Silver Shadows - Elaine Cunningham [53]
After replacing the trapdoor, Arilyn stood and surveyed the many levels of the city laid out before her. The rooftops of Zazesspur offered a landscape of their own. Here were paths well-worn by the feet of those who did business in darkness. Although she had been in the city but a few months, Arilyn knew these pathways as well as most of Zazesspur's citizens knew the streets.
Between her and the soaring palace known as the Purple Minotaur lay a festhall, two taverns, the homes of several shopkeepers, the stables that served the posh inn, and the humble dwellings used for the servants and slaves who tended the pampered guests. With practiced ease, Arilyn made her way from rooftop to rooftop.
As she neared the Purple Minotaur, she glanced toward the upper floors of the inn and noticed that Danilo's window was flung open to admit the summer night's breeze-and possibly in the hope of an unexpected visit. Prom the open window wafted the gentle strains of a lute accompanying a well-trained tenor voice.
Arilyn's first response was relief. Danilo was yet safe. For a moment she paused to listen to the faint song and the carefree singer who seemed far removed from the sordid reality of the squalid streets.
For some reason, this solidified Arilyn's resolve. What she intended to do this night would not be easy, but it was a needed thing.
A sliver of new moon rose high into the sky as Arilyn crept across the roof of the Purple Minotaur, but its feeble tight was veiled by the thick sea mist that settled in with the coming of night. On the street far below, dim circles of light clung to the street lanterns, and faint light spilled from the windows of the festhalls and gambling parlors on the lower floors of the building. But where she trod, all was darkness. Danilo's chamber was only two floors down from the roof, a location chosen to allow Arilyn to make her infrequent visits with discretion.
Indeed, her slender figure was barely discernible against the dark sky. The pale skin of her face had been smudged with dark ointment, and she wore the garb of an assassin: leggings and a loose shirt of an indistinct dark hue that seemed to absorb shadow. In the mist-laden air her black curls clung to her head in damp tendrils, and her only ornament was the sash of pale gray silk at her waist.
Arilyn took a rope of spider silk from her pack and affixed one end firmly to the nearest chimney. She crept to the roofs edge and counted carefully down the rope's knotted length. Holding the rope firmly, she backed up, took a few running steps, and flung herself as far out into the darkness as she could.
As she dropped, she braced herself, accepted the jolting tug that came when the rope snapped taut. Then she swung like a pendulum toward the open window, shifting her weight a bit to adjust her course. At the last possible moment, she pulled up into a tight tuck.
The agile half-elf cleared the window. In one smooth move she released the rope and pulled a dagger from her boot, and then landed in a crouch. Her blue eyes swept the room, checking for danger. Satisfied that all was well, she stood and faced her Harper partner.
The young nobleman had apparently expected her, for he stood facing the window, a smile of welcome lighting his gray eyes and a goblet of elverquisst in each hand.
Arilyn had known Danilo Thann for almost three years now, but she had yet to reconcile herself to the disparity between his public persona and the man she had come to know. Few saw him as anything more than the youngest son of a Waterdhavian noble, a dandy and a dilettante who dabbled in magic and music. It took a keen ear to hear the artistry beneath the bawdy little ballads he composed, a sharp eye to note the ease with which he tossed off his "miscast" spells. But few people were inclined to seek deeply, and as a handsome charmer blessed with a noble's rank and a merchant's heavy purse, Danilo was welcomed in circles that a half-elven assassin could not hope to enter. Although Arilyn recognized the worth of this disguise,