The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [57]
"That's it." Arilyn rose to leave.
Dan placed a restraining hand on her sword arm. "You are remiss, Errya. This has nothing to do with Arilyn. Quite the contrary. Elves do not believe in disturbing the afterlife."
"She's here, isn't she?" demanded the young woman, leaning forward over the cat in her lap. "Oth is dead, isn't he?"
The cat wriggled and hissed a warning, which Errya ignored. Danilo rose to stand beside Arilyn, his eyes cold. "I understand that you are distraught, but take care whom you accuse."
Errya's lip curled. "Rest easy. The half-breed had nothing to do with it. Oth was killed because he had dealings with Elaith Craulnober. I know it!"
Her voice held a note of hysteria and reached a pitch that was painful to hear. Arilyn noted that the long-suffering tabby turned his ears back against the onslaught, and she wished she could do the same.
"What will be done about it?" Errya went on. "Nothing! Time was when outsiders were dealt with. Ask Alios Dezlentyr, if you doubt me, and-Damn!"
Her voice rose in a shriek of pain as the tabby nipped sharply at her hand. She hurled the cat across the room. The creature twisted in the air with feline grace and landed on his feet, tail lashing as he leveled a baleful stare at the woman. She tossed her head and turned back to the visitors.
"You've said what you came to say. As you can see, my father is overcome with grief. Leave the box with me and go."
Arilyn was only too glad to comply. As she stalked past the polite, empty suits of armor, she heard Danilo offer his condolences to the Eltorchul patriarch and promise to help find who killed his son. This "interference" sent Errya into a fit of shrieking, which finally pushed the old man beyond the edge of his composure. The mage began to weep in low, terrible sobs. Errya left him there, her slippers clicking an angry staccato as she went off after the cat who'd dared to nip at her, as if this insult far outweighed the loss of a brother and the grief of her aging father.
As the door shut on the noble folk of the Eltorchul clan, Arilyn was not certain whether the old mage's deepest regret was for the family he had lost or that which he still had to endure.
* * * * *
Each morning, a number of caravans mustered in the Court of the White Bull, an open area in the heart of South Ward. This was the working district of Waterdeep. Smoke rose from between the tightly packed buildings that surrounded the courtyard. The clang of metal upon metal resounded from the nearby forges, and the nervous lowing of cattle drifted from the stockyard. The cupping sound of hooves on hard packed earth heralded the passing of a dairymaid leading her cow. The warm, earthy scent of leather emanated from the saddlers' shop.
But such common things faded before the unusual sight that dominated the courtyard. Elaith Craulnober had been a merchant and an adventurer for over a century, and never had he seen a caravan as peculiar as this.
Servants bustled about rolling up the canvas tents that had shielded the caravan from the sudden downpour. The vast courtyard was alive with the rustle of giant wings, and the rumbling coos and roars and whinnies of scores of sky-going steeds. Several quartets of pegasi pawed the ground. Grooms wearing the Gundwynd crest fitted the winged horses with long, strong traces. Behind each team was attached a lightweight carriage fashioned without wheels or runners. On the north side of the courtyard, a line of griffons sat like brooding hens, their lionlike front paws tucked under their breast feathers. Enormous leather hoods masked their hawklike heads and kept them from flying too soon.
This typically human device sent a quick surge of anger through Elaith. Keeping a bird from flight was unconscionable, yet the humans did it all the time. They hooded their hunting falcons to keep them docile when they were not flying after game. They cropped the wings of their geese to keep them trapped on mill ponds. Some of