The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [45]
Arilyn shifted impatiently from one foot to the other as she waited for Danilo to finish the transaction. After a few more questions, he flipped the man a second coin, and they walked together into the street.
"Isabeau hated Elaith. She was with Oth," Arilyn pointed out. "As far as tren attacks go, that's two out of three."
"And you the third. Why?"
She thought back to Isabeau's rescue and the vicious resistance that the tavern pickpocket had waged when Arilyn had caught up to her outside the gnomish stronghold. "Once Isabeau realized what was awaiting her in Waterdeep, she was in favor of rescue, but getting to that point was like reasoning with a mule. Sometimes you have to hit it over the head with a stick to get its attention."
"Ah. Knowing Isabeau, I'm guessing you had to use a fairly big stick."
"You could say that. It's possible that she's holding a grudge. There's more." She hesitated a moment, not wanting to give words to what seemed incomprehensible behavior. "You didn't seek her out on the trip to Waterdeep. I don't think she's accustomed to being ignored. Since she's not one to blame herself for much of anything, I wouldn't be surprised if she has a grudge on that score. Creating trouble for me would balance the scales for your inattention."
Danilo looked coldly furious. "I am beginning to regret the pledge I took from Elaith for Isabeau's safety. Speaking of whom, we'd better see him at once-provided I can remember which of his properties he currently inhabits!"
He hailed a passing carriage. The crest of the Carriage Guild was painted on the door, marking it as available for hire-as did the presence of its halfling crew. The stout little driver tilted his plumed cap and pulled the horses to a halt. A second halfling scrambled down from the coachman's seat and opened the door, smiling expectantly up at Arilyn.
Too tired to argue, she climbed in and settled back against the plush seat. With a jerk, the carriage took off toward the south to seek out whatever rock the elven snake happened to be sunning himself on this particular morning.
* * * * *
Elaith Craulnober was not in good humor. He was never so when going over his account books. The numbers therein would have sent many a merchant lord dancing giddily into the streets, and in truth Elaith was not unhappy with the results of his recent ventures in Skullport. It was the ciphering itself that he loathed.
A pity he could not trust another to tend such matters for him. There were scribes, of course, and men who wrote up bills of sale and tallied the day's transaction. There were other men who collected this information and passed it along to their superiors, who in turn passed it along. Groups of men, some small, some numbering in scores, tended Elaith's vast concerns, but each group was like a single room with windows and doors to the outside word-and none at all to the corridors that led to those other rooms. Only Elaith knew the whole of his empire.
The small brass bell suspended above his door chimed musically. Almost glad for the interruption, Elaith tugged at the embroidered bellpull to grant permission for audience.
The door opened soundlessly. Just as quiet was the elderly elven servant who glided up to Elaith's desk and offered a small, silver tray.
Elaith glanced at the engraved card and smiled faintly. Young Lord Thann had come calling, no doubt with a bottle of elven wine and an apology that would be peppered with foolish anecdotes-but no less sincere for all that.