Elfshadow - Elaine Cunningham [62]
Danilo rolled onto his side and gazed through the open window into the starless sky. The night matched his mood-eerie, brooding, uncertain. Although the autumn moon was full and round and silver, the night was dark. The brisk wind tossed clouds across the sky, and only occasionally did the moon glimpse though an opening. For lack of anything better to do, Danilo watched the scurrying clouds, idly observing the play of moonlight against the walls of the inn's most humble chamber.
So he lay, counting the hourly chiming of the bells from the nearby temple of Torm, until finally, lulled by the restless moonlight, he drifted into an uneasy slumber.
* * * * *
A shadowy figure glided silently down the hall of the inn. It moved inexorably toward the chamber at the far end. A heavy door bore the proud legend, "King Rhigaerd's Chamber," commemorating some long-ago chance visit by that past king of Cormyr. The occupant of this chamber was usually the inn's most honored guest. Tonight proved no exception.
The door swung open without its customary creak, and the intruder slipped into the room. Rhys Ravenwind curled under the thick coverlet, one hand flung lovingly against the soundboard of the harp at his bedside. The dark figure crept to the side of the bed, and, taking up one of Rhys's clever, long-fingered hands, pressed a grim object into the bard's palm.
There was a faint hiss of burning flesh. When the sound faded, the assassin opened the window and flitted silently into the night. A gust of wind caught the strings of the harp, and an almost mournful chord was the instrument's farewell to its owner.
* * * * *
Down the hall, in a small chamber never graced by royalty, Arilyn Moonblade tossed and twisted on her pallet in the grip of a nightmare.
Whenever the moonblade sent her a dreamwarning, Arilyn immediately woke up and prepared to face whatever danger approached. It was practical, efficient. This dream had all the intensity and immediacy of a dreamwarning, yet no matter how hard she struggled to awaken, she could not free herself of sleep. Something was holding her back, something dark and ancient and full of a despair that was partly her own.
Breathing hard, Arilyn found herself sitting upright on the floor of the House of Fine Spirits' most humble chamber. Still groggy, she dug her fists into her eyes, rubbing away the last vestiges of sleep. She stretched noiselessly, then tugged on her boots. Since she could never sleep after such a dream, she decided to take a walk.
Arilyn froze, suddenly not certain that she truly was awake. The clouds had parted, and the moon cast its light into the room, revealing a slender, shadowy figure bent over the sleeping form of Arilyn's troublesome companion.
Danilo! Without another thought she snatched her dagger from her boot and leaped to her feet, ready to carve the heart from the intruder. She flung herself across the room at the assailant, dagger leading. To her complete bafflement, the slash that should have killed the intruder merely sliced open Danilo's lumpy pillow. She hit the cot hard, and a cloud of feathers puffed into the air.
Danilo awoke with a startled "oof," and his arms closed reflexively around his attacker.
"Let me go!" Arilyn demanded, pushing herself up on her elbows and away from the bed.
The dandy's eyes widened in shock as they focused on the dagger still in Arilyn's hand, but he merely tightened his grip on her waist. "Good gods, woman, haven't I told you