The Dream Spheres

Seventeen

By unspoken agreement, Danilo and Arilyn sought out the beauty and solitude of his elven garden. They did not speak until they stood at the edge of the serene pool, and for a long time they stared into the water as if it were a scrying bowl that could show them their next course.

Danilo was of no mind for conversation. He still reeled from this revelation, which explained much, if not all, of the mystery surrounding recent events.

"Myrna Cassalanter is a spiteful woman," Arilyn said at last.

"I will not argue with that, but I daresay there is as much truth in her words as spite," he said. "Don't you agree?"

"Not completely. I doubt Elaith is responsible for poi shy;soning Myrna."

Danilo looked at her in surprise. "Really."

"Elves seldom use poison. Elaith's methods, though twisted, are still elven."

"Twisted?" he prompted.

She told him her suspicions that Elaith killed the broker down in Skullport in order to acquire the miss shy;ing dream spheres. "The mark of an elven sword was unmistakable. One of the men had been dissolved into mist. Elaith is competent in magic, and he has a vast collection of magical weapons. It is the sort of thing he would do."

"But Myrna said she received payment in elven coin."

"What of it? That, more than anything, leads me to believe that Elaith is being set up. He isn't that stupid."

"No, he isn't," Danilo agreed, "but that makes him all the more dangerous. He will not take kindly to this treatment. It's possible that some of the recent events are his vengeance against the noble families."

They considered this in silence. A courtesan was dead, and Simon Ilzimmer had been blamed. The death count did not end there: Belinda Gundwynd and her elven love. Oth Eltorchul.

Lilly.

"And this is the elf I am pledged to defend," Danilo said softly. "Once, he asked me to prove his innocence. I have to find the truth of this, no matter where it leads. I owe him that much, for the honor he once did me."

Arilyn nodded and started for the gate. "We might as well get on with it.

Isabeau waited until Arilyn and Danilo were well out of sight, then sailed up to the door of Myrna Cas shy;salanter's mansion as if she were a regular visitor.

She found Myrna pale, but unusually calm. The reason for this, the woman explained, was her new diversion. She showed Isabeau a wooden box filled with small crystal spheres.

Isabeau knew all about them-knew more than this silly woman could begin to suspect-but she listened with quiet contempt as Myrna spoke glowingly of using purchased magic to live a fantasy.

She, Isabeau, was determined to carve out her own.

The dream spheres were not the way. She saw that now. If they had already found their way into the homes of Waterdeep's wealthy and powerful, she had little hope of retrieving enough of them to turn a profit.

There was another way. Risky, certainly, but Isabeau saw in it her only chance.

She selected the largest, brightest globe from the box and took note of the greedy, territorial expression that leaped into Myrna's eye.

"I would like to try one of these wonders," Isabeau said. "Will you choose one for me?"

Myrna all but leaped for the powerful, expensive globe in her visitor's hands. "That one is for my own use. Any of these others you may have."

"We could perhaps share," Isabeau suggested. "You to your dream, and I mine? A pleasant respite to break up the day."

Her hostess nodded avidly. Once her guest was settled with a lesser magical dream, she took the pow shy;erful dream sphere for herself.

Isabeau waited until the woman was deep into the magical trance. She rose quietly to her feet and tipped the box of dream spheres into her pocket. Then she carefully unclasped the necklace from the entranced woman's neck and added it to her loot.

The larger and brighter the sphere, the longer and more powerful the dream. Isabeau had learned that much, but she took no chances. Moving as silently and swiftly as a dervish's ghost, she picked the chamber clean of any valuables and fled while the woman was still deep in her dream.

Isabeau had had no idea that gossipmongering paid so well-with the coins and jewels she had taken from this single theft, she could easily buy and bribe her way into distant Tethyr.

Elated at her success, she all but ran from the man shy;sion and climbed into the waiting carriage. If the driver was surprised to hear that she wished to go directly to the South Gate, he did not state his opinion. An extra gold coin went a long way toward ensuring discretion. If she were careful, and lucky, she might yet make it safely to the southern lands.

Isabeau settled back against the seat and dared to begin dreaming a future far greater than any she might glimpse in one of Oth Eltorchul's magical toys.

