Elfsong - Elaine Cunningham [86]
"The next of the barding colleges is in Waterdeep. I know of no such site," Vartain said, looking up at last.
"The school was called Ollamn. There is no barding college now, but as you know most people involved in the bardic arts register at Halambar's Lute Shop. Halambar is the master of the musicians' guild, and this practice gives local and visiting bards a service once provided by the college. What will happen in Waterdeep?"
"According to the riddle, a lord will fall on the field of triumph, on a day that is not a day."
Morgalla emerged from the rock cluster, clad in green silk. The shirt hung past her knees, and she'd girded it at the waist with the sash and the gold and peridot pin. With her damp, unbraided auburn hair curling about her face and her feet bare, she looked a bit like a very stocky wood nymph.
"You look lovely, my dear," Danilo said solemnly, and the circle of mercenaries nodded in avid agreement.
"I have a question," the unimpressed Vartain broke in. "Waterdeep is a big town."
"That's a question?"
"Enough, Lord Thann!" the riddlemaster snapped. "I am not a man who appreciates levity. During the Midsummer Faire, every traveling entertainer in the north heads for the city. I'm assuming that the sorceress will not flaunt her asperii, and nearly every singer in Waterdeep has a harp of some sort, so how are we to recognize her?"
"Midsummer Faire," Danilo repeated in a distracted voice."
"The lord falls on a field of triumph, on a day that is not a day…'" The Harper smacked his forehead with the flat of his hand. "Shieldmeet. That's it!"
Vartain nodded, his black eyes shining as he followed the Harper's logic. "Your reasoning is sound. Shieldmeet is not part of any mooncycle, or counted as a day in the roll of the years. It is a day that is not a day."
"Am I missing something important?" Morgalla asked.
"Shieldmeet is an extra day that occurs once every four years, right after Midsummer. After the tournaments of Midsummer Day, contracts are renewed, betrothals announced, allegiances sworn. Even the Lords of Water-deep are reaffirmed every four years," Vartain explained.
"Maybe, maybe not," Danilo added. "You notice that each of these curses has been brought to bear on Water-deep. Between crop failures and monster attacks on merchant caravans, Midsummer Faire will be a rather dismal event. A storm on Midsummer Day will play into the people's fears and superstitions, and a bard who can influence crowds might be able to convince them that the Lords of Waterdeep are no longer able to govern. Rightly done, it could be a near-bloodless coup!"
"But why fuss around with Harpers and dragons? What do the Lords of Waterdeep have to do with a bunch o' bards?"
"Enough," Danilo said succinctly. "The two groups work together. Bardcraft and politics are intrinsically enjoined. We must leave for Waterdeep at once! Where is Wyn?"
"Here." The elf minstrel called, striding quickly down the hilltop holding the leading reins of three horses. The elven hermit followed close by Wyn's side. "We recovered only three horses, but I found my lyre of changing."
At that moment Elaith crested the hill behind Wyn at a run. "Then use it!" he shouted as he dashed toward the others. "A flock of harpies, coming from the north!"
Eleven
Wyn shaded his eyes against the sun and scanned the skies. As Elaith had said, far to the north were several dark shapes. The minstrel looked helplessly at Danilo. "There are no harpies on Evermeet. I've learned no spellsong to combat them!" Danilo patted the sword at his right side. "Not to worry. I carry a singing sword whose music will negate the effect of the harpies' song. This shouldn't be any more difficult than fighting any other flying monster. Teeth, talons, that