The Dream Spheres

Fifteen

The unlikely trio-the human bard, the half-elven fighter, and the ghostly shadow-wandered through the city for the better part of the morning. Finally Danilo called a halt on a rooftop garden, a place far above watchful eyes and visible to none but the griffon riders who circled lazily against the clouds. He hoped the leg shy;endary vision of the eagle-headed beasts was not so keen that it could discern the shadowy elf woman who stood beside Arilyn, resting on an equally shadowy sword.

"I have to find whoever killed Lilly," Danilo blurted out.

Arilyn gave him a long measuring look. She turned away, propping her elbows against the garden wall. "Have I tried to dissuade you?"

"No. No, of course not, but you must let me continue alone."

The half-elf straightened up and affixed him with a challenging gaze. "Forget it."

He shook his head and took the small, glowing sphere from its hiding place in his boot. "Don't you see? Something is disrupting magic. It has to be these dream spheres."

His eyes shifted to the far edge of the roof. Thassi shy;talia was all but gone now. Only a faint outline remained, invisible when he looked at it directly. "I've been carry shy;ing this sphere with me since the day Lilly died. As a result, the magic of your sword has been seriously dis shy;rupted."

"So are your spells. That's what happened the night of the Thann party. Oth brought some of his dream spheres to pitch them to a group of wizards and mer shy;chant lords."

"I took one from Isabeau," he added. "Yes, I under shy;stand that now."

She took a step closer. "I am more than my sword," she said firmly. "You are more than your magic."

He regarded her with a faint smile. "You've always said that there was too much magic in Waterdeep. It seems we may have the opportunity to do without it."

"Let's get to it. We'll assume that Lilly was mixed up with the bandits who ambushed the air caravan, and start there."

They worked their way across the city's rooftops toward the Gundwynd manor. As they approached, Danilo caught sight of several detachments of the Watch milling about, conspicuous in their green and black leather uniforms.

They climbed down to the street and walked up to the manor.

"No one in, no one out," announced the grim-faced woman who stood at the side gate.

"What happened here?"

The Watchwoman gave Danilo a quelling look. "Move along, sir. The Gundwynd family is not receiving visi shy;tors at present."

Danilo turned toward Arilyn, but she had disap shy;peared. He nodded politely to the Watchwoman and went on his way, circling the walled villa as he observed the placement of trees on that street. He stopped two blocks down, then sat under a stately oak.

Several moments passed before he heard a faint rustling in the branches. He glanced up as Arilyn climbed to the lowest branch and dropped lightly to the ground beside him.

"Well?" he inquired.

"One of the servants found Belinda Gundwynd, the youngest daughter, dead in the stables. She was with an elven groom, the only person of elven blood who re shy;mained in the family's employ. Seems he had a personal reason for staying around. Rumors have been circulat shy;ing about Belinda and her lover. The servants overheard the family fighting over it. They were forcing her to give him up. The family is claiming that her death was a lover's pact."

"You don't believe this."

She shot him an incredulous look. "The servants who found them said that the bodies were in the hay, not dangling from the rafters."

"Still, is that reason to conclude that the Gundwynd family is wrong?"

"It's reassuring to know that you haven't strangled anyone lately," Arilyn said dryly. "The task demands considerable strength and will. Hard to do, when you're being distracted, and I'd say that being strangled your shy;self is a bit of a distraction. They could hardly manage to kill each other and die at the same time."

"They would need a bard's timing," Danilo agreed. "So the Watch is not buying the Gundwynds' story, I take it."

"They are not hearing anything but the Gundwynds' story. The servants who told me the tale were encour shy;aged not to talk. Let's move on-there's a Watchman over there who's starting to take note of us."

As they walked, Danilo struggled to sort through this. Like Arilyn, he doubted that Belinda Gundwynd and her lover had contrived their own deaths.

Then who? The Gundwynd family, motivated by the nobility's bias against alliances with elves? If that were so, then Danilo had lived his entire life among creatures more vicious than tren.

"They eat their own," he murmured. "It's a matter of honor."

Arilyn sent him a sharp, concerned look. "Do you really think that's what happened?"

"The possibility is hard to ignore. If I can suspect my own family of attempting to rid itself of elven alliances, why not the Gundwynds?"

"That doesn't account for Oth," Arilyn pointed out.

"No. No, it doesn't, and this will only deepen the scandal regarding Gundwynd and the elven folk. This could mean the end of the Gundwynd fortunes." Danilo stopped short as his mind replayed the angry confronta shy;tion between Lord Gundwynd and Lady Cassandra.

