Silver Shadows (37 page)

“Never said I was goin’, now did I?” Jill grumbled. “But since this ding-blasted elf here has gone and signed hisself up, I suppose I gotta go along and look out fer him-Gets into fights, he does, without never once

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stoppin to think on whether or not he can win ‘em!”

Td be happy to have you both,” Arilyn said. “And you needn’t enter that palace. You two can wait for us outside and hold the horses.”

“Horses! I rode me a donkey this far, and 111 be a one-headed ettin if n Fll trade him in fer one o’ them long-legged hay-eaters,” Jill said darkly.

“In that case, we’d better leave at once,” Ferret observed, not recognizing the bluster behind the dwarfs gruff arguments.

But at Foxfire’s insistence, Arilyn agreed to wait until morning before setting out. They settled down to rest for the journey ahead. Soon Jill was snoring lustily, and the practical elves Ferret and Kendel were deep in reverie. But to Arilyn’s eyes, the usually serene Foxfire seemed restless, preoccupied. When the first flickering lights of the firebugs announced the coming night, he asked Arilyn to walk with him.

The People face many battles ahead,” he said somberly. “Within the forest, I am an able commander. The Elmanesse have not suffered raids by other tribes for many years, and even the ores know to keep a wide berth from our hunting lands. But these new troubles are beyond me. You are needed here. Do not stay long from the forest.”

“A few days, no more,” she promised him. “But there are things I must do that can be accomplished only in the city. As I said before, we must know why Bunlap does what he does. In Zazesspur I have contacts; Fll get to the bottom of this problem.”

“I believe you will. We work well together, you and I,” he agreed.

Suddenly Foxfire stopped and faced the half-elf, taking both her hands in his. “There is something I must say before you go. We do well as we are, but I would make our partnership deeper. How much more could we accomplish if we could speak mind to mind, sense the other’s thoughts and plans without words? Enter with

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me into rapport, Arilyn, and when you return from the city, stay with me in the forest for all time!”

Arilyn stared at the elf, too dumbfounded to speak. Rapport was the most intimate bond between elves, one that would last for the remainder of their mortal lives. It was uncommon even among the People, and almost unheard of for an elf to establish rapport with a human. She was not even certain that she, who was only half-elven, was capable of this mystic elven bond.

And to her astonishment, Arilyn realized she did not really want to try. Foxfire was a noble elf, admirable in all the ways that she valued. He was also a good and true friend, and she cared deeply for him. But though she loved the elf, the idea of entering into such a bond with him seemed wrong. It was not in her to do. Foxfire was everything Arilyn had ever thought she wanted, but for some reason it was not enough.

There were no soft words to explain these things to the elf. The only alternative method of responding was considerably less noble, but it was all that came into the half-elf s mind. And so Arilyn prepared to do what many another decent woman had done under similar circumstances: lie through her teeth.

“You do me more honor than you know,” she began, starting with words she could speak in all sincerity. “I admire how deep your devotion to your tribe runs. And you are right. We would do much better as battle leaders if we could know each other’s minds without words.” “Do not for a moment think I suggest rapport only for the benefit of the tribe,” Foxfire said with a little smile. “It would be no hardship for me to enter such a bond.” “Nor to me,” she told him. “But I cannot. I… I have already joined with another.”

Foxfire stared at her for a long moment. “But how is this possible? Until midsummer’s eve, you were a maiden still!”

“Well then, what of the twin-born?” she counteijed. “They form rapport from birth. There are many means of

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establishing bonds. As precious as midsummer was to me, there are other things in life equally worth sharing.”

Understanding came in bleak waves into his eyes. “I see. Forgive me,” he murmured.

She placed one hand on his shoulder. “There is nothing to forgive, only thanks to be spoken for the honor you have shown me.”

He nodded and covered her hand with one of his, accepting her decision with grace. “It is late, and the morning will come all too soon. You must rest if you are to travel,” he said.

They made their way back to the place were Ferret and Kendel rested in reverie. But Arilyn did not sleep, nor, she suspected, did Foxfire find his way into the fey repose of the elves.

