Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [66]
The challenge in this transaction, Jannaxil mused, was finding a carrier foolhardy enough to take the drawing to the Dragon Tower. Maaril's tower was actually shaped like a dragon, standing upright on its haunches with its mouth flung open as if ready to attack. Although the odd tower was a landmark that held great appeal for children and visitors-especially at night when the light within made the dragon's eyes and mouth glow with a crimson fire-only the most intrepid ventured close enough for more than a peek. The tower was steeped in sinister magic, and even the streets surrounding it were dangerous.
Jannaxil pondered the matter for a long moment, then he smiled. A certain thief of his acquaintance had recently married into a clan of wealthy North End merchants. This family was newly come to wealth and were very conscious of their social position. Jannaxil knew the clan matriarch; she prized respectability above all and would not be accepting of her son-in-law's colorful past. Jannaxil was certain the erstwhile thief would do him this little favor, in exchange for continued discretion.
As Jannaxil had noted before, the secret to a fence's success was knowing the right price of everything.
*****
Music and Mayhem rode hard throughout the rest of the day, for they wanted to put as many miles as possible between themselves and the High Forest. The afternoon fled, and by sunset they had left the marshlands behind.
The moon was high before they found a campsite that Elaith considered reasonably safe and defensible. While the elf and Balindar directed the care of horses and the making of camp, Danilo settled down by the campfire and removed the hard-won scroll of parchment from his magic bag. When Wyn Ashgrove saw what was in the Harper's hands, he hurried over, with Morgalla close on his heels.
"Open it!" the elf urged, impatience and excitement in his dark green eyes. "Perhaps it will reveal who enspelled the bards!"
Danilo shook his head and pointed to the blob of dark red wax sealing the scroll. "Many spell scrolls are protected. Breaking this seal could set off something lethal: a fireball, a mind-blank spell, an irate redhead…" Danilo illustrated the last possibility by tugging at one of the dwarf's long auburn braids, teasing the fierce warrior as if she were a favorite younger sister. Morgalla rolled her eyes skyward and tried not to look pleased.
"So now what, bard?" she asked.
"There are tiny runes pressed into the wax," Danilo said, holding the scroll close and squinting at it. "The writing itself isn't arcane, but that doesn't mean it's not a spell of some sort. I don't recognize the language."
"Let me see." Vartain strode over, extending one hand in a peremptory fashion. "Riddlemasters are of necessity students of linguistics and lore."
Danilo gave him the scroll. "Read it if you can, but don't disturb the seal," he said firmly. "I like to limit myself to one explosion a day."
The riddlemaster glanced at the runes. "This is a contrived dialect of middle Sespechian, a court language developed some three centuries past but long since fallen into disuse," he announced in dry, didactic tones. "Upon the death of the ruling Baron of Sespech, the baroness took a young consort from Turmish. The man was reputed to be handsome beyond compare, but lacking facility in language. This bastardized dialect of Sespechian, which every member of court was required to learn, was the queen's attempt to draw her new consort into the social and diplomatic concerns of court life."
"The nice thing about dwarves and elves," Morgalla interrupted plaintively, "is that generally we come to the point after an hour or two."
"The words on this seal appear to be a riddle, and its tide suggests that it is the key to the scroll," Vartain continued in a stiff tone. "Translated into the Common tongue, making the necessary allowances for rhyme and meter, it would read something like this:
"The beginning of eternity.