"It could mean the end of the Gundwynd fortune," he repeated. "The death of Belinda and her elven love gives substance to every rumor spoken against the family. Who would have reason to do such a thing?"

"One name comes to mind," Arilyn said. "Someone who saw elves die in the ambush and who might want Gundwynd to suffer for it."

Danilo shook his head. "Not Elaith," he insisted. "It simply does not make sense."

"It might not need to," she pointed out. "Remember, he may have the Mhaorkiira. In the past, those who fell under the dark gem's power acted in twisted ways that made sense to no one but themselves."

"It's possible," he allowed. "Certainly some people will believe it to be true, but Lord Gundwynd will not. He will look elsewhere for blame."

"Oh?" she said cautiously.

"Thann, Ilzimmer, Gundwynd, Amcathra," Danilo said, ticking off names on his fingers. "Four families sponsored the ill-fated caravan. All suspect each other of betrayal and ambush. Perhaps the tren are not the only creatures who take vendetta against attacks on their clan."

Arilyn nodded slowly, following his reasoning. "If so, none of these recent wounds are self-inflicted."

"If so," he added, "then the time of the Guild Wars could soon be upon us once again."

* * * * *

Arilyn considered Danilo's words for a long time as they left the Gundwynd villa behind. "If you are right, I suspect that this will be a very different type of war," she said at last. "No armies, no open bloodshed in the streets. As Cassandra pointed out, the noble families are very mindful of those times and are not eager to see them return. Any clan that came out in open aggression would be swiftly quelled."

Danilo considered this, then nodded his agreement. He had sat through enough meetings of Waterdeep's secret Lords to see the truth in it. The Lords had been chosen from every corner of the city, every strata of society. As a result, very little happened in the city that did not reach the ears of the hidden rulers. Their deci shy;sions were enforced by the Watch as well as a small standing army of guardsmen and some of the most powerful wizards in the Northlands. The days when wholesale war could rage within the city walls were over.

"So what, then?"

The half-elf sent him a measuring look. "You play chess, I suppose."

"When I cannot avoid doing so without bloodshed, yes," he said in a dry tone. "Is that what you think this is? A chess game?"

"It is possible. Waterdeep is a large city, with thou shy;sands of games played out on every street. Who notices the loss of a single pawn on a single board? Even Oth Eltorchul's death could be explained in that light. He had ties to the caravan. He arranged to have his dream spheres quietly shipped into the city."

"A plan that Gundwynd carried out, against Lady Cassandra's strong objections and despite an agree shy;ment the families had made," Danilo concluded. He sighed and cast a sidelong glance at Arilyn. "In that case, what was Belinda's death? A warning?"

"The Gundwynd clan will probably think so."

"I cannot accept your argument," he said quietly. "You imply that the merchant families maintain order with a brutal hand. Why would this be necessary? There are laws enough in Waterdeep, and many and powerful are those who ensure these laws are kept."

Arilyn was silent for several moments. "You've just answered your own question."

He lifted one brow in a supercilious arch. "I did? Per shy;haps I should start listening more closely to myself."

"Let me put it this way: You've heard the old saying about honor among thieves. I wouldn't go that far, but there is definitely a code. The same could be said of assassins. If someone starts getting too greedy or too careless, the others pull him back or do away with him. They can't afford to have too much attention focused on their activities, you see."

"I do indeed, but how does that signify? We are talk shy;ing about some of the most respected noble houses in Waterdeep!"

"We are talking about merchants," she said bluntly. "None of them wanted to get behind Oth's dream spheres because they knew the sort of attention these would bring. The wizards would have opposed them even before they found out about the disruption of magic, and they would have ferreted out everything there was to know about the trade. Who knows what might have been uncovered in the process?"

Danilo did not answer at once. He sidestepped a pair of street urchins who thundered past in a race as old as Waterdeep itself. The boys rolled a pair of old barrel hoops down the street, sticks in their hands and grins on their dirty faces. Their carefree innocence drew Dan's eye, and for a moment he watched them and wistfully recalled the comfort of long-held illusions.

"Your words are hard to accept," he murmured.

"I could be wrong," Arilyn said. She hesitated, then added, "It would explain why your mother was so con shy;cerned when Lilly was linked back to the Thann family after her death."

It occurred to Danilo that perhaps Cassandra had fallen short of the full truth. "Lilly was linked to the Thann family before her death. That is why she died," he said with sudden bitter conviction. "It was a strike against the family. The killer was removing a pawn."

