The Dream Spheres

Ten

Arilyn led the way through the narrow streets of Skullport, with Danilo following close on her heels. Although the city lay directly beneath his native Waterdeep, and though both were port cities, he could not conceive of two places more different.

Here all was squalid, sordid, and ugly. Ramshackle buildings leaned and listed as precariously as scuttled ships. Creatures from at least two-score races, many of them outlawed in the city above, shoved past each other on the crowded streets. A one-legged beggar was toppled by the rude throng. He made no call for help, obviously realizing that none would be forthcoming, but struggled to right himself with the aid of a home-carved crutch. But like most of Skullport, the man's appearance was deceiving. Far from helpless, he nimbly sliced the ear off a sly-faced goblin who sought to pick his pockets. Like his intended victim, the goblin did not seek aid. He merely snatched up the bit of living leather, clapped it to his head, and reeled off in search of a healer-or pos shy;sibly just a mirror and a needle.

Arilyn's companion took this in with growing dismay.

She'd had misgivings about bringing Danilo into this dank, dismal, lawless place. Though at her insistence he had donned rough clothes more suitable to a dockhand than a gentleman bard, he looked thoroughly, miserably out of place.

"I must say, this is no improvement on Oth's cistern," he commented. "At least that was dry."

Arilyn could see his point. In Skullport, water was everywhere. Although it was a port city, it was entirely underground, far below sea level. Water dripped from the cavern ceilings and puddled on the walkways. It gave sustenance to the strange creeping molds and glowing fungi that writhed on the walls of the ram shy;shackle buildings or inched along the walkways. The scent of rot and mildew permeated everything, and foul mist clung to the lamplight. Even after a few minutes in the city, Arilyn's clothes clung damply to her, and her companion's mood was becoming nearly as oppressive as the thick air.

"You wanted to be part of my world," she said with only a moderate degree of exaggeration. "This is the sort of place I end up going."

Danilo glanced pointedly at her sword, which was dark and silent. "I would wager there are few forest elves in these parts. Shouldn't we go find some? Elsewhere?"

She pulled the neck of her clinging shirt away from her throat and dashed a damp lock off her forehead. "The sooner we're finished here, the sooner we leave." She nodded toward a row of dangerously tilting wooden buildings, lined up with all the precision of a patrol of drunken orcs, and started toward the narrow street that snaked between them.

Behind her Danilo cursed with impressive creativity. "For what, exactly, are we looking?"

"Perfume," Arilyn said dryly as she skirted a rather suspect pile. She recognized it as the spoor of a manti shy;core and quickened her pace. It was relatively fresh, and she had no desire to confront a monster with the body of a lion and the face and cunning of a man.

"Perfume. Good thinking," he congratulated her. "Given our current surroundings, I suggest we purchase it by the vat."

She shot a glare over her shoulder. "Do you intend to whine the entire way there?"

"Back, too, I should think. No sense doing half a job."

A trio of kobolds scuttled toward them from behind a pile of crates. They were hideous creatures, goblinkin whose bald heads came not much higher than Arilyn's sword belt. Their bulging yellow eyes held a frantic look, but their ratlike tails wagged in an eerily precise imitation of hounds eager to please their master. Their arms were full of fabric, not weapons, but Arilyn did not slow her pace.

"You look, maybe buy," one of them pleaded as it jogged alongside the half-elf. "Got lotsa good cloaks. Not much worn. Only one gots blood and guts on it, and them's already dried."

"Now there's a vendor's cry that any of Waterdeep's roving merchants might envy," Danilo murmured. He slowed down to address the kobold. "Blood and guts, eh? Does one pay extra for that sort of ornamentation?"

"Sure, sure. You want it, we put."

"Ah. An admirable arrangement, provided one is not the source of that particular decoration."

This bit of locution clearly baffled the small mer shy;chant. He settled back on his heels, and his rat's tail lashed about in apparent consternation, but the moment passed quickly, and the kobolds pressed in.

Arilyn elbowed one out of the way. "Don't encourage them," she told Danilo in a low voice. "Do you plan to die down here?"

"Oh, surely not. Three kobolds are no threat."

