Songs & Swords 1 (40 page)

“It is a mistake,” protested the elfshadow, glaring at Kymil’s prone form with undisguised hatred.

The half-elf’s chin lifted. “Perhaps so, but it is mine to make.” She lifted the moonblade, and for a moment Arilyn and her shadow faced each other.

At last the elfshadow bowed slightly and spread her hands, palms up, in the elven gesture of respect. The shadow faded into blue mist, which in a small quick vortex disappeared into the sword’s moonstone.

Arilyn slid the moonblade back into the scabbard at her side and walked toward her companions. Bran had helped Danilo to his feet, and the young man was busily fussing over his once-fine clothing.

“Danilo.”

He looked up at the half-elf. Her clothing was torn and bloodied and her face was nearly gray with exhaustion. To his perceptive gaze her elven eyes spoke as clearly as words. Finally, Arilyn was at peace with herself, and she was mistress of the moonblade.

“Now it’s over,” she said.

“Did I sing you the ballad about the Marsh of Chelimber?” Danilo asked the Harper.

“Twice,” Bran Skorlsun said.

“Oh.”

Arilyn chuckled. “Did you notice that the number of goblins and lizard men grows with each rendition? I expect that next he’ll throw an orc or two into the pot for spice.”

Arilyn, Danilo, and Bran lingered over sparkling wine at the House of Good Spirits, the night speeding by as they talked. The tavern emptied around them. Chairs went up on tables; barmaids slipped away to seek their beds. The innkeeper dozed behind the bar, his pockets weighted down by the gold Danilo had slipped him.

Despite their shared adventures and the various ties that bound them, they knew little of each other. The three were greedy to learn more of their companions’ histories, dreams, and plans. By sunrise, they had made a start at that.

Inevitably the talk turned to the events of the day before. “Now that your good name is restored, what do you plan to do?” Bran asked Arilyn.

A thoughtful expression crossed her face. “The Harper tribunal found me innocent, but that does not necessarily restore my name. I should be able to find work, but it could be years before I regain my reputation.”

“As an assassin?” Danilo said ingenuously.

Arilyn cast her eyes skyward and sighed. “Thank you for putting things back in perspective.”

“How about you?” Bran asked Danilo. “Do you still believe that Khelben and the Harpers were wrong in their manner of dealing with the elfgate?”

Danilo chose his words carefully before answering. “For a time I did. When I tried to think of a better way, however, I couldn’t come up with one. I might not approve of all that Khelben has done, but I was not the one who had to face his decisions.”

“What about the dangers inherent in secrecy?”

“They remain,” Danilo admitted, looking slightly troubled. “Again, I see no real alternative. Working for good and maintaining balance are often matters of small degrees. If you wish to shape a bush you must prune it gently, not take a scythe to it.”

Bran smiled. “We have need of insight and talent such as yours.” The Harper reached into an inside pocket of his cape and drew out a small box. Inside gleamed a Harper pin, the tiny crescent moon and harp rendered in fine silver. “This pin is a pale thing next to most of your finery,” the older man teased gently as he handed the box to Danilo, “but it is a sign of rare value. It is my pleasure to offer it to you, along with a place among the Harpers.”

When the young man hesitated, Bran urged, “Take it and wear it with pride. You deserve to be known for what you truly are.”

“I am honored by your trust, do not mistake that,” Danilo assured him. “In the role of village idiot, I’ve been fairly effective. I cannot continue my work if I am a known Harper.”

“You may have little choice in the matter,” Bran pointed out with a touch of humor. “Your own ballad will spread your fame.”

Arilyn laughed. “Your role has served you well, Danilo, but isn’t it time you outgrew it? You should get the respect that you deserve, and you are resourceful enough to develop new methods.”

“Uncle Khelben did suggest something like that,” Danilo reflected.

Bran smiled again and held out the emblem. “This is a pleasure indeed. Khelben will not like it that I have usurped his privilege, and it is rare that I am handed such an opportunity to irritate the good wizard.” The Harper joined in with Danilo’s laughter, then he put the box down in front of the young man and clasped him by both forearms: an adventurer’s salute to a fellow and an equal. “You are a good man, my son,” Bran concluded.

