The Dream Spheres

Twelve

The next morning dawned fair and bright. To the west of Waterdeep, past the north gates, lay a fair expanse of gently rolling meadow and a pleasant wood beyond. It was a favorite playground of the city's privileged class, a fine place for riding and hunting. In the distance, the baying of hounds and the excited halloos of pursing riders spoke of a fox run to ground. The blue skies were dotted with the small, wheeling forms of hunting hawks. A dull, faint thumping spoke of beaters flailing the trees to startle game into the path of waiting hunters.

Despite the evidence of nearby sportsmen, no human parties marred the immediate landscape. There was a scent of autumn in the air: the tang of drying oak leaves, the elusive perfume of late-blooming flowers, the sweet shy;ness of apples and cider wafting from the carts that trundled toward the city markets on the hard-packed dirt road. Elaith Craulnober tried to concentrate on these pleasant things and forget his distaste for the woman who rode at his side.

This should have been an easy task on so fine a day. He had his best, silver horse beneath him and a peregrine falcon riding-unhooded and untethered-on a perch on his saddle's pommel.

The small "lady's hawk" that Myrna Cassalanter car shy;ried was confined according to human custom and rode on the leather bracer on her wrist. The elf refrained from comment. If he could endure this dreadful woman's com shy;pany, if he could smile pleasantly as she gleefully slew the reputations of her peers, then surely he could over shy;look her treatment of her hunting birds. What was such a thing, anyway, to an elf whose inner darkness both sur shy;passed and controlled that of the Mhaorkiira?

Finally the woman lifted the little hawk's hood and tossed the bird into the air. The tiny raptor winged off gratefully in search of game and an hour's freedom.

"You are wise to pursue this matter," Myrna said, turning back to the matter that had brought them to this discussion. "Rumors abound concerning the poor treatment suffered by the Gundwynd family's elven employees. It is whispered that Lord Gundwynd knew of the attack on the air caravan and used the elves as cannon fodder."

She smiled unpleasantly. "Surely you can make good use of this situation. There will be a number of elves leaving Gundwynd's service and seeking other employ. You should be able to engage their services for far less than the going rate."

Elaith did not comment on this advice. "Important information," he allowed. It was, too. He wouldn't have started the rumor, if it were not.

"The Ilzimmer clan is also under scrutiny," Myrna said with relish. "You might find a way to make use of that, as well. There is a particularly juicy tale making the rounds about Simon Ilzimmer, a minor mage who likes to visit courtesans in shapeshifted form. Only a handful of the city's hired escorts will have anything more to do with him."

"That is hardly the sort of thing likely to bring profit," Elaith said dryly, "and spreading such stories could make you rather unpopular."

"To the contrary! The appetite for such tales is immense."

The elf had to admit, privately, that Myrna's assess shy;ment of human nature was distressingly on the mark. "Perhaps I can repay my day's debt with a similar story," Elaith offered. When Myrna nodded eagerly, he added, "Rumor has it that Lord Gundwynd is furious with his youngest daughter, Belinda, who has been dallying with one of the family's elven grooms."

The woman clapped her hands with delight. "Oh, that is priceless! Belinda Gundwynd, of all people! To look at the prissy little wench, you'd think that a neck shy;lace of ice wouldn't melt on her bosom. A stable hand is scandal enough, but an elf! You don't know how the peerage loathes that notion."

"Oh, I have some idea," he commented, thinking of five tren assassins and the noble family who had hired them to kill him. That debt would soon be paid, the attempt on his life avenged. His business in Skullport and in Waterdeep would continue unchallenged, for those who had reason to stop him would be extremely busy elsewhere. Once the dust of battle settled, it was likely that those people would be in no position to chal shy;lenge him, at least, not for a very, very long time.

An extreme measure, perhaps, but in his mind it was payment long in coming.

* * * * *

The costume ball lasted until dawn. Galinda Raventree's guests toasted the new day, then wandered off intending to sleep it away. Danilo and Arilyn took their leave as well. After shedding their costumes for less fan shy;ciful garb, they went to The Curious Past to check on Bronwyn.

The young merchant was less than happy with the results of her trip. "I got one of the crystal spheres you were looking for," she said. "The others were gone before I reached Mizzen's shop. But I did find a most interest shy;ing gem."

She told them about the ruby-and her suspicion that it might hold some sort of magic.

Arilyn, who had been listening to the tale with scant attention, sat bolt upright. "This stone: Was it about the size of a dried bean, perfectly round, with small facets whirling up to a flat surface?"

Bronwyn nodded. "Yes. You know it?"

The half-elf rose and began to pace. "There is hardly an elf who does not! You have heard of kiira gems?"

"I believe they are some sort of memory stones," Bronwyn said slowly. "Artifacts from ancient times, they are family gems passed down through the generations. Legend claims they contain the combined wisdom of their forebears."

"Not legend," Arilyn said tersely. "Fact. Long ago, one of the kiira's owners turned to evil, and his family gem was somehow twisted to reflect its bearer. The ruby became a thief of memories-other people's memories. The Mhaorkiira, as it is commonly known, was lost cen shy;turies ago. More than one adventuring party has spent years searching for it. Trouble follows it. Most who hold it are twisted by its power."

"And this was taken by bandits," Danilo said, his voice rounded with outrage. "Most likely the bounders will sell it as a common gem, not understanding what they have!"

"That has already happened," Bronwyn told him. "I've traced the ruby to a fence here in Waterdeep. After a little persuasion, he described the woman who sold it to him."

Bronwyn gave a concise description: a young woman, pretty and curvaceous and strawberry blonde, neat but not well dressed. Well spoken, but bearing a strong accent of the docks. "Does that sound at all familiar?"