"Neither is one mouse. Problem is, there's never only one mouse. More are always hidden nearby. How do you think 'three kobolds' got their merchandise in the first place?"

This excellent reasoning prompted Danilo to pick up his pace. He kept step with the half-elf as she wove her way through the squalid town, toward the small shop where assassins purchased death by the drop.

"Pantagora's Poisons," Danilo said, reading the sign aloud. "Right to the point. No pretense, no dissembling. I find that quite refreshing."

Arilyn sent him a warning look and pushed open the door. The scene beyond was like something from a North shy;man's battlefield or a butcher's nightmare.

The air was thick with a distinctively sweet, coppery scent. Flies buzzed over sodden shapes. Dark pools seeped into the old wood of the floor. Somehow, blood had been spattered as high as the rafters. Here and there it had dried even as it dripped down, making it appear that the sodden timbers had wept long, black tears over the poison merchants' fate.

Never had Arilyn seen anything quite like it. She kicked at an empty boot, wondering how it had hap shy;pened to come loose of its wearer. On impulse, she made a quick mental tally of bodies and footwear. This boot was an extra. To all appearances, its former wearer had been dissolved as surely as if he'd been hit by a blast of dragonfire. From the inside.

She stooped beside one of the dead men. To someone who had seen death as often as she had, a corpse could talk without benefit of spell or prayer.

The signs were there, but they were conflicting and deeply disturbing. Thin, precise cuts marked the man's body. Arilyn rolled the dead man over and tugged up his shirt. There was little bruising on his back. Small wonder. By the time he died, there had been little blood left in his body to settle. The fine, thin sword that had killed this man had left layers of wounds, dealing death by the inch, by the trickle and drop. Someone had toyed with the man, taking time to kill him so he lingered far longer than she would have imagined possible.

Strange behavior for a thief. It was possible, of course, that the killer was an assassin by trade, perhaps a reg shy;ular customer whose skills and habits made it easier to kill than to pay. It seemed to Arilyn, though, that any assassin prompted by survival would never risk such an expenditure of time and vitriol. This killing held all the hallmarks of vengeance-or rage, or insanity, or an evil so intense that it no longer considered proportion or consequence.

Stranger still was the nature of the weapon. No human-made blade was so thin or so keen. The man had been slaughtered with an elven weapon. Of that Arilyn was grimly certain. Her mother's people were fierce, often merciless fighters, but few were given to such depravity. She knew of only two or three elves who would do such a thing. Just recently, in fact, she had seen Elaith Craulnober toy with a tren assassin, in very similar fashion.

Her sharp ears caught the sound of furtive foot shy;steps on the walkway outside the shop. She rocked back onto her heels and rose in a single, swift move. Gliding over to the door, she drew her sword and ges shy;tured for Danilo to move to the other side of the frame.

Slowly the door eased open, and a small, furtive faced peered around the corner. Arilyn stepped in and pressed the tip of her blade against Diloontier's throat.

The perfumer shrieked and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could block out the double terror of the looming sword and the carnage beyond. His face paled to the color of old parchment, and the bones of his legs seemed to melt to the consistency of jellied eel.

Before Arilyn could speak, Danilo seized the swaying man by the front of his shirt and jerked him into the room. He shook the perfume merchant as a vermin hound might worry a rat. This served to bring some color back to the man's face. When he started to struggle with a resolve and vigor that suggested he could stand on his own, Danilo released him.

Diloontier cracked open one eye and shuddered. "Too late," he mourned. "Gone, all of it!"

"That raises some interesting questions. We'll get to them in time," Arilyn assured him. She lifted her sword to his throat again. "What do you know about the tren?"

The man's eyes slid furtively to one side. "Never heard of them."

She gave her sword an encouraging little twitch. "Odd, that tunnels riddled with tren markings should converge beneath your shop. Strange that a door from the sewers leads into your drying shed. You can talk to me about this, or you can sit before the Lord's Council."

"Talking!" he conceded in a high-pitched voice. "Yes, it is true that sometimes I act as a broker for wealthy men and women who desire the tren's services. I make arrangements, but only through a second or third or twenty-fourth party! Truly! That is the agreed-upon method. It ensures I cannot give you or anyone else the name of my clients."

