The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [86]
The remnants of a feast lay scattered on the long table and littered the garden floor. Hounds gnawed at discarded bones, and serving girls cleared away the empty trenchers. A few women-and a couple of handsome youths-had been hired for other tasks. Some were draped across the mercenaries' laps, while others had quit the table entirely for the relative privacy of alcoves once tended by careful elven hands.
"Enough," snapped Elaith as he strode up to the table. The mercenaries stood like puppets pulled by a single string, some of them spilling their hired companions to the ground along with other discarded memories of their revelry.
This did not seem to bother the escorts. They gathered up their scattered belongings and the threadbare remnants of their dignity and slipped through the garden gate.
The largest of his captains-a woman of the Northlands with hair the color of flame and various passions of similar hue-cast a wistful look toward the departing youth. Elaith settled his ire upon her.
"You, Hildagriff. Your report."
The woman hauled in her attention. "This from Castle Ward: Balthorr acquired the big ruby. He wants six hundred gold."
This was the news Elaith had been waiting to hear. The dream spheres he had already located, and the kiira gem was the last, vital part of Oth Eltorchul's scheme. The elf gave no sign of the importance of this intelligence, but he rushed his other captains through their reports and sent them on their way.
As soon as he was alone, he set a swift course to the fence Hildagriff had named. This was a task too important to entrust to an underling. No one else could be trusted to handle the Mhaorkiira, the dark gem.
Later that day, Elaith was not certain that he himself could handle the elven gem. It was a beautiful thing-far surpassing the images his mind had painted of it. Its color was clear and flawless, and it had been perfectly cut and faceted to catch light. The kiira was a marvel of elven gemcraft. And elven magic.
He was disturbed by the dark, compelling power in the stone. Not even the dire legends he had heard from his boyhood fully prepared him for the impact of the Mhaorkiira Hadryad. This stone had twisted and ultimately destroyed an ancient elven clan. Only the last-born, a mage of such utter evil that he might as well have been an orc or a drow or other such abomination, could bend it fully to his will. The gem had been found several times since then, but always slipped back into oblivion with the destruction of the elf who dared to take it up. This was an enormous gamble. Elaith knew he was quite literally putting his life on the line. Was it truly so important that he know his own deepest measure?
"You want it, or don't you?" Balthorr had asked, seeing his reluctance. "I could sell it easy if you don't. Two, three people looked at it this afternoon."
That had interested Elaith. "Any make an offer?"
"No," the fence had admitted, and Elaith had let the matter go.
The kiira was his. The gem settled into his hand with an inaudible sigh of contentment, as if it had found its proper owner at last. At that moment Elaith's hope died, his heart turned to stone. He had his answer. Nothing elven remained to him but the Mhaorkiira. That would have to be enough-that, and the power it would give him.
So be it. He left the gem in his most secure property, then hurried toward the Dock Ward to meet his waiting contacts. A second group would have gathered by now, brought in through the tunnel that ran between the tower and a nearby warehouse. The members of the two groups would not know each other if they passed on the street. Such precautions, he had learned many long years ago, were necessary to those who lived as he did.
He slipped into the warehouse and made his way through the labyrinth of aisles that wove among the high-stacked crates. Without warning, the pile ahead collapsed, crashing down to seal off the passage.
Elaith spun in a