"Yes, but Lilly evidently saw the danger coming. Why else would she go to your father, when she had never made any claim on him before? Until that time, none of you knew her as family."

"Someone else did. Someone she knew well, confided in."

They considered this in silence. "I have been thinking about the manner of Lilly's death," Arilyn said after a while. "By all appearances, she was slain by a tren assassin, but the killer did not.. follow the usual tren custom."

His lips thinned to a grim line at the inference. "Yes? So?"

"What if the killer wasn't a tren? What if he only appeared to be, and took this guise either to displace suspicion, or from twisted sport?"

Danilo looked sharply at her, understanding at once her reasoning. "Twisted sport," he repeated slowly. "By any chance, was Simon Ilzimmer at Oth's presentation the night of the Gemstone Ball?"

"Possibly. His cousin Boraldan was there. I heard several voices I couldn't name. One was very deep, with a bit of a rumble to it that almost hinted at dwarven speech."

"That does sound like Simon. Would you recognize that voice if you heard it again?"

"I think so," she said shortly.

Dan smiled faintly. "Judging from your expression, you would rather take another stroll through the city's sewers."

She did not deny his words. Actually, they expressed her feelings rather well. Among her contacts in the city were a number of women who worked in the taverns and bathhouses. After some of the stories she'd heard about the Ilzimmer lord, she could hardly imagine her shy;self sipping wine and making polite conversation.

Danilo seemed less bothered by the prospect. They went directly to the small, brooding manor that was home to Simon Ilzimmer. The bells in the nearby Temple of Ilmater tolled solemnly as Danilo left his card with the servant. Arilyn idly counted the rolling peals, won shy;dering as she did why anyone would devote his life to so dreary a creed as that of the God of Suffering. By the time the call to worship faded into silence, the servant returned with word that Lord Simon would receive them.

At first glance, Simon Ilzimmer did not fit his dark reputation. He was a tall, broad man who appeared to be no stranger to the disciplines of sword and horse. His manners were faultless, and he received his guests with every courtesy. He and Danilo sipped warmed zzar and chatted about mutual acquaintances and recent events with apparent candor and good humor.

Despite his genial manner, he was indeed one of the merchant nobility who had attended the meeting in the Thann villa. Arilyn easily recognized the deep, resonant voice. Now that she faced Simon Ilzimmer, she found the man exceedingly difficult to read. Indeed, she doubted that he was entirely sane. There was an emptiness to his eyes, an utter lack of connection between his words and any discernible emotion. On the other hand, she sensed the seething energy of the man. His gaze seemed to skitter away without actually moving, and he had a sort of brooding intensity about him that reminded her of the portentous quiet before a sea squall. It was as if he were two men, one altogether too controlled, little more than a shell, the other a violent storm, likely to strike without warning.

His study supported this impression. Though the fur shy;niture was sparse and practical, the walls were lined with disturbing pictures-dark, twisted visions from a madman's mind. Danilo walked over to consider a ren shy;dering of two red dragons entangled in fierce mating amid the burning ruins of a village.

"Fascinating," he murmured. "Was this painted from life?"

Arilyn sent him a warning look. Chances were that the Ilzimmer noble was not overburdened with a sense of humor. "We are trying to retrace the goods stolen from the air caravan," she said frankly, for she was tired of the inconsequential talk and growing increasingly uncomfortable in Simon's presence. "Anything you could tell us might be helpful."

The storm behind the man's dark eyes kindled and flashed. "You accuse me in my own home?"

"No one is making accusations," Danilo said mildly. "We are merely trying to gather together the pieces of this puzzle. Since your family also suffered losses, is it not in our best interests to work together?"

Simon eyed him with deranged cunning. "Lady Cas shy;sandra is shrewd. Sending you here nosing about was a brilliant ploy. Everyone knows that you have little to do with the family's business, and all know you are her favorite son. A brilliant way for her to deny involve shy;ment."

"Why should she need to do such a thing? Thann had no part in the theft," Danilo said with as much convic shy;tion as he could muster. "For that matter, the Lady Cas shy;sandra does not know of my presence here."

The mage snorted. He was about to say more, but his eyes widened with mingled surprise and horror. He leaped to his feet, pointing with a shaking finger. "Threaten me, will you? Here in my own place, no less! I won't have it! All of you, leave at once! Get out, out!"

Simon's voice rose on the last words into near hyste shy;ria. "We should do as he says," Danilo said in a low voice. "He is a mage, and I'm in no position to challenge him."