Deeply moved, Danilo accepted the pin. “Thank you. You have already given me a greater gift. Such acceptance I’ve never received, not even from my own family.”

“That’s got to end, too,” Arilyn decreed. “The Thann family will hear of everything that you have done, if I have to sit them down one at a time and make them listen at swordpoint.” Her face softened, and she laid a hand on Danilo’s shoulder. “I am glad for you. You deserve this honor.”

“Do not think that I have forgotten you,” Bran said to Arilyn. He removed his own weathered pin and offered it to her.

Arilyn drew back. “I can’t take that,” she protested.

“Why not? I’ve never met anyone more deserving.”

“But it is your own—”

“All the more reason why you should have it,” Bran said. “The gods know, I have given you little of myself.”

Arilyn looked at the Harper, surprised by the sadness in his voice. “I do not fault you. We all do what we must. You did no less.” Her voice took on a businesslike tone. “I accept. You know, however, what the giving of a Harper pin means?”

“Of course,” Bran responded with a puzzled smile.

“You will be expected to vouch for me, to supervise me until I am accepted as a Harper in my own right,” continued Arilyn as if she had not heard him. “Given my past and the notoriety this trial has afforded me, that will not be a pleasant task and it could take some time. Will you be around to do this or do you plan to again disappear to the far corners of the world?”

The Harper’s heart wanned to the appeal that lay behind Arilyn’s words. The prospect of getting to know his extraordinary daughter made his remaining years beckon to him with a lure that the road had ever held.

“I will remain,” he said. “There is more than enough work for rangers in the North. Perhaps in time I shall retire to Waterdeep.”

“Oh, good,” said Danilo with a grin. “Uncle Khelben will be so pleased.”

“Speaking of the archmage, we must consult him concerning the elfgate,” Bran said. “Safeguards must be arranged, and its new position must be secured.”

Arilyn made note of the young man’s smirk. “What is it, Danilo?”

“What? Oh, just agreeing with the good Harper.” He rose from the table reluctantly. “I must be going now. It will take me several hours to explain my extended absence to my family, not to mention the various new scandals I’ve brought upon the family name of late. Father will merely be quietly disappointed, but my mother’s reaction would do credit to a red dragon.”

Arilyn stood, too, her eyes blazing with battle light. “I’m coming with you.”

“Truly?” Danilo asked, looking vastly pleased. “I thought you were jesting.”

“I seldom do.”

Her tone was grim, and Danilo threw back his head and laughed. “By the gods, this should be worth watching.”

The trio left the tavern and retrieved their horses. Arilyn mounted and regarded the nobleman for a moment. His green velvet cape and extravagant jewels seemed a bit inappropriate for a newly made Harper. “Do you need time to change before we leave?”

“Whatever for, my dear?” Danilo drawled. With an indignant huff, he fussed with the floppy plumes on his latest hat. “I’ll have you know that this ensemble is considered the height of fashion in Waterdhavian society. At least,” he amended, “it will be once I’ve been seen wearing it.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, humoring his foolishness. “As long as I never have to hear that wretched ballad again, I’m content.”

Danilo smirked in Bran’s direction and swung himself into his saddle. “The lady has taste, it would appear. At least,” he amended as his gaze swept pointedly over her travel attire, “she has taste in matters of music.”

Arilyn looked down at her usual clothes: boots, trousers, a loose white shirt, and a dark cape. Her only ornamentation was a weathered Harper pin. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“I had hoped we could celebrate properly after we vanquish Lady Cassandra Thann. Forgive me, my dear, but that outfit simply will not do.”

“I like it.”

“Yes. Well. As it happens I managed to do a little shopping after the trial.” Danilo reached into his magic sack and drew out a cloud of diaphanous sapphire silk. He held it up, displaying a day gown of rare beauty.

Arilyn regarded him soberly. “I can see your hands through the fabric,” she commented.

His only response was a broad smile.

“Tell me, Danilo, how much of the dandy is real and how much is contrived?” she asked, his contagious smile catching her lips, too.

