The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [107]
"My concern is this," concluded Arilyn. "Is it possible that the Mhaorkiira and the dream spheres might be linked?"
"Entirely possible," the archmage agreed. He was silent for a long moment. "For that reason, you must leave this business strictly alone."
"That is hard to do. If Elaith does have the kiira, he should be warned of the dangers involved," Danilo protested.
"He knows," Khelben said flatly. "The Mhaorkiira is legendary. Its involvement makes the cost of simply using a dream sphere incredibly high.
"There is more," the archmage added. "You must understand that this particular kiira has the power to twist the user to evil. I daresay your friend has already taken the first few turns along this path of his own accord."
"I agree," Arilyn said. "Mhaorkiira is incredibly dangerous in Elaith's hands. It could distort and destroy what little elven honor remains to him." She turned to Danilo, her face grave. "The pledge of Elf-friend is a pale thing compared to the power of this artifact. Whatever Elaith's game is, he would not thank you for meddling. I'll give you the same advice I gave Bronwyn: Stay clear of him. He must be dealt with, but not by those who are tempted to trust him."
Danilo hesitated, then yielded before the weight of evidence. "I will do as you say," he said with deep regret.
* * * * *
Danilo went from Blackstaff Tower to the small tavern where he often met with the Harpers once under his command. Hector was there at the appointed time, wearing a look of satisfaction on his narrow, much-freckled face.
"All went well, I take it," Danilo said as he slid into the wooden booth across from his comrade.
The small man nodded. "I've yet to see my sister, but that is of little concern. Cynthia said she'd wait out the night and the morning if needs be to convince any watching eyes that the woman was still in her room."
"Was our charge delivered safely to the orchard house?"
"Been and gone," Hector confirmed. "She didn't much take to the country, though. Set up a pretty steady flow of complaints, I hear. Our man set her up with horse and harness, and she rode off on her own." He shrugged. "They were glad to be rid of her, truth to tell. I saw no reason to argue with this arrangement. Figured she was safe enough, once she was well out of the city."
This did not sound at all like the warm and merry lass Danilo had met. A feeling of deep unease assailed him. "This woman. Describe her."
Hector let out a short, humorless laugh. "Promise first that you won't repeat the language I'm about to use to my wife, my mother, or my priest."
Danilo's concern deepened. "If her character is that distressing, focus on her person."
"An easy thing to do," the man allowed, "and the same rules of discretion apply. Gods help me, the shape of her! The only thing I ever saw that stood so high and proud with less to bolster it was that Moonbridge over in Silverymoon. She has a handsome face, though it takes a while for a man to drag his eyes up to that height. Eyes the color of winter stout in a clear mug. Hair like a dark cloud."
Danilo stood up so abruptly that the wooden bench toppled over. "Damn it, Hector, you took the wrong woman!"
A look of utter horror crossed the young Harper's face, a distress so profound that Danilo longed to explain the situation, to assure Hector this mistake was not his fault. That would have to wait.
He raced from the tavern and rode to the Dock Ward like one pursued by demons. He leaped from his horse and left the steed untethered in front of The Pickled Fisherman, then ran through the tavern and up the back stairs.
A half-ogre tavern guard shouted at him to stop and followed him up the stairs. The guard's progress was halted by the tip of Arilyn's sword. Holding the glowing weapon at arm's length, she stood at the head of the stairs and blocked the half-ogre's passage. Her face was set and grim, her lips in a pale, straight line.
"The moonblade drew me here," she said to Danilo, "but the warning came too late. Prepare yourself."
Her words