Arilyn woke with a start, sitting upright beside her sleeping friend. After a moment her breathing returned to normal, but the dream that had awakened her did not fade.

She glanced at the moonblade, which lay sheathed beside the bed. It was dark and silent. In times past, she had awakened from such a dream to find the sword limned with green light, a sure confirmation that the dream was sent from forest elves in need of her help. This time, the dream was different. It was she who needed the help and her friends from distant Tethyr forest who came to her aid.

There was no trusting the dream, though. Evidence of that was plentiful. Five ghostly elves stood sentinel in the room, released from the sword by the relaxing of her will.

In fact, the moonblade's magic was growing ever more contradictory. Arilyn could almost count upon the elven sword to do the opposite of whatever function it had once performed. Warnings came not at all, or too late. Worse, its quick strike was growing unreliable-sometimes coming too fast, sometimes not at all. If this continued, she would not be able to use the sword in battle.

A discreet knock on the door roused the sleeping man beside her. Danilo sat up and ran both hands through his hair. "What is it, Monroe?"

"A message for Lady Arilyn," the halfling said, his voice muffled by the heavy door.

"Well, bring it in."

The halfling entered and handed Arilyn a message marked with the seal of the Guard. She quickly broke the seal and read with growing wonder. "There is a group of forest elves inquiring for me at the South Gate," she said and explained in a few words her belief that the malfunctioning sword had reversed the direc shy;tion of the dream summons. "They've come to help," she concluded.

"And?" Danilo prompted, seeing from her eyes that there was more.

Arilyn met his eyes with a steady gaze. "These are the elves from Tethyr's forest. You should know that Foxfire is among them."

Danilo absorbed this in silence. "You will want to meet with them at once," he said simply.

It was the answer Arilyn had hoped to hear-no questions, no reservations. This was part of her life, her duty, and he accepted it as such. He did not ask what path she would take when the task at hand was done. The time would come when Arilyn would have to answer that. She could not say how she would respond.

* * * * *

The night was nearly over, and Elaith had yet to decide whether his campaign to divert attention of the nobles from himself was success or failure. It was true that he had received important information through the combined magic of the Mhaorkiira and the dream spheres. However, word of the dream spheres was spreading fast-too fast. The powers of law and order were beginning to take notice.

Just that day, three of his dream sphere vendors had been arrested. The wizards of Waterdeep were furious at this profligate use of magic, and Elaith had received word that there were attempts to magically follow the spheres back to their source.

He wondered where those magical inquiries might lead. Given the distortion of magic that the dream spheres caused, it might be almost anywhere. He might not be the equal of Oth Eltorchul when it came to twisting magic, but he knew enough to ensure that no one could trace the sale of the spheres back to his door.

Certainly no one would come looking for him here. The Monster Pit was one of the best-kept secrets in the Dock Ward.

Through a two-way mirror, the elf looked out over his establishment with a mixture of distaste and satisfac shy;tion. Gladiatorial dens were illegal in Waterdeep, but this one was highly popular. It lay many, many feet under a smithy and a raucous tavern. By day, the clat shy;ter of hammers on metal, the hiss of the bellows and the gruff shouts and near-constant singing of the smiths served to drown out any hint of the noise of battle and the cheering of the spectators. By night, the tavern served the same purpose.

The Monster Pit was a large, round cavern that had been carved into the shale. The walls had been covered with wood to keep patrons from peeling layers off the rock and hurling them at the combatants.

As usual, it was an unruly crowd seasoned with strong spirits and a variety of entertainments not available in the market. Smoke from scores of pipes rose into a thick blue haze. Most of the patrons were shouting and shaking their fists at the fighters, but a few wandered off into back rooms for private wagers or games.

Tonight the betting was brisk, for few men knew how to take the measure of the rare monsters that faced off. They were an unusual pair and had cost the elf consid shy;erable effort and expense to acquire.

The larger fighter was a fomorian, a member of a species of freaks in which no two were quite alike. This creature was male, a huge brute with four muscled arms and a vast torso that dwindled down to short, bandy legs. Despite his stunted legs, the fighter stood well over six feet tall. His face was malformed, domi shy;nated by an enormous eye that drooped low on one cheek. The fomorian's nose was a bearlike snout, and his other eye was small, red, and cunning.