Arilyn wondered how the man might respond if pre shy;sented with a name. She sent Danilo a look that mingled inquiry and apology. His lips thinned, but he gave a slight nod of agreement. She turned back to Diloontier.

"All right, then. If you can't name your clients, I'll do it for you. Lady Cassandra Thann."

"I am a perfumer. Many of the noble folk patronize my shop," he began evasively. His explanation broke off in a surprised yelp of pain, and he looked down in horror at the stain on the half-elf's gleaming sword and the blood dripping onto his shirtfront.

"Not an important vein," Arilyn said evenly, "but I know where those are."

"I cannot tell you anything! My customers prize con shy;fidentiality!" he protested.

"More than you prize your neck?"

Diloontier didn't need long to balance that particu shy;lar scale. "Potions of youthfulness," he said, speaking so quickly that the words almost tripped over each other in their eagerness to emerge. "The Lady Cassan shy;dra has been buying them for ages, with the coming of each new moon. Forgive me, but how else could she keep the passing years from wresting her beauty from her?"

"I take it that you are not well acquainted with the lady," Danilo said dryly. "If anyone could stare down Father Time and win, it is she."

Arilyn lowered her sword. "What did you come here to buy?"

"It hardly matters, does it? There is nothing more here of value. Clearly, I did not kill these men. For all I know, you did!"

The half-elf's eyes went hard, but she realized at once that this was no idle threat. She was not the only one who would recognize the marks of an elven sword, and once again, here she stood over the work of an assassin. Fortunately, Diloontier had his own reputation with which to contend. "Mention our presence here to anyone," she snapped, "and the Watch captain will be reading an anonymous letter about your visit to this little shop. Now go!"

Diloontier darted for the exit. His boots beat a fran shy;tic, stumbling rhythm upon the wooden walk. The half-elf sighed and sheathed her sword.

Danilo looked sharply at her. "You let him go. Do you believe him?"

"About Lady Cassandra? Not a word of it. What does she need with youth potions, if she has elven blood? Although I suspect she would support Diloontier's lie rather than lay claim to her heritage."

He did not refute her. "There is nothing more to be seen here."

Arilyn was silent for a long moment. Actually, she suspected there was much, much more to be gleaned in this city. The tren came from these tunnels. So did poi shy;sons, which had most likely been used to kill Lady Dez shy;lentyr. Arilyn had gone to considerable trouble to find out Diloontier's supplier, visiting acquaintances she had not seen for years and creating markers that she dreaded paying.

However, at the moment there was little more that they could do. This place had yielded not answers, but new and disturbing questions. "Whatever Diloontier came to buy is long gone," she agreed. She nudged at one of the corpses with her boot. "Whoever killed these men has it."

"Killing to procure poison," Danilo mused. "Seems rather an indirect way to go about things, doesn't it? This is not my sphere of expertise, mind you, but it seems to me that the affair would run much smoother all around if the middle merchant were removed from the transaction."

That was precisely what Arilyn intended to do, but she was not yet ready to voice her intentions. In many ways, Danilo embraced elven ways more wholeheart shy;edly than she herself did. He trusted Elaith Craulnober and the pledge of Elf-friend. She could not bring herself to destroy that until she knew for certain that her sus shy;picions described truth rather than her own bias.

Nor was she quite ready to confront the old patterns and roles into which she was falling with such ease. Every time she turned she was slapped with reminders of her dark reputation. If truth be told, she felt more at home in Waterdeep's underbelly than she did at a noble shy;man's ball. Her human side was coming grimly to the fore, while the elven magic of her moonblade was oddly sporadic. At the rate she was going, Danilo might not have to worry about the inconvenience of life with an elven hero.

Arilyn glanced down at the moonblade, half hoping that it would summon her to duty with faint green light. Of course it did not.

She wondered if it would ever do so again.

* * * * *

When they returned to the city above, Danilo took at once to his bathhouse. After an hour in a hot tub, the memory of the underground city's fetid stench began to fade. Danilo was soaking still when his steward came tapping at the door.

"Your pardon, sir, but you have received a most urgent message from Lord Rhammas."

