Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [101]
Vartain pulled the embroidered sash that hung over the bed, ringing the bell that summoned the chamber servant. When the young man appeared, Vartain requested that a private, closed coach be sent to the back alley immediately. The matter was tended to swiftly, for some of Lord Thann's pilfered emeralds had gone to ensure that Vartain's every desire would be tended.
The riddlemaster made his way to the rear of the inn. He climbed into the coach and instructed the driver to take him to Halambar's Lute Shop. He also suggested a route that, if not the most direct, would be sure to take them to their destination in the least possible time, should certain anticipated conditions exist. The driver listened to Vartain's precise, detailed instructions and then, to the riddlemaster's utter bewilderment, he burst out laughing.
Vartain flopped back against the plushly padded seat of the coach, and for some reason he recalled young Thann's definition of humor looking at a situation from a new and different perspective. But was that not what he himself did? Was not his art the consideration of all possibilities, and the combination of observed facts into a logical whole? Yet Vartain often found himself puzzled while others laughed, and he took no pleasure in the telling of amusing tales for the sake of levity alone. Nor, apparently, did he tell them wed. "Great material, but your delivery could stink up a stockyard," a jester of casual acquaintance had once advised him. These thoughts presented a paradox to the riddlemaster.
As Vartain predicted, his coach did arrive at the music shop in short order. Even so, they were too late; Vartain saw the flick of a dove-white tail as the bard's horse rounded a corner at a brisk trot. He was not overly concerned; there was much he could garner from the bard's registration. Vartain climbed down from the coach and entered the shop.
He made a perfunctory bow to the haughty guildmaster and then went immediately to the table upon which the register was displayed. Ignoring the stool placed there for the comfort of the shop's patrons, he opened the book and thumbed through to the last entry. It read simply:
Garnet, a bard.
Entered Waterdeep the final day of Flamerule. That was today, Vartain noted.
The riddlemaster sank slowly down on the stool, staring with unseeing eyes at a display of unique magical instruments. Khelben Arunsun's suspicions about the sorceress's true name and nature were almost certainly correct. The name Iriador was derived from the Elvish word for "ruby," and it seemed fitting that the proud woman would take another precious stone as her name.
He pulled the scroll from his belt and unrolled it, looking over the possibilities and fitting together the pieces in a way that reflected this understanding. As he read, the details of her plot became clear to him. He knew exactly where Garnet would strike, who would be the target of her harp-given power, and what weapons she would employ.
Vartain scratched his chin, troubled by the dilemma this presented. By all accounts, he should hurry to the designated meeting place and tell his employers, Elaith Craulnober and Danilo Thann, all that he had learned. He was bound in honor to serve them with all his powers. That the two clearly had different goals in mind was of no concern to Vartain and did not enter into his internal debate. Something more basic and compelling guided the riddlemaster's hesitation.
Once before on this quest he had failed. In missing the dragon's riddle, he for the first time had fallen short of expectations. As Danilo Thann had so intuitively noted, Vartain