Elfshadow

Thirteen

Arilyn took off her cap and raked one hand through her hair. “Let me understand this. You stole the man’s account book?”

“Why not?” Danilo said mildly, stuffing the book back into his sack. “To whom is he going to complain? Let’s take a look at it over lunch, shall we? There’s a tavern nearby that has the most wonderful fried fish.”

“That was a stupid risk to take.”

The dandy smirked. “You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it first.”

“You may be right,” Arilyn admitted. “How did you get it? I didn’t see you take it out of the shop,” she said, allowing him to guide her down the street.

“Thank you,” he said as if he’d just been complimented. “Ah, here’s the tavern. The Friendly Flounder, and aptly named it is.”

Danilo ushered her into the small taproom, which was already filled with people and the pungent odors of ale and fried fish. Danilo ordered for them both. He ate quickly, then he carefully wiped his fingers free of grease and took out the book. On it were neat columns filled with some ornate eastern script.

“You can read that?” Arilyn asked.

“Not yet.”

Danilo cast a cantrip, a simple spell to discern language. Before his eyes, the flowing lines on the page shifted and wiggled, rearranging themselves into Common. “What do you know!” Danilo said admiringly. “It worked!”

“Resourceful, aren’t you?” Arilyn commented, observing him keenly.

“Occasionally, though often accidentally,” Danilo said. He turned the pages of the book, taking no more than a glance at each one. After several moments, he looked up. “I don’t think you’re going to like this.”

“Well?”

Danilo slid the book closer to Arilyn and turned to a page near the middle. “Look at this item. Elaith Craulnobur, purchased twenty uncut sapphires.” He flipped several pages and pointed. “Here’s his name again, as seller of a spellbook. Here he acquired a Cledwyll statue, and on this date he was really in the mood to shop. On the final page, there’s a notation concerning an inquiry by Elaith Craulnobur.” Danilo looked up and held Arilyn’s eyes. “It seems that the good elf is a regular customer.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s the elf we seek,” Arilyn pointed out.

“Don’t be too sure.” Danilo flipped back a few pages. “On this day the fence received a shipment of rare coins from Elaith Craulnobur. The coins were delivered by a man named Hamit, to whom the fence gave a receipt. Do I say ‘I told you so’ now, or shall I wait until you’re unarmed?”

“All right, you’ve made your point,” Arilyn conceded, “but how did you do that? You knew exactly where to turn each time.”

“The benefit of having an empty head, my dear, is that you can fill it with all manner of inconsequential things. I’ve an excellent memory, in addition to all my other gifts.”

“But—”

“Ah! Listen to this! This settles the matter, I should say.”

Danilo’s tone was so triumphant that Arilyn allowed herself to be distracted. She listened with growing dismay as Danilo read a list of goods received from Hamit, a list that included an enchanted snuffbox. She rose from the table and tossed down a few coins to pay for her uneaten fish.

“Where are we going now?” the dandy asked in a voice heavy with weary resignation.

“To see Elaith Craulnobur.”

Suddenly energized, Danilo leaped up from the table and followed the half-elf out of the tavern. “Arilyn, this is not a good idea. He isn’t going to like what you’ve got to say, and they don’t call him the Serpent without good cause.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Danilo grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Wait! I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we just turn the elf in to the authorities?”

“On what proof?”

That stopped him. “Well, what about those two men? Barth and Hamit? They both were murdered, one by magic and one by a dagger.”

Arilyn pulled away from the nobleman’s grasp and started purposefully back toward Adder Lane. “There is nothing to prove that Elaith Craulnobur was responsible for the death of those men.”

Danilo threw up his hands. “What would convince you? A signed confession?”

“Enough!” She snapped, stabbing a finger at him. “I’ve no time to argue. I’m going. You can come or not as you choose. If you’re afraid, stay here.”

Danilo sniffed disdainfully. “I’m not afraid of the elf, but I dislike being associated with such a scoundrel.”

“You’re with a suspected assassin,” she pointed out.

“Ah, but there’s a world of difference, my dear,” Danilo returned with a smug grin. He fell in beside Arilyn, his polished boots clicking along the stone streets as he kept pace with her. “Different planes, altogether. An assassin is colorful, and therefore, almost respectable. At any rate, this adventure shall make for a most interesting song.”