News of an invading flight of dragons would not have been more unexpected. Danilo all but leaped from the tub, sending bathwater and soap flying like a flock of small, startled birds. He seized a towel and strode from his dressing room. "Is someone hurt? Sick? Or is it Judith? Gods! Her babe is due at any time. Her first!"

The halfling wiped a blob of scented foam from his forehead. "Your sister is fine, sir. She has another moon and more to await the child's birth," he reminded Dan. "This message regards a personal matter of highly sen shy;sitive nature. Your father bids you to attend him at The Laughing Mermaid with all haste. I will have your horse brought to the front gate."

Somewhat reassured but still mightily puzzled, Danilo quickly dressed and then rode the few blocks to the posh tavern.

The Laughing Mermaid was one of the few drinking spots in the staid North Ward. It was equally famed for its sumptuous gaming tables and its small, private rooms. Danilo knew that Lord Rhammas prized the tavern as a place to gossip and gamble with his equally idle peers, but he had never thought of his father having cause to employ one of the meeting rooms. Certainly, Danilo had never expected a summons to such a meeting.

His curiosity was near fever pitch as he dismounted in front of the enormous, ugly marble statue of a cen shy;taur. He tossed his reins to the attentive groom and hurried up the stairs to the front hall.

One of the minotaur guards nodded, recognizing Danilo as a member. The creature beckoned for him to follow, then trotted off, its massive haunches bunching with each stride. Its long, curving horns swept through a low-hanging chandelier, coaxing a hushed tinkle from the crystals that brought to mind a bevy of schoolgirls whispering and giggling behind their small hands.

The minotaur stopped before a thick oaken door and snorted insistently, as if to indicate that its mission was complete-or would be, once Danilo entered the room. The sound was disconcertingly like a bull ready shy;ing for the charge, and Danilo got the distinct impres shy;sion that he could attend this meeting under his own power or be tossed through the door on the minotaur's horns. He gave the creature a coin, then slipped into the room.

Rhammas Thann rose to meet his son, reaching his hand out in the gesture of one comrade to another. Danilo took his father's hand as if this were the most normal situation in the world. They sat down across a small table and for a few minutes engaged in the sort of meaningless talk that oiled the wheels of every such meeting the room had ever hosted.

Finally Rhammas got to the point. "You enjoy consid shy;erable personal wealth. The fund your mother and I started for you at your birth has increased a thousand shy;fold and could keep you in style for the rest of your days. You have also your share of the wine business and the increase on your investment in the bard's college. I hear both are doing exceptionally well."

Danilo nodded cautiously. "That is the shape of things."

"I have cause to ask that you part with some small portion of your ready cash," Lord Rhammas said stiffly, and with obvious reluctance. The man paused, grimaced, and squared his shoulders to steel himself for words yet to come. "A matter of some delicacy has been brought to my attention. It is one I would just as soon keep from your mother's eyes."

"Ah." Danilo settled back in his chair and considered the summons in this clear light.

Of all his siblings, Danilo was the least involved in the Thann family affairs-and the son least likely to report back to Lady Cassandra. Judith, the sister near shy;est him in age and temperament, also tended to follow her own mind and inclinations, but Judith's husband, a merchant sea captain who cut a dashing figure and who claimed distant ties to Cormyr's royal family, owed his position and wealth to the Thann family shipping con shy;cerns. He was therefore as devoted to Lady Cassandra's whims and moods as any lapdog. Judith was as yet too besotted to realize what manner of toady shared her bed, and she held back nothing from her husband. Lord Rhammas would get little discretion from that quarter.

"A personal matter?" Danilo took care to keep his tone even, to ask a question without offering censure.

"That is so. Before I proceed, I must have your word that this will not be bandied about in one of your inane ballads."

"So pledged," Danilo said shortly. The comment stung more than it should. As well accustomed as he was to his family's indulgent disdain, it was becoming increas shy;ingly difficult to maintain the role he had chosen to play.

"Very well, then. A woman of my acquaintance finds herself in distress and wishes to leave this city quietly and soon. Discretion is imperative. Your mother tells me you have some connections among the Harpers. You have managed such things?"

"Many times," Danilo assured him. Of course, never once had he considered that such skills might enable him to attend his father's mistress-and by the sound of things, a woman inconveniently with child.

