Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [26]
She got a firm grip on her emotions and quickly reviewed what little she did know of the moonblade. Nine people, including herself, had wielded the moon-blade since its forging in ancient Myth Drannor, and each had added a magical power to the sword. Although Arilyn knew what these powers were, she could not match each one to a rune, or each rune to the elf with whom it had originated. She did not know the name of the elf woman who slept here, but perhaps the answer to this could be found in the glass that entombed her.
Most humans did not realize that glass was not a solid object, but rather an extremely viscous liquid. Its flow was too slow to be measured, much less noticed, in a human's lifetime. After many years, a pane of glass thickened near the base as the slowly flowing substance settled at the lowest point. Elves knew that in time, all windows would open-from the top. The problem was how to measure this flow without actually breaking the glass. This Arilyn did not wish to do, for fear of disturbing the elf woman's unnatural slumber.
But as she examined the coffin, she realized that this was not a concern. The glass lid was not sealed, but rather hinged on one side. And a long, meandering crack had already begun working its way downward from the top of the low-rising dome. Arilyn pulled a knife from her sash and rapped the hilt sharply along the crack, then again not far away. A second fissure rippled through the glass, and a curved shard fell onto the sleeping elf. Arilyn carefully lifted the lid and picked up the shard. She measured it with a bit of twine, then broke off a piece from each end. These she wrapped securely and tucked into her bag. Tinkersdam could probably estimate the age of the glass with a quick glance. That done, she turned one last searching gaze upon her ancestor.
The elf was much smaller than Arilyn, with finer features and more delicate bones. Her long-fingered hands lay at her sides, palms facing up. The Harper noted that the elf had the deeply callused fingers and palm of a swordmaster-but only on the left hand. This told her the elf had likely been an early wielder, before the moonblade had acquired the speed- and power-enhanced strike that demanded a two-handed grip.
Outrage, cold and deep, filled the Harper as she slowly lowered the glass lid. It was not right for the noble elf woman to be part of some rich man's "collection," displayed as if she were just one more curious and beautiful object!
It would not always be so, Arilyn vowed as she slipped from the treasure rooms. She would return, and she would take the moonblade's unknown wielder away to a more fitting rest. But'tьis was not something she could do now, or alone.
Setting her jaw in a grim line, the Harper made her way back to the well and dove in.
The dwarf, it seemed, had been busy. The split and emptied shells of two giant crustaceans swirled through the churning water, and the contents had been hacked into bits the size of finger food. The surviving creatures were hi a feeding frenzy and, by the look of things, would continue to eat well for days to come.
A glow of lingering heat drew Arilyn's eye toward the bottom of the pool. There, its translucent carapace bulging and heaving with some internal conflict, was the largest-shelled monster Arilyn had yet seen, one large enough-and stupid enough-to swallow a live dwarf. The creature would have already died for its mistake had the dwarf not dropped his new dagger in the struggle. The Harper caught a glimpse of the jeweled weapon, which skittered about like a frantic squirrel as the crustacean's many feet kicked it this way and that.
Arilyn pulled her knife from her sash and dove deeper. The monster did not notice her approach, for