Arilyn needed no urging. She turned to leave the chamber and immediately fell back onto her heels.

She stood nearly face to face with the ghostly image of an elven wizard. He was a tall elf whose silver hair had been woven into scores of tiny braids. He held a shadowy moonblade, point down, and he was leaning on the hilt as a wizard might rest upon his staff. His translucent blue eyes were watchful, and he was gazing at Simon with a quiet intensity that gave substance to the mage's fear.

They quickly left the estate, the shadowy mage walk shy;ing soundlessly behind them. As soon as they were beyond the gate, Arilyn commanded the elfshadow man shy;ifestation to return to the sword. To their relief, the ghostly image dissolved into silvery motes. These swirled out into a neat line and disappeared into the moonblade one by one, like a row of ducklings slipping into a pond.

"This is getting out of hand," Arilyn muttered as they hurried back toward Danilo's home.

"At least the elfshadow is gone. You can still control the sword," he said in the tone of one who was search shy;ing for good news in unlikely places.

"Not really," she said, then shot a quick glance over her shoulder. "I still feel as if we're being followed. The moonblade's magic is getting more and more unstable. How can I go about my business, knowing that one of my ancestors might come calling at any moment?"

"Look on the bright side," Danilo suggested.

"That is?"

"Well, at least we're not being followed by tren."

"Don't be so sure about that," she said grimly as she glanced at the cobblestones at her feet. "Remember, you're a sixth son. I'm your half-elven companion. Can you think of a more expendable target for reprisal?"

For a moment he looked as if he would protest, then his face turned thoughtful. "Belinda was the youngest Gundwynd child."

She turned to him, her face deadly serious. "That had occurred to me, too."

* * * * *

"The woman is a positive marvel," Elaith murmured as he read the note Myrna Cassalanter had sent by trusted messenger and fast horse.

Even the most unlikely of her rumors had borne fruit. Just that day, not more than a few hours before, Simon Ilzimmer had been arrested by the Watch for the murder of a courtesan-in one of Elaith's establish shy;ments, no less. Simon was noble, and the men and women who would give testimony against him were common servants, but the end result would be the same. A minor Ilzimmer lord would hang from the city walls.

It bothered Elaith not at all that Simon Ilzimmer was innocent of this particular crime. His death would be true justice, even if the facts did not tally in every par shy;ticular. Best of all, no one would trace the man's death back to Elaith's door. His servants would give true and earnest testimony to what they had seen-or believed that they had seen. Magical examination would bear that out. Simon's reputation would supply the extra nudge needed to push him over the Hangman's Leap.

The pot was simmering nicely, Elaith concluded as he turned back to the note. Reprisals would be soon in coming, and the noblemen would be busily employed for some time to come.

His brow furrowed as he read on. With great relish, Myrna recounted the death of a tavern wench, a by-blow of Rhammas Thann. Rumor had it that the girl's body had been claimed by Danilo Thann, who insisted that she be laid to rest in the family tomb.

Elaith reached for the bellpull. His elven steward came promptly to the call. "Send a message to Lord Thann," the elf said. "Tell him I require an immediate audience at. ." The elf thought quickly, then added. "The steps of the Pantheon Temple."

The servant bowed and disappeared. Elaith hurried to the temple complex, hoping that the unspoken mes shy;sage would not be misunderstood. Danilo had reason to distrust him, especially if he had pieced together the story of the Mhaorkiira. Bronwyn had no doubt reported back about the magic-rich ruby she had found in Silverymoon and about Elaith's interest in it. It was likely that Arilyn would recognize the kiira from its description and know those who held it could be twisted to evil. Reason indeed for concern-at least, to those whose knowledge of the kiira was limited to legend.

He found a quiet place in the courtyard just below the sweeping marble stair and fell into apparent con shy;templation of a statue of some goddess or other. This reflective pose did not at all mirror his state of mind, but it was common among the elves who came to the temple for a few moments' respite from the frenetic pace of the human city.

Even the dull sensitivities of the humanfolk per shy;ceived some of the tranquil calm of this elven haven. Those who strolled by softened their step and quieted their chatter. Elaith watched as Danilo reined in his horse at a respectful distance, then swung down and paced quietly over to the waiting elf.

"A matter of some urgency, your messenger said," Danilo prompted.

The human did not look well, Elaith noted. It was dif shy;ficult to call him pale, in comparison to a moon elf's complexion, but the signs of several sleepless nights were etched on his face, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes. That, and nothing more. There was no warmth, no humor, none of the growing friendship that had come to mean more to the elf than he cared to admit.