Danilo was not certain how he should feel about the matter. Bastards were nothing new among the nobility, or among the common folk either, for that matter. Many marriages were made for gain or convenience, and chil shy;dren conceived outside such unions were usually acknowl shy;edged and granted some measure of acceptance.

Even so, he could understand his father's desire to keep this matter entirely from Lady Cassandra's eyes. If his father wished to discharge his responsibilities with extreme discretion, Danilo was not about to gain shy;say him. He was not certain, however, whether this unexpected request should rightly be viewed as an insult or an expression of confidence.

One way or another, it mattered not. This was the first thing his father had ever asked of him. Whatever Rhammas thought of him, Danilo could hardly refuse.

"I will see the lady safely out of the city in a matter of days and see that she does not want for anything. Will that serve?"

"Admirably." Rhammas pushed a folded bit of parch shy;ment across the table. "You can find her there. She is expecting a visit from you this night. I hope that will be convenient."

It was far from convenient. Danilo considered the day he had spent and the plans he had for the night ahead. His servants were preparing a private feast for two, then anticipating a night's holiday while their master and his lady had the house to themselves-a stolen hour or two before they tended Danilo's latest social responsibility.

Frustration swept through him. One more duty, one more delay-and this time, he could not place the blame on Arilyn's moonblade.

"Convenient is not the word I would have chosen," he commented. "Nonetheless, all will be done as you ask."

* * * * *

When Danilo sent word canceling their evening plans, Arilyn had returned with the messenger and insisted upon accompanying Danilo into the Dock Ward. He seemed oddly preoccupied and was reticent about details of the task ahead.

A simple matter, he told her. He would make the first contact, then two Harper agents would see the plan through. That much was true, of that Arilyn was cer shy;tain, but she could not guess what truths remained unspoken.

Her questions settled into certainty the moment the young woman opened the door to her chamber. This woman was not Rhammas Thann's mistress, but his child.

Arilyn glanced from Danilo to the girl. The resem shy;blance was remarkable. Though her hair was an unusual shade of pale red-gold, her face had the same well-shaped features and sharply defined bones. Also famil shy;iar was the slender, graceful form reminiscent of dancers or-and this insight startled Arilyn-gold elves. The girl could probably claim an elven ancestor no more than two or three generations back. Arilyn had never seen the evidence of Danilo's distant elven heritage, but it was there beyond doubt in the mirror that was his sister's face.

Nor did the similarity end there. Familiar mischief lurked behind the girl's uncertain smile and intelli shy;gence was evident in the quick, observant glance she cast over her visitors. Arilyn would wager that the girl didn't miss much.

The tavern maid seemed reassured by what she saw, at any rate. She stepped back and swept a hand toward the poor room-a gesture that was at once sincere welcome and self-parody. "You are kind to come, Lord Thann."

"Lilly," Danilo said, studying the girl with puzzle shy;ment. "I did not expect to see you."

"I'll warrant you did not," she agreed. She glanced over at the half-elf and gave her a small, knowing smile-one that confirmed what Arilyn saw and gave a wordless, wistful commentary on the blindness of men. "Thank you for coming, lass. I'm taking it as a kindness that you came along with Lord Thann, seeing as how rough this part of town can be."

"You'll be safe soon enough," Arilyn assured her. She looked to Danilo to explain the plan.

His attention had been captured by a small object on the bed. "Is that what I think it is?" he demanded.

Lilly winced. "Aye, I'm guessing it is. A weakness of mine, I'm afraid."

"A dangerous one," he said sternly, sounding more like Khelben Arunsun than Arilyn would have thought pos shy;sible. She debated whether to remark on this and decided to keep this observation on hand for a later time. It was always wise to have a hidden weapon or two.

After a few words about the risks of taking magic lightly, Danilo quickly explained the arrangements. Two Harpers, Hector and Cynthia, would come to the tavern toward the end of the late shift. Hector would bring a small covered cart to the back alley, and Cynthia would slip up to Lilly's room. The two women were to change clothes, and Cynthia would stay in Lilly's place. Hector would take Lilly to the North Gate and place her in the charge of a discreet caravan master, who would give her passage to an orchard village outside the city. From there, it was westward to Suzail along with the new-pressed cider. At each step, Lilly would be supplied with coin and lodging. A substantial sum would await her in Suzail, enough to get her started in a new life of her choosing.