The two elf women and their odd escorts traveled east along the forest*s line—a longer path, but Arilyn wanted to put as much space as possible between them and Bunlap’s fortress before entering open terrain. They traveled on foot the first day. Then Arilyn, in her guise of human lad, slipped into a farming village and bartered some of her emergency coin for a trio of sturdy horses—and a donkey for Jill.

Arilyn set a fast pace through the foothills, heading for Tinkersdam’s hidden lair. The task ahead was tailor-made for the special skills of the eccentric alchemist. There were times that called for subtlety and finesse; this was not one of them.

They pressed their mounts as fast as Arilyn dared— and Ferret would allow—and they reached the entrance to Tinkersdam’s cavern in the middle of the night. Arilyn led the way through the curtain of pines into the cavern and then down the winding passages toward the lair.

Tinkersdam was awake and at work, as Arilyn had anticipated he would be. The alchemist had little regard

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for schedules of any sort. Here, in a cavern deep within the hills where there was no natural light to mark the passing of time, he was even saved from the minor annoyance of day and night.

When the four travelers entered the alchemist’s lair, they found him lying on his back under a large wooden contraption that had the size and appearance of a carriage. His plump, bowed legs stuck out from under it, and his feet were dangerously close to a simmering kettle.

Arilyn reflexively reached out to move the hazard away, but two things quickly occurred to her: Tinkersdam might appear preoccupied, but he was always incredibly aware of his surroundings. He would be less likely to kick over the kettle than a halfling would be to skip dinner. Secondly, there was no apparent reason why the kettle should be simmering. It hung on a tripod over the bare stone of the cave. There was no fire beneath it, not even a pile of glowing coals. Ergo, whatever was in that kettle was better left alone.

“So you’re back,” Tinkersdam announced, not bothering to come out from under his current invention. “Brought friends, I see.”

The half-elf stooped down and peered at the alchemist, who was busily connecting an odd network of tubes and vials. Arilyn did not want to think about what explosive force he might have in mind to power this strange conveyance. Tve got a job for you,” she said.

“As you can see, I’ve got one at the moment,” Tinkersdam pointed out.

Words danced ready on Arilyn’s tongue: the importance and urgency of the task ahead, the impact it would have on the elven folk, her own desperate need to free her Harper partner, if not herself, from the servitude demanded by the sword she carried. But none of this, she knew, would have the slightest impact on the alchemist.

“How would you like to blow up a palace?” Arilyn asked casually.

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Tinkersdam looked at her at last with the expression of one who hardly dared to hope he might have heard aright. “How would I like to? As in, what method would I prefer to use?”

“Bad choice of words,” the Harper agreed dryly. “You can use any method you like, but there must be enough of an explosion to throw all who are within the palace walls into confusion. The explosion must come from inside, and it must happen quickly, so as not to alert whatever passes for a city guard in Zazesspur these days.”

The alchemist scooted out from under the carriage, bounded to his feet, and bustled over to a table. Muttering all the while, he began to toss odd-smelling powders and tip flasks of liquid into a large caldron, working with apparently indiscriminate haste.

“I’ve been wanting to try this for years,” he said happily, briskly stirring all the while like a goodwife beating a batch of biscuits. “Oh, I’ve run the odd small test or two, but nothing truly substantial.”

“That mansion you rendered into rubble in Suzail— that wouldn’t by any chance have been one of those small tests?” Arilyn asked cautiously.

“Oh, yes, indeed. I’m looking forward to seeing what this can do when given a bit of time and space. What palace are we destroying, if I might ask?”

“The home of Abrum Assante.”

“Not the master assassin?” demanded Ferret, speaking for the first time since they had entered the cavern. “Are you utterly moon-mad?”

Arilyn turned to the incredulous elf. “Assante has something we need. You remember the story you told of the Soora Thea, the hero who will return? Well, she can and will, but first we have to get her from her resting place—in Assante’s treasure chamber.”

The elf s eyes lit with hope and then blazed at this sacrilege. “So that is what the dwarf has been blathering about! The liddle blue-haired elf woman,’ indeed! Of

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course I will help. But you said the explosion must come from within the compound. How is this possible? Its defenses are nearly proverbial!”