Suddenly the task was harder than Elaith had antic shy;ipated. The elf turned aside and clasped his hands behind his back. "I heard of the loss to your family. I am sorry."

Danilo's eyes clouded with grief, as well as a flicker of anger. "No loss to my family," he said shortly, "but on Lilly's behalf and my own, I thank you for your sympathy."

"Sympathy is a cheap gift. In your position, I would prefer vengeance," the elf said. "You have the look of a hound that's picked up the fox's scent."

"A skunk, more like it. Yes, I will run this vermin to ground."

The elf expected this response, but he did not like the grim set of the man's face. He recognized that look of absolute, relentless stubbornness. Once, those traits had saved Elaith's life. He feared that now they could mean the end of Danilo's.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," he said, school shy;ing himself to feel no remorse over the sudden leap of hope and gratitude in the man's eyes. Help he would give, but to the fox and not the hound. Better to send Danilo off following another scent than to allow him to come too close to the heart of the matter. If the hound lived to hunt another day, he reasoned, the Mhaorkiira's master would find a suitable use for him.

"You know that I do considerable business in the Dock Ward. I have some knowledge of the young woman," he said. "She had a sporting nature, and from time to time she found her way into my gambling dens. Since I make a point of knowing my customers, I learned her name, if not her heritage. But she has more in common with you than appearance might indicate."

"The point, please, and swiftly," Danilo implored.

"It will not be easy to hear," the elf cautioned. "More than once, I have seen her in the company of one of your peers. A friend of yours, I believe."

The flash of stunned recognition, the sudden bleak flood of loss and then the cleansing surge of anger, told Elaith that a name was not necessary. Nevertheless, he gave it. "Regnet Amcathra has been known to make an occasional visit to The Pickled Fisherman. He has been seen in Lilly's company, there and elsewhere."

Elaith let the man absorb this, then took a small package from the folds of his sleeve and unwrapped a blackened dagger. "One of my warehouses caught fire. The structure stood firm, but everything inside was burned, as was no doubt the intention. This was found between the charred ribs of a man in the employ of the Ilzimmer family. Do you recognize the workmanship?"

Danilo took the dagger and turned it over in his hands. He gave it back after a quick perusal. "My first sword was an Amcathra blade, as is nearly every weapon I own," he said evenly. "They are incomparable."

"Nearly as good as elven weapons," Elaith agreed. He saw the sudden leap of surprise and speculation in Danilo's eyes and wondered what it meant. The resolve returned, as suddenly as it had fled, now tempered by a new layer of sadness. "I am sorry to bear this news," the elf said. "What it means, I cannot say."

"Rest assured that I will find out."

The elf's resigned sigh and look of concern were not entirely feigned. "I thought as much. Have a care. The Amcathra clan is subtle and canny. Who would think them capable of such deeds?"

Those words were true enough to cloak the elf's deception-and hide another truth layered beneath it. Elaith knew full well that the Amcathra clan deserved its sterling reputation. There was no better quarry to set this particular hound upon, for Danilo would follow this path with dogged determination-and that would keep him and Arilyn out of Elaith's way. Of course, the cost to Danilo would be the loss of a lifelong friendship, but in Elaith's opinion Regnet Amcathra was a highly expendable pawn.

"Regnet Amcathra. Who would have thought?" Danilo echoed with a faint, pained smile. He extended his hand to the elf. "Hard words to speak, but I thank you for them."

Elaith took the offered handclasp and met the human's steady gaze. "What are friends for?" he said with appar shy;ent warmth and deliberate irony.

* * * * *

Regnet Amcathra lived in the Sea Ward, a sedate sector of the city that was nonetheless close to the roil shy;ing life of the docks. It seemed to Danilo that this con shy;trast suited his old friend. The Amcathra family was obscenely wealthy, and Regnet, like Dan, was a younger son and not involved directly in family affairs. Although Regnet was as fond of luxury and as complacently serene in his position as any man of his class, he had a fondness for adventure. A few years back, he had founded the Deep Delvers, a group of bored young nobles who went into the tunnels beneath Waterdeep in search of adventure.

Dan had always admired this endeavor. At the mo shy;ment, however, Regnet's deep-delving ways held too much coincidence for Danilo's peace of mind. Adventur shy;ing was often a convenient mask for roguery, and any connection with Undermountain in general and Skullport in particular was highly suspect. He sincerely hoped Regnet had not been involved with Lilly, that he'd had no part in the business that had led to her death.