Lilly's eyes swam as she listened to Danilo's words. "This is your doing, not your father's. I'd wager my life on that," she said softly. A long moment passed, and she added, "It's more than I'd dare hope for, but for all that, I'll be sad to go."

"It is hard to leave home and family," Danilo agreed.

A wave of sympathy swept through Arilyn as she realized the pain these unwitting words would bring.

The girl's tears spilled over. She quickly dashed them away with the back of one hand and gave a shaky smile. "Aye, that it is."

As they rose to leave, Lilly dipped a curtsey to Dan and then held both hands out to Arilyn. It was a common form of leave-taking among women of the working class, a simple statement that the recipient was valued enough to warrant putting aside work entirely, if but for the moment. Arilyn understood the gesture for what it was: the only claim to sisterhood that Lilly would make.

On rare impulse, the warrior went one better. She gently pushed aside Lilly's offered hands and took the younger woman in a sister's embrace.

"The strength of Corellon, the beauty of Hanali, the joy of Aerali," she said softly, speaking the traditional elven blessing in the language of their foremothers.

Lilly pulled away and managed a smile. "Many's the year since I heard those words. The same to you, lass, though I've more respect for the music of the thing than to wrap my caterwauling tongue around it. Now, off with you both, before Hamish misunderstands the nature of this visit and tries to charge you rent by the hour." She made little shooing gestures with her hands, as if herding recalcitrant chickens.

They shooed, walking down the creaky back stairs and into the alley beyond, where Danilo attacked the problem at hand with unusual vigor. He wanted Arilyn's opinion on the best spot for the cart to wait, her assess shy;ment of possible ambush spots, and what they should do to ascertain whether or not additional Watch guards were needed. With an attention to detail that would not have been out of place in King Azoun's court, they went over the small escape.

When that was settled, Danilo's supply of words ran uncharacteristically dry. They walked together in silence, and the young bard's expression was unusually pensive. Arilyn began to doubt whether Danilo was as oblivious to Lilly's identity as he had seemed. After a time the half-elf's curiosity overflowed.

"Does Lady Cassandra know about Lilly?"

He looked startled. "I for one do not intend to apprise her! If Lord Rhammas wishes to confess his mistresses, he must tend to the matter himself."

"It's a bit late for that," Arilyn said dryly. When Danilo sent her a puzzled look, she shook her head in aston shy;ishment and dug in her bag for the tiny bronze mirror she carried. This she thrust before Danilo's face.

"Take a good look, and try to remember where you last saw those features. I'm thinking that you-and your sister-both managed to get a bit of elven blood from your various mothers, but you both got your father's eyes."

His puzzled expression froze, then he nodded slowly as he understood the truth of it. "Of course. I should have seen it. Perhaps I did-Lilly is a merry lass, and I liked her upon first meeting. She was serving at the Gemstone Ball," he explained. Sudden anger flashed into his eyes. "She was serving in her own father's house! How could Rhammas countenance such an insult to his child?"

"Perhaps he didn't know. You only learned of it just now."

"There is that," Danilo admitted. A faint smile crept onto his lips as he pondered this revelation. "A sister. How marvelous. You would think I had enough siblings that the novelty would have worn off, wouldn't you?"

"She needs you. The others don't," Arilyn pointed out.

Danilo looked surprised, then pleased. "That is so." He considered the matter and then cast a sidelong glance at her. "What would you say about wintering in Suzail? It is close to Cormanthyr. If the sages are right about a harsh winter to come, there will be the usual attempts to reduce the borders of the elven forest to firewood. Chances are, you'll be heading that way, anyway."

"True enough."

"It's settled, then," he said happily, taking her com shy;ment as assent.

Arilyn listened as he chatted on, full of plans for their time together and the life they would help his new-found sister build. It sounded so easy and hopeful that she could almost believe it might come true.

She glanced at the moonblade, almost afraid that it would be aglow with warning light or humming with silent energy. However, the elven sword was silent, as if content at last to reflect Danilo's high spirits and bright hopes.