The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [62]
For some reason, the compliment made Kail wince. "What little talent I have comes from my father, and his father before." He grinned. "I'd rather you praised me on my skill with a sword, which you rarely do."
Oh, but I disagree. You make a fine adventurer-a talent inherited from your mother, no doubt, Cesira remarked lightly, waving and smiling at a lady across the room.
Kail sighed, thinking it wiser to ignore the path the conver-sation was taking. "Where is Rays?"
Cesira pointed across the ballroom to where a man swayed drunkenly against one of the matble statues. He used the brief loss of dignity to make lewd pantomimes with the statue and his body, much to the horror of a group of passing ladies.
The Bladesmiles are among the most powerful and respected families in Keczulla and greater Amn. Why does this one play the fool? Cesira asked absently.
"His wife died," Kali said, drawing the druid's gaze and a noise of sympathy. "A year ago. He cares nothing for status and position now."
Then perhaps Lord Rays has more wisdom than us all. Cesira watched Kail cross the ballroom, weaving purposely among his guests, on to the next stage of his plan.
Suddenly uneasy and feeling eyes upon her, Cesira looked up at the balcony and met the clear blue gaze of Syrek Dantane.
CHAPTER 18
Keczulla, Amn 3 Marpenoth, the Year
of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
Dantane inclined his head respectfully to the druid. Her eyes registered surprise, but she concealed it quickly. So Morel hadn't told her he was here. Dantane wondered why. If Morel distrusted him so thoroughly, wouldn't he wish to have the eyes of those he did ttust tracking him constantly?
The wizard took a step toward the stairs, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as silent magical wards hummed. The spell was not powerful, but the relative lack of magic in the room made it seem stronger-akin to tolling a bell in a tomb. Had this been a gala in Waterdeep, the resonant hum would have been lost in the greater cacophony of minor cantrips and protective spells.
Dantane looked to the dais. A young woman had stepped forward with a lute. She sang in a deep, pleasing alto, an unremarkable song, but she livened up the show by pausing in the middle of a verse to tell bawdy jokes or humorous stories, always deftly picking up the tune exactly where she'd left off. The crowd gathered, laughing, at the edge of the dais to listen.
Dantane's eyes fixed on the lute. The bard's instrument, or something inside it, was the source of the magic-an illusion, possibly glamour to conceal some defect on the patt of the singer. Dantane scanned the crowd for Morel, wondering if he should inform the young lord.
When Dantane spied him, Kail was still speaking to the drunken man. The wizard headed for the stairs, but halted when he saw Kail's face blanch. Dantane traced the room, seeking a threat, but Morel simply stood, as frozen as one of the statues, staring at a spot beneath the balcony. He said something to the drunkard and stepped away.
Fascinated, Dantane watched him walk across the ballroom like a man caught sleepwalking out of a dream. Whatever Morel saw disturbed him greatly, Dantane thought. He couldn't describe all the emotions that passed ovet Kail's face, but the still, ravaged look, the vulnerability-that interested Dantane, so much so he forgot the lute player and her song.
"Seven-there it is!" The serving table quivered as Morgan slammed his handful of emerald-stone clusters in front of Laerin. "That you can't beat."
The half-elf flashed him a lazy smile. "Datling, must we compete? It's unseemly."
Morgan turned purple, clenching his fists as if he might. cram the stones down Laerin's throat. "Empty yout pockets. Turn em out, or by the gods I'll do it for you!"
Laerin fluttered his lashes. "Now you're just being saucy."
Morgan took a step forward, reaching for a weapon.
"Oh, all right." The half-elf sighed and emptied a pouch of stones next to Morgan's pile.