Arilyn and Dan exchanged a troubled glance. "It sounds disturbingly like a young woman of recent acquaintance," he admitted. "I will look into the matter at once. About the gem, though-I'm assuming that it was no longer in the fence's possession, else you would have procured it. What did the fence tell you of the buyer?"

"Nothing could induce him to part with that infor shy;mation, but I'm guessing Elaith Craulnober had a hand in the purchase. He mentioned the stone during the trip, and he does have a gift for intimidating people," Bronwyn concluded.

A long, troubled silence followed her words. After a few moments, she asked, "Is there anything more I can do?"

Arilyn shook her head and rose. "Stay clear of this. It's a marvel that Elaith let you live. Don't push him, especially not now."

She left the shop with a quick, purposeful stride, set shy;ting a course for Blackstaff Tower.

"Where are we going?" Danilo said in the wary tones of one who already knew the answer and was not at all pleased with it.

"You mentioned that Khelben has elven blood. He knows more of magical items than anyone else I know, so he should know a thing or two about the kiira stones. We're going to talk to him."

"On purpose?" muttered Dan.

However, he offered no further complaint and quickly cast the small spell that took them through the solid black stone of the curtain wall and another that led them into the tower of the archmage.

Khelben was at home, busy with a trio of appren shy;tices. He left the students in Laeral's care and showed his visitors into his private study, where he listened to their story with grave attention.

"My concern is this," concluded Arilyn. "Is it possible that the Mhaorkiira and the dream spheres might be linked?"

"Entirely possible," the archmage agreed. He was silent for a long moment. "For that reason, you must leave this business strictly alone."

"That is hard to do. If Elaith does have the kiira, he should be warned of the dangers involved," Danilo protested.

"He knows," Khelben said flatly. "The Mhaorkiira is legendary. Its involvement makes the cost of simply using a dream sphere incredibly high.

"There is more," the archmage added. "You must understand that this particular kiira has the power to twist the user to evil. I daresay your friend has already taken the first few turns along this path of his own accord."

"I agree," Arilyn said. "Mhaorkiira is incredibly dan shy;gerous in Elaith's hands. It could distort and destroy what little elven honor remains to him." She turned to Danilo, her face grave. "The pledge of Elf-friend is a pale thing compared to the power of this artifact. Whatever Elaith's game is, he would not thank you for meddling. I'll give you the same advice I gave Bronwyn: Stay clear of him. He must be dealt with, but not by those who are tempted to trust him."

Danilo hesitated, then yielded before the weight of evidence. "I will do as you say," he said with deep regret.

* * * * *

Danilo went from Blackstaff Tower to the small tavern where he often met with the Harpers once under his command. Hector was there at the appointed time, wearing a look of satisfaction on his narrow, much-freckled face.

"All went well, I take it," Danilo said as he slid into the wooden booth across from his comrade.

The small man nodded. "I've yet to see my sister, but that is of little concern. Cynthia said she'd wait out the night and the morning if needs be to convince any watching eyes that the woman was still in her room."

"Was our charge delivered safely to the orchard house?"

"Been and gone," Hector confirmed. "She didn't much take to the country, though. Set up a pretty steady flow of complaints, I hear. Our man set her up with horse and harness, and she rode off on her own." He shrugged. "They were glad to be rid of her, truth to tell. I saw no reason to argue with this arrangement. Figured she was safe enough, once she was well out of the city."

This did not sound at all like the warm and merry lass Danilo had met. A feeling of deep unease assailed him. "This woman. Describe her."

Hector let out a short, humorless laugh. "Promise first that you won't repeat the language I'm about to use to my wife, my mother, or my priest."

Danilo's concern deepened. "If her character is that distressing, focus on her person."

"An easy thing to do," the man allowed, "and the same rules of discretion apply. Gods help me, the shape of her! The only thing I ever saw that stood so high and proud with less to bolster it was that Moonbridge over in Silverymoon. She has a handsome face, though it takes a while for a man to drag his eyes up to that height. Eyes the color of winter stout in a clear mug. Hair like a dark cloud."

Danilo stood up so abruptly that the wooden bench toppled over. "Damn it, Hector, you took the wrong woman!"

A look of utter horror crossed the young Harper's face, a distress so profound that Danilo longed to explain the situation, to assure Hector this mistake was not his fault. That would have to wait.

He raced from the tavern and rode to the Dock Ward like one pursued by demons. He leaped from his horse and left the steed untethered in front of The Pickled Fisherman, then ran through the tavern and up the back stairs.

A half-ogre tavern guard shouted at him to stop and followed him up the stairs. The guard's progress was halted by the tip of Arilyn's sword. Holding the glowing weapon at arm's length, she stood at the head of the stairs and blocked the half-ogre's passage. Her face was set and grim, her lips in a pale, straight line.

"The moonblade drew me here," she said to Danilo, "but the warning came too late. Prepare yourself."

Her words were not entirely unexpected. What he had not expected was a sense of grief that was stagger shy;ing, nearly overwhelming. Danilo left Arilyn to deal with the half-ogre guard and slipped into the silent room. He stood for a long moment regarding the scene before him.

Cynthia lay sprawled out on the floor, her thin form clad in a barmaid's worn and patched clothes. Her throat had been slashed to the bone. Blood pooled on the floor beneath and flowed to converge with another river, from another source.

Lilly lay on her side. Her eyes were open, calmly star shy;ing ahead into the future that was no longer hers to claim.

He dropped to one knee and gently closed the young woman's eyes. Regret tore through him as he considered the waste of this blithe spirit, the joy he could have added to her life, and she to his.

His eyes were bright and blurred as he took a gold ring from his small finger, upon which was engraved the horse and raven of the Thann crest. This he placed on Lilly's hand, and then he raised the small, cold fingers to his lips.