He left his horse with the groom and walked through the iron gate, a daunting affair fashioned from three pairs of rearing pegasi. His friend's home was small, by the standards of the Sea Ward, and had once been a carriage house for a wealthy mage who owned a small fleet of pegasi. The mansion itself had burned down years ago-another casualty of magic created without thought of possible consequence-and it had never been rebuilt.

The door opened before Danilo could knock. He smiled down at the halfling steward-a hiring trend that had become all the rage since word of Monroe's efficiency had made the rounds of Danilo's social circle. This halfling wore a blue and red uniform that proclaimed his service to the Amcathra house, and his hair was as yellow as a dandelion. At the moment the comparison was particularly apt, for the steward's hair stood up as if he had raked his hands through it repeatedly and with great agitation.

Danilo regarded the little fellow. "Is something amiss, Munson?"

"You might say that, sir."

Before the halfling could elucidate, a jaunty step behind him spoke of his master's approach.

"Dan! Welcome. How long has it been since you've stopped by? Longer than a dwarf's beard, I'll warrant."

Though Regnet's words were a fair reflection of fact, there was no reproach in the man's face or voice. Danilo took the offered handclasp and returned his friend's smile with genuine warmth-and deep sadness. Regnet was an affable soul, handsome in a roguish sort of way, with curly brown hair and laughing hazel eyes. He had his faults, including a hot and ready temper, but Danilo could not believe he could be part of something as vile and needless as Lilly's death.

His need to know deepened and settled his resolve. "Have you time at present for conversation?" Danilo asked.

"I am at leisure this whole day and yours to com shy;mand. We must have a drink. Munson, is there any zzar in the house?"

"Of course, my lord, but-"

"Fine. Splendid. Bring some to the game room. Dan, you haven't yet seen my new trophy." Regnet clapped an arm around his visitor's shoulders and began to lead the way.

The halfling's eyes bulged, lending him a distinct likeness to a panic-stricken trout. "My lord, I must have a word with you."

"Later," Regnet said firmly.

Dan fell into step beside his friend, listening with only half an ear as Regnet chatted about his latest adventure-something about icy tunnels, and caverns so sparkling with crystal and ice that a single torch seemed to transform the place into a house of mirrors.

Danilo was more interested in whatever caused the halfling so much consternation. The steward followed them a few steps, his small round face a study in inde shy;cision. This Danilo could understand. Despite his good humor, Regnet had a demon of a temper-this Dan could attest to, as he had been on the receiving end of it twice or thrice. Like many men of his class, Regnet paid scant attention to his servants as long as they fol shy;lowed his orders without question or hesitation. It was a combination that might well give pause to the most stouthearted halfling. After a bit Munson gave up the effort, sighed, and veered off into a side passage, no doubt in search of the requested liqueur.

They reached a set of double doors. Regnet threw them open with a flourish. "What do you think?" he demanded proudly.

Danilo peered into the room. Fine, deep chairs were scattered about, and tables of polished wood held gaming boards and neat stacks of cards. Small bowls of semi shy;precious gems or brightly polished crystals stood nearby as an aid in placing wagers. The most notable feature of the room was the collection of trophies. A splendid stag gazed down from over the mantle, its enormous rack casting shadows against the flickering glow of firelight on the floor beneath. A wild boar grinned wickedly from its place over the dartboard. Dangerous tusks the size and sharpness of daggers lent the beast an air of dignity that was not in the least diminished by the pair of darts that bristled from its snout. A narwhal was mounted against an enormous wooden plaque. The great fish had long been Regnet's pride, for the narwhal's size and the wicked, serrated length of sword on its snout made it the most difficult and dangerous of game fish. The narwhal had been stuffed with its tail arched beneath it, the body curved and ready for a lunging attack. It looked like a master swordsman forever frozen in guard position.

The new addition to the game room was even more spectacular. A giant, bearlike creature loomed out of the shadows in the far corner of the room. The thing was taller than a man, with a strangely pointed head and fur the color of sooty snow. Its rubbery lips were pulled back in an eternal snarl, baring large yellow fangs. Clawed paws, long-fingered as a man's but padded on the palm like those of a cave bear, were raised in menace.

"A yeti," Regnet said proudly. "I took it in the ice caves this spring."

The taking of trophies was a common practice but not one that appealed to Dan. "An impressive collec shy;tion," he said without much enthusiasm.

Regnet grinned and nudged his friend with an elbow. "Not as impressive as my other collection of trophies won, stuffed, and mounted, eh?"