His opponent was a yuan-ti, a snakelike creature with the head and arms of a man. At the moment, the snake man had the upper hand. His coils were wrapped around the fomorian. The brute's eyes bulged, but he continued to fight. With two of his hands, he squeezed the snake's neck, and with the other pair he desperately tried to peel off the crushing coils.

The monsters' faces were eerily similar, for both had mouths as wide as frogs. Their fanged teeth were bared in fierce grimaces, and their forked tongues flicked out in desperate, flickering gasps. It was all very distaste shy;ful, Elaith noted, but highly profitable.

The sound of a Watch horn tore through the din and shattered his comfortable musings. Three patrols-twelve men-pounded down the wooden stairs. To Elaith's consternation, they went straight for the mages who ringed the cavern and whose magic kept the mon shy;sters contained within the ring.

"Fools," Elaith muttered.

In the chaos that followed, the yuan-ti immediately loosed its hold and slithered off, disappearing into a small hole that led to its den. The fomorian roared and charged with the fury of a caged beast who sees a chance at freedom. Three of the Watch converged on the fighter. He resisted, easily lifting one in each hand and hurling them aside. The third was swept away as wild melee filled the room.

The creature's mismatched eyes swept the room, searching the crowd for Elaith, the elf who had captured and imprisoned him. He charged forward and smashed the mirror with three fists. His malformed eyes gleamed with wild delight as they settled upon Elaith. He backed off several steps, and kicked into a charge.

The monster's progress was halted by a shining elven sword. To Elaith's astonishment, Arilyn stepped into the fomorian's path.

"If you have a weapon, arm yourself," she said to the creature.

"You cannot be serious," Elaith began incredulously.

"I will not kill an unarmed being," she said sternly. "Give him your sword."

Still Elaith hesitated, but the fomorian settled the matter by ripping a weapon-and the arm that held it-from a passing gambler. Arilyn lifted her sword in challenge. The fomorian charged, seeing only the elf behind her and the prospect of cutting him down. Arilyn would not give way, though. For several moments the battle went on. Two of the Watch took notice and began to close in on the combatants. One of them came to an astonished halt.

"That's it. I didn't sign on for this." The man turned and headed for the stairs.

Elaith followed the man's line of vision, and gasped in astonishment. A tall, rangy elven woman stood at the edge of the ring, her translucent sword drawn and her ghostly face daring any to interfere with the challenge beyond. More of the patrons noticed the apparently venge shy;ful spirit, and more took to the exits in frantic haste.

Elaith could not move so much as a step. He knew that elf. It was-or had been-Thassitalia, a warrior whom he had known on Evermeet. She had wielded the moonblade Arilyn carried and had bequeathed it to Amnestria, the willful, wild-hearted princess he had loved. That was very long ago, though. Why was Thassi shy;talia here? To help defend him, or to take vengeance upon him for his many misdeeds? Perhaps even to reclaim the Mhaorkiira and destroy the elf who dared to wield it!

Before an answer came, the ghostly elf faded away. Arilyn finished the battle and sprinted to Elaith's side.

"Any way out of here?"

The return to practicalities steadied him. Elaith used the points of his daggers to prod people out of the way. The two elves made their way to a back room. He threw aside a small carpet and opened the trap door hidden below.

They dropped into the opening and fled in silence through the tunnels. When finally they stopped for breath, Arilyn got right to the point.

"What do you have to do with these dream spheres?"

Perhaps it was the appearance of Thassitalia, per shy;haps the sight of a moonblade raised in his defense. "I have them," he said frankly, for he suspected that there was little she did not know. "When presented with the opportunity, I took it. In a way, this is self defense: I am using them to set my enemies against each other."

"Do you realize the implications of what you have done?"

"Things may have gotten out of hand." The elf felt more vulnerable and open than he had for many years, and he described some of the truly ugly dreams that had recently been coming through the magical spheres. "I can't begin to fathom where some of them are coming from."

Arilyn thought this over. A suspicion that she could not entirely grasp came to her. "Let me see the Mhaor shy;kiira."

