were like that of a man, albeit covered with dark fur and webbed between the fingers.
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