“Ever the bard,” she mocked.

“I just hope I live long enough to sing this tale,” he commented lightly.

There was more than enough truth in his jest to make Arilyn wince. “You’ve endeavored to deliver my shadow back to me, for which I thank you,” she said. “Please do not feel obliged to stay on my account.”

“You seem to forget that I, too, have a stake in finding this assassin,” Danilo reminded her. “He tried to kill me once, you know. It could well be that he’s the persistent type.”

“You’ve run from the assassin already,” Arilyn said. “Suddenly you’re eager to confront him?”

“Actually,” Danilo admitted, “no. I was hoping to be around when you caught up with him. It should be quite a show.” At Arilyn’s derisive sniff, he added defensively, “Well, someone has to be there to record the event for generations yet unborn. Can you think of a better means than a ballad, or a person better suited to the task than myself?”

“Yes.”

For once, Arilyn’s words seemed to pierce the noble’s inch-thick hide. Looking thoroughly insulted, Danilo subsided into silence and allowed the half-elf to tend to business. Quickly they retraced their steps to Adder Lane, pushing through crowds and weaving through the vendors and street entertainers that had cropped up everywhere like mushrooms after a summer rain. When they reached Elaith’s tavern, they were greeted by the new sign that hung over the doorway.

“The Hidden Blade, eh?” Danilo murmured. “Very reassuring.”

Arilyn did not bother to respond. She stalked through the tavern—this time Elaith’s giant doorkeeper did not attempt to hinder her—and threw open the door to the elf’s office. He was at his desk, going through what appeared to be bills of lading, and he looked up at the intruders with a chilling glare. Immediately his handsome face arranged itself in a smile of surprised welcome.

Without saying a word Arilyn tossed the snuffbox onto his desk. Elaith gave it a brief glance and said mildly, “Oh, so that’s where it went. Do you mind if I ask where you found it?”

“Do you know a man named Barth?” Arilyn said.

“Yes. I rather thought Barth had stolen it from me. He was inordinately fond of snuff and not at all happy with his partner for selling the snuffbox. Barth is dead, I take it?”

“Very.”

“Good. I paid a considerable sum for the spell that killed him. It’s always reassuring to know that one’s money was well spent.”

Arilyn exhaled deeply, disconcerted by the elf’s revelation. “You had him enspelled to die if he tried to reveal your name. Why?”

“My dear, I should think that would be obvious. One must occasionally employ a man such as Barth, but it is hardly in good form to advertise the fact.”

“Appearances must be maintained,” Danilo noted without a hint of sarcasm, though the others ignored him.

“Why was Barth following me?” Arilyn demanded.

“It’s rather a long story,” Elaith said. “Won’t you have a seat?”

“No.”

“As you will. I believe you’re acquainted with a man named Harvid Beornigarth?”

Arilyn straightened and folded her arms. “Sort of.”

“I’ve employed him and his men in the past, on such occasions when finesse is not essential. Several months ago I heard him ranting about an ‘elf-wench’ who fought with a two-handed grip. He vowed to find you and settle some imaginary score. Since I was curious to learn more about you, I sent along a man of my own with his band.”

“Barth.”

“Of course.”

Arilyn placed both hands on Elaith’s desk and leaned forward, her face full of quiet menace. “Why?” she repeated.

Elaith was silent for a moment. “I knew only one etriel who fought that way. I thought that you might be Z’beryl.”

Arilyn recoiled. Nothing could have prepared her for that answer. She was dimly aware than Danilo’s arm had circled her waist, that he was guiding her into a chair. “I think you’d better tell me what this is about,” she said in a dazed tone.

Elaith Craulnobur rose and walked to a window. He laced his long-fingered hands behind his back and gazed into the alley as if the answers to his past might be written there. “I grew up with Z’beryl on the island of Evermeet. We are related, although distantly. Many years ago we completely lost touch.”

“I don’t suppose you can support any of this,” Danilo said from his usual place behind Arilyn.

