The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [74]
Elaith's gaze swept the valley, setting up the battlefield in his mind's eye. That he would have to fight, he did not doubt. The caravan guards might not fight to protect Bronwyn's safety and virtue, but they would not allow her to be robbed by a rogue elf. Elaith could possibly expect assistance from the elves in the caravan, but that was a last resort. Already he regretted confiding in the Gundwynd grooms. The more elves who learned that the Mhaorkiira had been found, the lower his chance of keeping the gem until its task was done.
His eye caught a bit of color and movement near the waterfall, where there should be neither-several feet from the ground, in what appeared to be sheer rock. Elaith understood at once what that meant. The northland hills were riddled with caves and passages. The elf peered closer, squinting so that his vision would pick up not the fading daylight, but heat patterns.
In the forest, almost indiscernible even to such eyes as his, were several telling patterns. He made out a group of men crouched near the mouth of a small cave, looking like hunting cats awaiting a chance to spring. Others waited on ledges and behind trees, draped in capes dyed to match stone and stump.
The caravan-his quarry-was about to land in the midst of an ambush.
Eight
The mansion belonging to the Dezlentyr family was among the more modest structures of the North Ward. A pair of massive elms flanked the iron gate, and the house beyond was small and graceful, crafted from stone and oddly shaped timbers in such fashion that it appeared to have grown there. It was unique in this human city devoted to excess and splendor, and it reminded Arilyn of the homes common in faraway Evereska-a community of moon elves who hunted the forests and guarded the secrets of the Greycloak Hills.
For a moment homesickness assailed her, though it had been many years since she had left the Greycloak Hills as an orphaned girl. There was no place for her there now. Nor, she reminded herself firmly, was there much of a future for her in Waterdeep, unless she could resolve the problem at hand.
The last three days had yielded nothing but frustration. Lord Eltorchul had sent a message asking her and Danilo to hold secret the news of Oth's death while the family came to a decision concerning possible resurrection. Honoring that request made it virtually impossible for Arilyn to ask the sort of questions that required answers. Isabeau Thione had run to ground. Bronwyn had yet to return from her trip to Silverymoon. Dan had gone to the libraries of Candlekeep and was deep in a study of the history of moonblades in hope of finding something that might explain the continuing capriciousness of her sword's magic.
Arilyn, who was running exceedingly low on patience, had decided to search for answers in the past.
She gave word of her errand to the Dezlentyr guard. In a few moments the gates opened, and a young servant came to meet her. He was roughly clad in tunic, breeches, and well-worn boots, but he was nonetheless a strikingly handsome male-tall, golden, and so fine of feature that he would be considered beautiful but for his sun-browned skin and a slightly raffish stubble of beard. He gave the impression of a prince playing at peasant. As he drew near, Arilyn noted that he was half-elven.
Not a servant, realized Arilyn, but Corinn, the Dezlentyr heir. Half-elves were not common in this city, and he and his twin sister were unique among their noble peers.
His eyes lit up as he regarded her, and he called her name and held out his hand for a comrade's salute. "We met some time ago, at one of Galinda Raventree's parties," he recalled, then flashed a brilliant smile. "Good to see you again, under better circumstances!"
Arilyn appreciated his point, and she clasped his wrist briefly. "I hope you'll still think so after you hear me out. I wish to talk to your father. Tell me if this tale will