Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [105]
"He is not here, I'm afraid," Laeral said, and her bare shoulders-at this time of the day!-lifted in a graceful, apologetic shrug.
Despite the mage's polite words, Lucia got the distinct impression that Laeral was not at all displeased with the situation. The noblewoman's tiny chin firmed and lifted to an imperious angle. "Would you be so good as to tell me where I might find him? Or Caladorn, for that matter?"
Silver eyes twinkled, and a dimple flashed briefly on the mage's face. "I regret that such goodness is beyond me," Laeral murmured. "Khelben left the tower early this morning, and he did not mention his destination."
Before the frustrated noblewoman could respond, a young gold elf entered the reception hall, a silver lyre in his arms. He paused when he noted Lady Thione and made her a deep bow. The irrepressible Laeral dimpled and winked at the newcomer.
"Lady Thione, may I present Wyn Ashgrove. He is a minstrel and our guest at the tower. Wyn, Lady Thione is of the old royal family of Tethyr. Perhaps you might honor her with a song from her homeland?"
The elf agreed. He promptly seated himself and began to play a familiar melody on his silver lyre. His voice was high and sweet, and his skill remarkable, yet Lucia Thione had difficulty sitting through the elf's well-meaning performance. For one thing, she'd had entirely too much to do with bards of late! Even more exasperating was the amused gleam in Laeral's silver eyes. The mage was clearly aware of Lucia's eagerness to be off, and she was deliberately detaining her guest in a fashion that the noblewoman could not dismiss without displaying an appalling lack of breeding. Angry at being toyed with in such a fashion, Lucia Thione seethed throughout the elf's song. Despite Laeral's power, beauty, charm, and social position as Khelben Arunsun's lady, the mage remained somewhat of a rogue. With such a base trick, Lucia thought with a touch of malice, Laeral revealed herself as the common wench that shewas!
As soon as the last silvery chord faded into silence, Lucia Thione rose to her feet "Thank you for your lovely tribute, Master Ashgrove," she said, using her most regal tones to hide how flustered she truly felt. "Please accept in return this small tribute to your skills." She reached into her money purse and selected one of several small coin bags. She handed it to the elf. He rose and accepted it with a polite bow.
The noblewoman's farewell to the lady mage was as frosty as propriety allowed. Although Laeral did not appear to realize that she had been put in her place, at least she had the decency to escort Lady Thione to the street without further mockery.
Lucia settled into her carriage, deeply troubled by the morning's events. Bergand would not be leaving for Nim-bral until after the Midsummer Faire, and Garnet could not be put off. She would not wait that long for a helm of a Lord of Waterdeep, and the only one Lucia had a hope of procuring was Caladorn's. Unless she got it quickly, she stood the risk of being unveiled before Garnet and the Knights of the Shield. The helm she must have, right away, and at any cost.
With a deep sigh, she resolved herself to the necessary course of action. Tapping briskly on the carriage glass, she got the driver's attention and instructed him to take her to Diloontier's Apothecary. The posh shop, located in the heart of the Castle Ward, catered to the needs of wealthy ladies and dandies who required herbal and magical balms, perfumes, and potions, and it possessed a sterling reputation and a clientele that included many of those whose names were featured on society's first-choice guest lists. Diloontier