The elf shot a sidelong glance at the dandy. “Of course. I anticipated that Arilyn would be back, and I had certain items brought here to me.” He glided over to a wall safe and deftly opened it, taking out two silk-wrapped objects. The first he unwrapped and handed to Arilyn.

A small cry escaped the half-elf. She cradled the small oval frame in both hands, unable to look away from it. Danilo leaned down over her shoulder.

“Your mother?”

Arilyn could only nod. The portrait showed a young moon elf maiden, not quite a mature etriel, with long braids of sapphire silk and gold-flecked blue eyes. Beside her was a younger, happier version of Elaith Craulnobur. Both were dressed in ceremonial robes of silver and cobalt blue—betrothal robes? Arilyn raised incredulous eyes to the moon elf. His answering smile held an ancient sadness.

“There is also this,” Elaith said, unwrapping an ornate sword and laying it on the table before Arilyn. Runes ran the length of the blade, and a white, blue-flecked stone gleamed in its hilt.

“That’s a moonblade!” Danilo burst out, pointing.

“Don’t be so surprised, young man. These swords are not all that uncommon to my people. I know many who either carry or own them, although admittedly most of these elves live far away, either on Evermeet or in the far reaches of the Dales, near the old site of Myth Drannor.”

“You do not carry the moonblade?” Arilyn asked Elaith.

“That is so.”

“I thought that elf and blade could not be separated,” she said.

“While that is usually the case, this particular one is dormant. Whatever magic it once held is lost.”

Arilyn’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Z’beryl didn’t tell you about moonblades? No, I see that she did not.” Elaith leaned against the edge of the table and folded his arms. “Many centuries past, the first moonblade was elvencrafted in Myth Drannor. Although it was a magic sword it had but one inherent property: it could judge character. It could be wielded by only one person, and it was to be handed down from one generation to the next. With each generation, a new magical ability was added to the sword, and this was derived from the needs or nature of the wielder.” The elf paused and raised an eyebrow. “This much is familiar to you?” Arilyn merely nodded, not wishing to distract Elaith. “Do you know the purpose behind the moonblades’ creation?” he asked. She hesitated, then shook her head.

“I’m not entirely surprised,” Elaith said dryly. “You trained with Kymil Nimesin, did you not?”

“What of it?” Arilyn said, a trifle defensively.

“My dear etriel, in more ways than one Lord Kymil is of a dying breed. He still mourns the demise of Myth Drannor. Like many of his race, he is unable to come to terms with the changes that have swept Faerûn and transformed the destinies of the elven peoples. If Kymil knows the part moonblades bore in this, I doubt he could bring himself to speak of it.”

“I’m no scholar, and Kymil knows that. My only interest was the practical use of the sword. Kymil’s time was too valuable to waste on history lessons that I wouldn’t bother to remember.”

“More’s the pity,” Elaith said, then sighed. “But to continue. The Council of Myth Drannor foresaw that steps had to be taken to ensure the continuation of the ehren peoples on Faerûn. We moon elves are in many ways most like mankind, and of all the elven races we are the most adaptable and tolerant, and are therefore best able to act as liaison between the more reclusive elven races and the increasingly dominant humans. It was decided that a moon elf family would be ennobled and set up as rulers of the island of Evermeet. Moonblades were used to choose this family, in a process that lasted many centuries.”

Elaith picked up the dormant moonblade. “It was a simple process of elimination. As you know, a moonblade can confirm or decline each new wielder. The family who held the most moonblades for the longest period of time showed true nobility as well as a proven line of succession. They became the royal family.”

“What happens when a sword declines the chosen heir?” Danilo asked.

“Remember what happened to your finger when you tried to touch the moonblade?” Arilyn asked.

“Ouch.” Danilo winced. “A risky inheritance.”

“Precisely,” the quessir agreed. “The risk increases as time progresses, for as a moonblade becomes more powerful, it becomes harder to handle. Few prove worthy of the task. Not every unworthy heir dies upon drawing the sword, however. If he or she is the last member of a line, the sword’s task—testing the bloodline’s nobility—is completed and it becomes dormant.” The elf’s hand absently touched the white stone set in his moonblade.

“Such as your sword,” said Danilo.

