Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [122]
"It is important. Listen well, Harper. In my bag is a key. It will admit you to my house on Selduth Street. See to it that my estate is settled and the means to raise Azariah directed to the temple." Elaith paused for a grim smile. "Solving that riddle spell will be good practice for unraveling my business affairs."
A spasm of pain crossed the elf's face, and beads of sweat began to collect on his upper lip. His amber eyes sought Danilo's, and the fierce gaze reminded the Harper of a dying hawk. The elf would not submit to the poison, however, until his mind was at ease. "Swear to it! Swear that you will see that my daughter receives her inheritance."
"There is no need for that" Danilo said quietly. He nodded to the faint blue glow emanating from Elaith's left side. The magic stone on the hilt of the moonblade was alight with inner fire. "You have accomplished that yourself."
Elaith reached over and touched the moonblade with awe. A look of utter peace crossed his face, and at last his eyes closed as darkness claimed him.
"In death, he has regained his honor," Wyn said, regarding the magic elven sword with wonder in his green eyes.
"He's won a second chance," the Harper corrected, noting that the elf still breathed. "How he chooses to use it remains to be seen."
*****
Beneath the most dramatic sunset in living memory, the people of Waterdeep ventured out heading to the marketplace for the Twilight Meeting that marked the official beginning of Shieldmeet.
All the portable booths had been removed from the open-air market, leaving ample room for the thousands who gathered in the vast area. A raised platform stood in the center of the marketplace, and a faint bowl of light surrounded it, providing illumination and amplifying the voices of those who would speak. There were sixteen thrones on the platform, one for each of the Lords of Waterdeep.
This was a matter of much speculation among the crowds, for the fate of the Lords seemed in no way certain. Most of the conversation, however, involved the events at the Field of Triumph. Dragon attacks were hardly common events.
The people recovered their equilibrium quickly, for Waterdhavians had seen it all and were as irrepressible and adaptable as any people in Faerun. Everywhere they were arguing about the identity of the strange bard, whether she or Khelben Arunsun was responsible for the wizard weather, and even whether they should confirm the rule of the Lords of Waterdeep or seek other solutions to their problems.
Vendors wove through the crowd, offering refreshments and-considering all that had transpired-herbs, salves, and potions to soothe the nerves and dull the pain of minor injuries. The wealthiest visitors and citizens settled into the raised, curtained seats that ringed the outer edge of the market, and servants tended to their needs and carried messages and wagers between the booths of various noble and wealthy families. Those of lesser station gathered in the middle of the marketplace, and soon the entire area resembled a living, closely woven tapestry.
In her hiding place over a nearby weapon shop, Lucia Thione could hear the sounds of the crowd as the throngs passed by on the way to the meeting. Elaith Craulnober had made all her travel arrangements, and had bid her to wait there for her armed escort. Lucia hated to leave Waterdeep, for she had lived in the city most of her life and had enjoyed her position here. Yet much of her wealth was secreted elsewhere, and she had substantial holdings outside Waterdeep. She would want for nothing, and she would start again.
As the twilight deepened into evening, there came a knock on the door in the elaborate code that the moon elf had prearranged.
Lucia nodded to her guard, and the man unlocked the door. A tall, red-haired man ducked to avoid hitting his head on the low lintel. He entered the room and affixed her with a sad, steady gaze. Lucia gasped and fell back from him.
"Your surprise is understandable, lady, considering the