Considering the nature of Dan's visit, the bawdy jest was as painful as a bare-fisted blow. It was also an unfortunately apt segue. "I regret to be the bearer of bad news," he began.

The nobleman's smile faltered. He sank down on a nearby chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. Once Dan was similarly settled, Regnet nodded his encouragement.

"This regards a young woman known as Lilly. I know you have met her-she was at the Gemstone Ball, and you engaged her in conversation. Though you did not indicate to me at the time that you already knew the lady, it has been brought to my attention that you two were quite well acquainted."

Regnet's eyes widened in a moment of masculine panic. "Tymora take me! Not another bastard!"

This response was not what Danilo had anticipated. "You have others?"

The nobleman sniffed. "Surely you aren't claiming that you do not! Consider our misspent youth, and the long nights spent drinking and wenching. Only a spe shy;cial pet of Lady Luck, or a man as dry as a dwarf, could escape a mishap or two. But this is a most inopportune time. I had planned to announce my betrothal at winterfest."

Anger flared through Danilo, stealing his breath and almost blinding him with its intensity. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the stuffed yeti, which seemed to quiver in sympathetic indignation. He waited a moment until his vision cleared and he could trust himself to speak with control.

"Yet you toyed with this girl."

"As did others, no doubt," Regnet retorted. "For all we know, the brat could well be yours!"

Danilo surged to his feet and slapped both hands down on the table between them. He leaned in over the nobleman. "Lilly was not with child," he said in cold, measured tones, "and have a care how you speak of her. She was my sister."

Regnet jolted. "I did not know."

"Nor did I, until a few days ago. Nor will I know her." The reality of that brought an overwhelming tide of loss. He slumped back into his chair. "She's dead, Regnet."

"Gods above, Dan. I'm sorry."

The words were sincere enough, but they spoke of sympathy for a friend's loss. For himself, Regnet looked positively relieved.

Relieved. Not guilty. Danilo absorbed this, and de shy;cided that on the whole it was the best reaction he could have expected. Several moments of silence passed. For the sake of something to say, Danilo asked, "To what lady have you decided to pay court?"

"This may come as something of a surprise," Regnet cautioned, "but she is a fine woman, and she will see admirably to my business and social affairs."

Unlike a simple tavern wench, Danilo concluded grimly. He wondered if Lilly would have derived any sense of justice from the cool, practical description Regnet gave her rival.

"Business and social affairs, is it? Spoken like a true lover." Danilo's heart was not in the teasing, but at least he managed to keep the bitterness he felt on Lilly's behalf out of his tone.

Regnet grinned, not at all offended. "The lady has many charms, but those are the skills that come first to mind when her name is spoken. A redoubtable hostess."

"Is that so," Danilo said without much interest. "If Galinda Raventree were not so adamant in her refusal of suitors, I would think that you might be describing her."

"Indeed I am," Regnet said, not without pride.

At that moment, a feral shriek exploded from the far corner of the room. The yeti rocked back and forth, like a frozen creature trying to tear itself from a tomb of ice, and then it lunged forward.

Both men leaped to their feet. Danilo reached for his spell bag, and Regnet drew his dagger.

The yeti crashed to the floor, taking a table with it and sending ivory chess pieces flying like shards of ice. It rolled over onto one dead side and lay where it fell, leaving the real danger revealed behind it.

Myrna Cassalanter stood there, her hands fisted at her sides and her face as twisted and furious as a harpy's. She was dressed for seduction: Her henna-colored hair was arranged in an artful tangle to suggest-or invite-a lover's touch, and her gown was scarlet, clinging, and cut exceedingly low. Much of her snowy bosom was exposed and was, at the moment, quivering with indig shy;nation.

"You thrice-bedamned troll! Son of a poxed whore!" she shrieked. Her hands hooked into rending claws, and she came on like a rampant dragon.

Regnet tossed aside his dagger and leaped over the chair he had just quit, turning it so to put some barrier between himself and the flame-haired virago bearing down on him.

She leaped onto the chair in her frenzy to get at the man who had scorned her. Regnet dodged to one side, barely escaping her raking nails. The chair, no longer supported, crashed onto its back and sent Myrna tum shy;bling over it and onto the floor.

She rolled toward the hearth but was on her feet with an agility that a traveling juggler might envy, brandishing an iron poker in a determined, two-handed grip.

Regnet backed away, tripping over the upended chair. "Munson!" he roared.