“Such as my sword,” Elaith echoed softly. He looked up at Arilyn and admitted, “I am the last in the Craulnobur line, the only child of an only son. The sword came into my possession shortly after that portrait was made.” A faint, self-deprecating smile curved his lips but did not reach his eyes. “It would seem that the sword knew more about me than I, at that time, understood about myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Arilyn said softly.

“So was I. On the basis of the moonblade’s choice, my betrothal was nullified. Rather than remain in Evermeet and live with the stigma, I chose to come to Waterdeep and carve out a niche for myself. The rest is a matter of record and—” the elf broke off and made an ironic bow to Danilo “—rumor.”

“This is all very touching,” Danilo drawled. “It explains your interest in Arilyn but, unfortunately, little else.”

“What else would you like to know?”

Danilo picked up Perendra’s snuffbox from the table. “Let’s get back to this. How did you get it?”

“I bought the snuffbox from a fence.”

“Jannaxil.”

Elaith’s silver eyebrows arched. “Very good, young man. And I suppose you know where he got it, as well?”

“From Hamit. Waterdeep seems to be a small city.”

“At the moment, I’m inclined to agree,” the elf said, eyeing Danilo with distaste. “Yes, at my request Barth and his partner Hamit broke into the mage’s home to retrieve one particular item, a spellbook. She surprised them, and they killed her. They made the mistake of plundering the place and selling the stolen items. I learned of this when I saw Perendra’s snuffbox in Jannaxil’s shop. I purchased the box and took it to my home, then I went to deal with Hamit.”

“You killed him,” Danilo specified.

“Of course. I would have seen to Barth as well, but while I was taking care of Hamit, he apparently retrieved the box and left for Evereska. Fortunately the spell seems to have done the trick.” He paused. “By then several Harpers had fallen to the assassin. Even though Perendra alone had not been branded, I wanted to leave no possibility that her accidental death would be placed on my doorstep, bringing with it the label of Harper Assassin. I do not care to wear that particular mantle.”

“You’re very forthcoming about all this,” the nobleman said with a touch of bewilderment.

Elaith looked faintly surprised. “Surely you’ve heard that there is honor between thieves. Assassins have a similar code.” The elf turned to Arilyn. “By the way, I have some of the information you requested.” He returned to the safe and took out several sheets of parchment, one of which he handed to Arilyn. “I acquired something this morning that belongs to you. You certainly don’t want this to fall into the wrong hands.”

Not understanding, Arilyn scanned the sheet. “This is directed to the Zhentarim at Zhentil Keep.”

“Yes. I came across it while looking into the background of the Harper Assassin.”

Arilyn winced involuntarily. Elaith took in her reaction with an amused smile on his face. “Perhaps now, all things considered, we can dispense with the pretense.”

“Pretense?”

“Oh, come now,” he chided her gently. “Truly, I admire your plan. Quite devious. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to arrange my affairs so that I could collect simultaneous fees from both the Harpers and the Zhentarim.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, aghast.

“Why, your scam, of course.” He smiled. “It is brilliant, although not without risks. A Harper agent, working for the Zhentarim. Whatever their other shortcomings may be, the Black Network is certainly known to pay well. As a Zhentarim enforcer, you provide them with a valuable service: culling their ranks of the unruly, the inconvenient, and the inept. The Harpers are pleased to see you ridding the world of vermin.” Elaith chuckled. “Harpers and Zhentarim, united at last. What delightful irony!”

Elaith’s amusement broke off abruptly. The tip of Arilyn’s moonblade was held firmly at his throat.

“I do not work for the Zhentarim,” Arilyn stated, her voice bubbling with suppressed rage. “Where did you get such an idea?”

“Well, what do you know?” Danilo marveled. “I’ve been baying at the wrong raccoon, after all.”

Arilyn shot a furious glance at him. “Danilo, this is not the time—”

“Don’t you see?” the nobleman persisted. “The elf you’re about to skewer is innocent. Well, I don’t suppose you can claim that he’s innocent, precisely, but on the other hand he’s not exactly guilty. Er, that is to say—”

“Out with it!”

“Elaith Craulnobur thinks that you are the Harper assassin!” Danilo blurted out. “Which means, of course, that he is not.”