“One must keep up appearances,” he said, returning the garment to the sack. “I take it you don’t like the gown.”

“Good guess.”

“Let’s see, what else would suit you? Have you ever considered a blue velvet gown, perhaps cut down to about here? No? Then at the very least, a blue shirt. Deep blue silk, with just a sprinkling of gold jewelry. Perhaps a cape of matching velvet. Yes!” Danilo exclaimed. “As it happens, I know this marvelous little shop, right on the way, that—”

Arilyn reached over and smacked the flanks of Danilo’s stallion. The horse let out an offended whinny and took off down the road, and the rest of Danilo’s words drifted into the wind.

Arilyn looked down at her father. Slowly she extended her hands, palms up, in the elven gesture of respect. Tears held unshed for many long years glistened in the Harper’s eyes as he returned the salute. His daughter gave a sharp shake to the mare’s reins and sped off after Danilo Thann.

“One mystery remains, Danilo,” Arilyn noted as they rode together through the streets of the city. “Where did you put the elfgate?”

Danilo gave her a solemn look. “I moved it to the safest place I could imagine.”

“Well?”

“Blackstaff Tower.”

“What?”

Mischief broke over Danilo’s face like a sunrise. “Can you think of a safer place? Or a man more inclined to keep secrets?”

“No, but—”

“There’s more,” Danilo said. “I put the elfgate in Laeral’s chambers. Since the good lady mage spends much time in Evermeet, I thought I might make it more convenient for her to stop by and visit Uncle Khelben more frequently. Do you think that might improve his disposition?”

Arilyn’s laughter rang out. “It might. There is one problem, though. When the elfgate was in Evereska, I always felt drawn to the temple of Hannali Celanil. Does this mean I’ll feel compelled to visit Khelben Arunsun?”

After sharing a chuckle with Arilyn over the picture she’d painted, Danilo sobered. “Actually, the location is appropriate. The elfgate created many imbalances. Moving it to Blackstaff Tower might help remove the wedge its creation placed between Evermeet and the Harpers.”

“You’re already talking like a Harper,” Arilyn teased him. “Do you also plan to give up your frivolous ways?”

Instead of answering, Danilo removed the Harper emblem from his silken tunic. He folded back his cape and securely fastened the silver pin to the lining. The smile he turned on Arilyn was the lazy, vacant smirk of Waterdeep’s celebrated fashion plate and most notoriously inept mage.

“Me, a Harper?” Danilo laughed. “My dear girl, that jest would inspire much mirth in some circles.”

Arilyn smiled faintly. “So that’s the way things will be.”

“I think it’s best,” he said lightly. “What about you?”

“When I began my training, Kymil Nimesin told me that the moonblade set me apart. I’ve always felt that I had to stand alone, that I was a shadow to the sword’s power. But the moonblade is mine, and things must change.”

Arilyn drew the sword and pointed to the line of runes. “There are nine runes now; this new one is mine.” She paused and chose her words carefully. “It is not so much a power, but the removal of certain restrictions.” She turned the moonblade and offered it to Danilo, hilt first.

His gray eyes filled with understanding. Arilyn was offering him far more than her sword. Deeply moved, he accepted the symbol of her friendship and cradled it in his burned hands. “A rare and precious thing,” he murmured, looking not at the moonblade but at the half-elf’s face. “You honor me by sharing it.”

Their gaze clung for a long moment, then Arilyn’s eyes slid away. Her uncertain expression tugged at Danilo’s heart. To lighten the moment, he assumed a cocky grin and returned the magic sword to its master. “Things of value should always be shared. Your beauty, for instance.” He drew the translucent gown from his bag with a flourish. “Now, about this gown…”

Arilyn’s smile brightened her face. “Don’t push it.”

About the Author

A transplanted New Engender and former teacher, Elaine Cunningham resides with her husband, Bill, and their two children, Andrew and Sean, in their cat-infested home in suburban Maryland. By day, she enjoys the company of her two extremely busy little boys. Writing comes during naps and preschool, nights and weekends. She often wishes there were another six hours in each day and that coffee was a tax-deductable expense. Elfshadow is her first novel.