Oth hauled her to her feet. He stripped a ring from his finger and pressed it into her hand. "Take this. Show it to the seneschal of any of the Eltorchul estates and bid him handle the matter."
Isabeau took the proffered ring. "Will you see me safely on my way, my lord?" she asked in tentative tones.
The mage scoffed. "The thief has come and gone. What more can he take that you have not lost? Or eagerly given," he added in nasty insinuation.
She gasped in genuine outrage. "You are no gentleman!"
Oth sneered. "I will not gainsay you. How could I? Though you have not been long in Waterdeep, I dare say you have already sampled enough of my peers to be considered an expert in the matter."
Isabeau lunged for the oil lamp and hurled it at the mage. He stood his ground and made a short, sharp gesture with both hands. The lamp shattered in mid air and fell to the ground in a shower of glass shards and droplets of scented oil. Without another word, Oth turned and stalked from the room, leaving Isabeau shaking with rage.
And fear. And triumph and excitement blended in a sudden, wonderful, waterfall burst of relief.
The moment she was alone, Isabeau flung herself back onto the bed and opened her mouth in a long, silent scream of victory. She had done it! Oth's treasure was hers, and no suspicion would touch her!
She quickly finished dressing, then slipped down the back stairs and dived through a hidden exit in search of a man who could market these treasures for her and set her feet more firmly on the path that she had chosen.
* * * * *
When Oth Eltorchul came storming down into the tavern room of The Silken Sylph, Elaith was waiting for him.
"A carriage," the mage demanded of a serving maid, "and wine while I wait. One small goblet. Mark me, I do not wish to wait long."
Elaith caught the woman's eye and held up two fingers. She moved off to tend to the amended order. The elf rose and came over to the mage's table, sliding silently into the empty chair.
The mage studied him with ill-concealed distaste. "The tavern is nearly empty, elf. Surely you could find another seat."
Before Elaith could reply, a large, well-armed tavern guard stepped forward and nodded politely to Oth. He then leaned down and said confidingly, "Lord Craulnober can sit wherever he pleases. He owns this tavern, you see."
"Ah. I do indeed." Oth smiled thinly across the table at his host, who spread his hands in a parody of self-deprecation. "It would appear that I am your guest."
"A paying guest," Elaith said cordially, just so there would be no misunderstanding on the matter.
"Quite." The mage looked up when the servant brought a bottle of wine, and his face darkened when she placed two goblets on the table. "Won't you join me," he invited through gritted teeth.
"How very kind." Elaith took up the bottle and poured two generous portions of elven wine. Usually he would not waste the precious liquid on a human, but the light, almost floral taste of the wine masked a kick more powerful than that of an angry centaur.
Oth drank more deeply than prudence dictated. When the goblet was empty, he thunked it down on the table and glared at his host. "What manner of establishment do you run here, elf?"
Already his tone was fuzzy, lacking focus. Certainly his judgment was affected, for he would not otherwise dare to speak with such belligerence. Elaith let the insult pass for the moment.
"It is my desire that the service at The Silken Sylph be without peer. If you have reason for complaint, speak, and the matter will be set right."
Oth snorted and held out his goblet for a refill. "So easy, is it? What was taken from me cannot be replaced."
Elaith began to see the shape of things. He poured a second goblet and waited until the mage had drained it.
"Perhaps it could be recovered."
"Hmph," scoffed Oth, but without much conviction. His face went slack with despair, as long and morose as a pack mule's.
"If you were robbed during your stay, then the reputation—and the profitability—of this fine establishment is at risk. Confide in me," Elaith said earnestly, "and I will ensure by any means available to me that your loss is made right, and avenged, if you are so minded."
Oth peered at him with drunken cunning. "No small foe," he cautioned. "The treasure was stolen while I slept, despite wards I myself placed."
The elf carefully hid his surprise and anger. He had anticipated a tale that pointed to a misplaced belonging. Guests were more inclined to ascribe their losses to theft than to their own carelessness, but the inn should have been protected against a theft. If Eltorchul's tale were true, Elaith's servants would answer for it.
"Do not concern yourself over the finding or the foe. Only tell me what is missing, and I will carry on from there."
"Some coins, perhaps a hundred platinum," Oth said in a sly tone. Elaith suspected the amount was probably a third of that. "A few pieces of jewelry: a gold ring, an embossed wrist bracer, also of gold. A ruby necklace set in silver filigree, with ear drops and rings to match."
Elaith pricked up his ears. "A lady was with you? Where is she now?"
"Gone," Oth said shortly. "She was most unhappy about her loss."
"I can imagine," the elf murmured, making a note to find out the identity of this lady. "Was that the extent of your loss?"
The mage hesitated. Indecision waged battle on his face, then gave way before the potent persuasion of greed and elven wine. "There was more. Dream spheres, at least a score of them."
"Dream spheres," Elaith repeated.
"Small crystal orbs," Oth explained. "They hold magic. A single illusion, which is experienced as a vivid dream in which the dreamer places himself."
Elaith had heard rumors of the things for quite some time now. They were becoming quite popular among the city's servants and mercenaries. The tale Arilyn told had raised enormous possibilities in Elaith's mind and convinced him to track these new magical toys to their source.
"An ingenious notion. I imagine many in this city would pay a small fortune for such a thing."
"Would and do," Oth boasted. He leaned toward the elf. "You offered to help. Find them. Return them. I'll make it worth your while."
Elaith tamped down a surge of elation. This was more of a concession than he had expected from the mage. Perhaps he could do better still. He tilted his head to one side as if considering. "I could do that, of course."
Apparently Oth was not entirely overcome by elven wine. His sharp-featured face became wary. "But?"
The elf smiled apologetically. "I am in business. When confronted with the potential for great profit, should I be content with a simple reward? No matter how generous that might be," he added in a conciliatory tone.
Oth considered the matter, and a sly smile stole across his face. "I have heard of your business affairs. You are not overly hampered by respect for law."
"Laws are admirable things and are often quite convenient. Just as often, they are not."
"Quite." Oth suddenly made up his mind. "You find the dream spheres. I will supply you with others. You will find channels through which these might be sold—channels so convoluted that the sales could not be traced back to me. This can be done?"
"You would be surprised how much business is transacted in this city in just such a fashion," Elaith said, speaking for the first time with complete candor.
"Settled, then," the mage said. The decision made, he abandoned his struggle against the compelling lullaby the elven wine was singing in his veins. He rose unsteadily and looked about the tavern, his face wearing the expression of puzzled concentration as he tried to remember what he sought.
Elaith gestured to the serving girl. "Summon a carriage for Lord Eltorchul," he bade, "and pour him into it," he added in a voice too low for the human to hear.