Arilyn quickly outlined the story of her previous mission and described the water-filled tunnel they would need to swim to get in. “But we cannot take her out the same way. We will have to go out by the front door. And the only way to do that is to create enough chaos to convince Assante that he must use his escape tunnel. We will await him there and persuade him to see us safely out of the complex.”

“And then he will die,” Ferret added. “I can think of no man who would be more dangerous if left alive to nurse such a grievance. Even within the safety of Tethir, I would be ever looking over my shoulder! But what then? How are we to carry the sleeping hero into Tethir?”

“As luck would have it,” Arilyn said dryly, “I have a friend working in the shipping guild. He will help make the arrangements.”

“Here you are,” the alchemist said, handing each of the elf women a small bowl. Arilyn glanced at hers. It appeared to be fine Shou porcelain, and around its rim was painted a ring of fire-breathing serpent dragons. A clear, waxy substance, still somewhat pliable, filled the bowl, and a cotton wick thrust up from it. At the bottom of the bowl was a layer of multicolored crystals.

“To all appearances, a candle,” Arilyn said with admiration. “How long before the fire burns down?”

Tinkersdam shrugged. “An hour. Perhaps a bit less. Just be sure you are well away from it when it ignites. And put the bowls so that the fuchsia dragon—see that one over on the side?—points in the direction in which you want to direct the most damage.”

“Assante’s palace is fashioned of Halruaan marble, and the walls are a good foot thick. Are you sure these two will be enough?” •

The alchemist’s face took on a pinched, peevish

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expression. “Five of them would destroy a good part of the city! Why is it that the ignorant and the uninformed insist that anything of Halruaan make has an edge on the rest of the world? Bah!”

An idea, one that Arilyn would have dismissed as insane in less desperate times, leaped into her mind. The rivalry between Lantan’s priests of Gond and the artificers of Halruaa was legendary.

“How would a Halruaan wizard prepare a fortress for attack?” she asked.

“Badly,” Tinkersdam said with a sniff of professional disdain. “An artificer might do somewhat better, but even so!”

“You could anticipate such traps and dispel them? Of course you could,” Arilyn said quickly. “All right then, here’s what we’re going to do. We four must go to Zazesspur to tend to Assante’s palace. We will then return here, pick you up, and take you to the battle. Can you have ready the things you’ll need?”

“I expect so,” the alchemist said absently, his attention turning back to the wooden conveyance. “You might pick up a few things for me in the city. Some coal, some powdered sulphur, a good-sized bag of alum, and a jar of pickled herring. Lunch, you know,” he added by way of explanation.

Arilyn swallowed a smile and led the way out of the caves. If it was herring that Tinkersdam wanted, she’d see that the Harpers and Amlaruil bought the alchemist his own fleet of fishing vessels! Provided, of course, that any of them survived the mission ahead.

By early morning they were in Zazesspur. Jill and Kendel took off to the parts of the city where non-humans would be less conspicuous. The two elf women made their way to Hasheth’s home. Before they’d reached the outskirts of the city, Ferret had paused to

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don the disguise she used to walk among the humans. For some reason, in her face paint and jewelry and silken clothes Ferret looked even more feral and deadly than the elven hunter and warrior that she truly was.

“Who is this friend of yours?” the wild elf asked in a low voice as they strolled along the broad streets, to all appearances, two elegantly clad women out for a morning promenade.

“Hasheth. A son of Pasha Balik”

“Ah. The Harpers have many threads in their webs,” Ferret said approvingly. “But I have seen this human; he is very young, is he not? Not quite a man.”

“He is not quite a friend, either,” said Arilyn with a rueful smile. “But he hears many things and passes most of them along. And he is becoming skilled in the sort of intrigues such as we might need.”

She opened the gate to a small marble town house and led the way through the small garden that fronted it. They were met at the door by one liveried manservant and ushered into a sitting room by another, who advised them that the young master had recently arisen and would be with them shortly. Apparently, Arilyn noted, Hasheth’s fortunes were on the rise.