Elminster Must Die_ The Sage of Shadowdale - Ed Greenwood [124]
“Lady, your every command is my fond wish!”
“Really? How is it that you’re still alive, then?”
“Amarune Whitewave, you’re snarling!”
“Mask dancers snarl all the time, Lord Delcastle. Want to know what else we can do?”
“Lady, I thought you’d never be so bold! Of course I—”
“Of course you do,” Amarune said with the most withering sarcasm she could muster as she turned a familiar corner and headed into an even more familiar midyard that … seemed to be swarming with Purple Dragons.
Several of those officers were already giving them hard stares, and—gods above!—there were Dragons searching every alley, balcony, and outside stair in sight. There were even Dragons up on her roof.
Not to mention a large, grim cluster of them standing over … no. Oh, no.
A Purple Dragon moved to intercept them, two of his fellows walking to where they could surround the two. “Your names, and business here?”
“I am Lord Arclath Delcastle,” the nobleman snapped pointedly, “and I am escorting this lady to her home, by order of a Watch officer of the Purple Dragons. And yours?”
“My what?”
“Your name, soldier.”
“I’ll ask the questions here for now, my lord. You can have my name for your inevitable complaint later. Now, which officer would it be who gave you this or—”
“He’s telling truth, Randelo,” a gravelly man’s voice said rather sullenly from behind Amarune. “I can vouch for their whereabouts and deeds—seeing as they’ve been leading me all over Suzail for half the night.” It was the Dragon who’d been following them since their departure from the club.
He was giving the young couple a rather baleful glance as he added, “Stlarning boots hurt worse’n ever. Shouldn’t wonder if they’re full of blood down by my toes, right now.”
“Ah, the price of shining service,” Arclath remarked. Turning back to their questioner, he said with dignity, “Seeing as we’ve just been cleared of any involvement in this unfortunate, ah, death, please withdraw from us a pace or two, so as to accord us some small measure of privacy. This is a lady of high moral standing, despite what you may think—for I have found that far too many Purple Dragons have low, coarse minds—and I have no intention of damaging her reputation by entering her domicile at this time of night.”
That little speech earned him an eloquent eye roll and a mockingly elaborate bow from both Dragons, but they did withdraw, muttering together.
Arclath pointedly turned his back on them, shielding Amarune from their scrutiny with his broad shoulders, and murmured, “So, would you like me to leave you here, Lady, with a suspicious death—almost undoubtedly a murder—hard by wherever you live, but with the dubious safety of Purple Dragons very much in evidence everywhere? Or—?”
“Or yield myself to your tender mercies in your noble mansion?”
“I do have some measure of honor, Lady,” Delcastle murmured, almost sadly.
They regarded each other in sober, unsmiling silence for a breath or two, before Amarune almost whispered, “Lord Delcastle, did you hear what the wizard called me?”
“The Silent Shadow? I had dismissed that from my mind. A wild, baseless accusation, that—”
“No,” Amarune said firmly, suddenly finding she did not want to lie to this man. “No, it’s not. I am the Silent Shadow, though my silence has been the quiet of inaction this past season.”
She gave him a glare, suddenly defiant. “So, are you going to denounce me to yon Dragons? See me flogged, stripped of every last coin, and jailed? There’ll be nobles enough wanting my blood, to be sure, and—”
“And I am not one of them,” Arclath interrupted smoothly. “Putting one over on my fellow highborn is what I do, whenever possible. I might add that occasionally I indulge in undertakings of low moral character myself … and I find that this is one of those times.”
He lifted a finger, almost as if he was a pompously lecturing tutor, and spoke even more softly. “So I’ll keep your secret, but in return I demand a price, Lady. No, don’t look at me like that; my price is one truthful answer, no more. Tell me plainly,