The halfling steward appeared in the doorway, wringing his hands. "I tried to warn you, sir," he began.

His next words were lost in Myrna's shriek as she took a mighty swing. Regnet leaned away from the blow, but the tip of the poker traced a sooty path across the front of his shirt. On the back swing, Myrna fetched him a glancing blow to the head. Encouraged by this suc shy;cess, she came on, shrieking like a banshee and flailing the poker with all the verve, if none of the skill, of an elven bladesinger.

Danilo settled back on his heels, folded his arms, and considered Regnet's dilemma. If Myrna had been a man-or for that matter, a woman trained in the fight shy;ing arts-Regnet could have settled the matter in a swift contest. Propriety forbade him to mishandle a gentlewoman. Even using force to subdue her was skirt shy;ing the line. To all appearances, subduing Myrna would not be an easy matter. She bolstered this suspicion by smacking Regnet in the gut with enough force to double him over.

Danilo supposed he ought to come to his friend's aid. He firmly intended to do so. At the moment, however, he found the spectacle vastly entertaining. Moreover there was no denying that it held a certain justice. Danilo doubted that Tyr Himself could come up with a more fitting retribution for a casual and thoughtless lover than the wrath of one he had scorned. Who was he, the merest of mortals, to intervene in so apparently divine a pattern?

Just then Myrna landed another solid whack, this one a two-handed upswing that would do justice to a master polo player. It caught Regnet under the chin, and his head snapped painfully back. He dropped and rolled beyond reach just as another vicious, chopping blow clanged onto the floor.

The halfling steward rushed in and grabbed at Myrna's arm. She flung out an elbow and caught him in the face. He staggered back, clutching an eye already swollen and darkening.

"Do something," Regnet implored his friend.

Danilo relented and quickly formed the gestures for a cantrip-a small spell that would heat metal. The tip of Myrna's iron weapon began to glow with red heat, which slithered up the handle toward her white-knuckled fists. She took no notice, following Regnet's retreat as he rapidly crab-walked away from her, flail shy;ing away until the poker was entirely aglow. With a sudden yelp of pain, she released the weapon. It fell to the carpet, which began to smolder.

For several moments, chaos reigned. Munson rushed to douse the fire with the first available fluid-which, unfortunately, was the flagon of zzar he had fetched for his master. The potent liqueur set the carpet aflame. The halfling snatched a stuffed trout from its pedestal and beat out the flames.

Finally all was relatively calm-all but for Myrna, who looked ready for another round. "How could you have anything to do with that trollop!" she demanded of Regnet.

"Have a care how you speak," Danilo told her.

She sent him a withering look. "Not the barmaid. That does not signify. But Galinda Raventree! How could you offer me such insult?"

Myrna gathered up her skirts and stormed out. She whirled at the door to deliver a final shaft. "You will regret this. Both of you." Out she went, with the halfling sneaking behind her, suddenly less concerned about the visitor's spent wrath than that which was likely to ensue.

Regnet, though, was of no mind to scold his steward. He sighed in mingled relief and consternation as he rose to his feet. "I am sorry for that, Dan. What will come of this, I cannot say. Myrna can be vindictive."

That did not concern Danilo, and he said so. After all, what part could the gossipmonger have played in Lilly's death? She was a silly, shallow woman, venal in casual conversation but lacking the will and focus to do any real harm. He did not regret the conversation, for if it had shed no light on Lilly's fate, at least it had set his mind at ease concerning Regnet's involvement.

However, as Danilo left the gates, it occurred to him to wonder how Myrna knew Lilly was a barmaid. He had been careful not to refer to his sister in such terms. It seemed apparent that she had known about Regnet's involvement with Lilly-at least, she had not reacted to it with surprise and anger.

Danilo decided to cut though Regnet's property. It was a pleasant walk, shaded by large elms and lined with a hedge of lavender-leggy and outgrown this time of year, but still fragrant. It was a good place to think, and he had much to ponder.

Foremost in his mind was puzzlement over why Myrna did not show anger about her would-be lover's involvement with Lilly. Was it because a simple tavern wench just, as she'd put it, "did not signify"? Most of Waterdeep's nobles readily overlooked the small foibles and dalliances that were common among their class.

Or perhaps Myrna had responded with rage when the tale of Lilly and Regnet was newly told. If so, what form had her anger taken? In light of her display, Danilo had potent reason to believe that she was capable of ordering a rival's death-especially the removal of a person she considered to be without much consequence.

He was wondering still when the first blow came out of nowhere and sent him staggering into the fragrant hedge.