When the elf hesitated, she drew her sword and threw it aside, following it with the knife in her boot and the hunting knife in her belt. "I am unarmed," she said. "You can easily take it back."

"That was not my concern," Elaith said.

"I know what your concern is," she snapped. "A moment's contact won't corrupt me, even if I'm wrong."

The elf's face was deeply puzzled, but he produced the ruby from a pocket of his jacket and handed it to her.

Arilyn studied the stone, turning it over carefully and running her fingers over the glittering facets. It was a beautiful thing, deep red and perfectly cut. Magic vibrated through it-even she could sense that. All the same, she was certain that this was not the dark stone of legend.

"How much did you pay for this?" she asked.

Elaith looked startled. "Six hundred gold. Why?"

"That's a lot for a piece of crystal."

The elf looked as if he wasn't sure whether to be puzzled or outraged. "Explain," he requested coolly.

"You're still alive," the half-elf said with a faint, cold smile. "You know what I am-what I have been. There is enough anger in me to give the Mhaorkiira a foothold. I wouldn't need much of an excuse to kill you.

"More importantly, Dan is still alive. You even came to his aid. I doubt you would have done that if you were under the influence of the rogue stone."

His answering smile was bitter. "You do not know the entire legend, Princess. If there is a seed of evil, the rogue stone will make it grow, but creatures beyond redemption can handle it with impunity. I am still clear of mind and will, quite capable of making decisions that suit my whim. What does that say of me?"

Arilyn had never seen such emptiness in living eyes, or such despair. If anything, that only convinced her she was right.

"It is a counterfeit," she persisted. "Take me to the fence you bought it from and I'll prove it."

The elf conceded and led the way to a shop in Castle Ward. Arilyn stalked up to the one-eyed man and placed the stone on his table. "You sold this gem."

The man's gaze flicked from Elaith's face to Arilyn's as if seeking permission to speak. The elf nodded. "That is so," the fence said. "Why?"

"It's a fake. A crystal."

He drew himself up, outraged. "I know precious stones. That is a ruby. I stake my life on it."

"A bad choice of words, considering the company," Elaith said pleasantly. "Convince me."

The fence took up the stone and a glass. He began to study it. His confidence faded away by the moment, and he raised a horrified gaze to his visitors. "This is not the stone I sold you."

"I assure you that it is none other," Elaith said.

"Then it is not the one I bought."

Arilyn began to see through the problem. "Did anyone else look at the stone?"

"Two or three people. One I remember in particular. A young woman, very richly dressed and haughty. Her eyes were green, her hair a very bright red."

The half-elf snatched up the stone and seized Elaith's arm. Before the elf could protest, she hustled him out of the shop.

"That's Errya Eltorchul," she said tersely. "We need to speak with her."

Elaith nodded and began to climb the stairs carved into the thick stone wall of a cobbler's shop. The half-elf, understanding his intent, fell into step. They made their way onto the rooftops and set an unerring course for the Eltorchul manor, following a hidden path known only to those who made their way in the shadows.

Arilyn fell easily into the task and into the rhythms of the elf's quick pace. Without speech, they circled the rooftops around the Eltorchul estate until they caught sight of Errya.

The woman was in the garden. They dropped lightly from the wall, flanking her and closing in. Elaith pointed a wand at her. A shimmering ball darted toward her, enclosing her head and shoulders and cutting short her shrill scream. She turned to run, but the elf seized her and sat her none too gently back on the bench.

Arilyn's attention was elsewhere. A familiar-looking cat had vacated Errya's lap and was now sitting crouched a few feet away The tabby's gray tail was lashing in agi shy;tation, but there was a decidedly unfeline expression of wrath in the creature's eyes.

It was the cat that Errya had held when they had come bringing word of Oth's death. It was also the tabby Arilyn had seen in Isabeau's chamber in the Eltorchuls' country estate.

It was, in short, one well-traveled cat-if indeed it was a cat at all.

Arilyn leaped, arms outstretched to seize the tabby. The creature vanished in a puff of acrid blue smoke.

"What the Nine bloody Hells was that?" demanded Elaith.

Arilyn looked down at the noblewoman and saw her suspicions confirmed in Errya's look of mingled panic and fury.

"That," she said emphatically, "was Oth Eltorchul."