"A dangerous one," he said sternly, sounding more like Khelben Arunsun than Arilyn would have thought possible. She debated whether to remark on this and decided to keep this observation on hand for a later time. It was always wise to have a hidden weapon or two.
After a few words about the risks of taking magic lightly, Danilo quickly explained the arrangements. Two Harpers, Hector and Cynthia, would come to the tavern toward the end of the late shift. Hector would bring a small covered cart to the back alley, and Cynthia would slip up to Lilly's room. The two women were to change clothes, and Cynthia would stay in Lilly's place. Hector would take Lilly to the North Gate and place her in the charge of a discreet caravan master, who would give her passage to an orchard village outside the city. From there, it was westward to Suzail along with the new-pressed cider. At each step, Lilly would be supplied with coin and lodging. A substantial sum would await her in Suzail, enough to get her started in a new life of her choosing.
Lilly's eyes swam as she listened to Danilo's words. "This is your doing, not your father's. I'd wager my life on that," she said softly. A long moment passed, and she added, "It's more than I'd dare hope for, but for all that, I'll be sad to go."
"It is hard to leave home and family," Danilo agreed.
A wave of sympathy swept through Arilyn as she realized the pain these unwitting words would bring.
The girl's tears spilled over. She quickly dashed them away with the back of one hand and gave a shaky smile. "Aye, that it is."
As they rose to leave, Lilly dipped a curtsey to Dan and then held both hands out to Arilyn. It was a common form of leave-taking among women of the working class, a simple statement that the recipient was valued enough to warrant putting aside work entirely, if but for the moment. Arilyn understood the gesture for what it was: the only claim to sisterhood that Lilly would make.
On rare impulse, the warrior went one better. She gently pushed aside Lilly's offered hands and took the younger woman in a sister's embrace.
"The strength of Corellon, the beauty of Hanali, the joy of Aerali," she said softly, speaking the traditional elven blessing in the language of their foremothers.
Lilly pulled away and managed a smile. "Many's the year since I heard those words. The same to you, lass, though I've more respect for the music of the thing than to wrap my caterwauling tongue around it. Now, off with you both, before Hamish misunderstands the nature of this visit and tries to charge you rent by the hour." She made little shooing gestures with her hands, as if herding recalcitrant chickens.
They shooed, walking down the creaky back stairs and into the alley beyond, where Danilo attacked the problem at hand with unusual vigor. He wanted Arilyn's opinion on the best spot for the cart to wait, her assessment of possible ambush spots, and what they should do to ascertain whether or not additional Watch guards were needed. With an attention to detail that would not have been out of place in King Azoun's court, they went over the small escape.
When that was settled, Danilo's supply of words ran uncharacteristically dry. They walked together in silence, and the young bard's expression was unusually pensive. Arilyn began to doubt whether Danilo was as oblivious to Lilly's identity as he had seemed. After a time the half-elf's curiosity overflowed.
"Does Lady Cassandra know about Lilly?"
He looked startled. "I for one do not intend to apprise her! If Lord Rhammas wishes to confess his mistresses, he must tend to the matter himself."
"It's a bit late for that," Arilyn said dryly. When Danilo sent her a puzzled look, she shook her head in astonishment and dug in her bag for the tiny bronze mirror she carried. This she thrust before Danilo's face.
"Take a good look, and try to remember where you last saw those features. I'm thinking that you—and your sister—both managed to get a bit of elven blood from your various mothers, but you both got your father's eyes."
His puzzled expression froze, then he nodded slowly as he understood the truth of it. "Of course. I should have seen it. Perhaps I did—Lilly is a merry lass, and I liked her upon first meeting. She was serving at the Gemstone Ball," he explained. Sudden anger flashed into his eyes. "She was serving in her own father's house! How could Rhammas countenance such an insult to his child?"
"Perhaps he didn't know. You only learned of it just now."
"There is that," Danilo admitted. A faint smile crept onto his lips as he pondered this revelation. "A sister. How marvelous. You would think I had enough siblings that the novelty would have worn off, wouldn't you?"
"She needs you. The others don't," Arilyn pointed out.
Danilo looked surprised, then pleased. "That is so." He considered the matter and then cast a sidelong glance at her. "What would you say about wintering in Suzail? It is close to Cormanthyr. If the sages are right about a harsh winter to come, there will be the usual attempts to reduce the borders of the elven forest to firewood. Chances are, you'll be heading that way, anyway."
"True enough."
"It's settled, then," he said happily, taking her comment as assent.
Arilyn listened as he chatted on, full of plans for their time together and the life they would help his new-found sister build. It sounded so easy and hopeful that she could almost believe it might come true.
She glanced at the moonblade, almost afraid that it would be aglow with warning light or humming with silent energy. However, the elven sword was silent, as if content at last to reflect Danilo's high spirits and bright hopes.
Eleven
Midnight had not yet come, and already Danilo had borne witness to the death of some twenty barrels of wine and the subsequent birth of two new betrothals, a dozen covert business deals, and three challenges to duels scheduled to be fought upon the morrow. By these measures, Galinda Raventree's annual costume ball was its usual success.
Of course, there was the buzz created by Haedrak's arrival. A city obsessed with nobility could not resist the lure of the young man's claim to royalty. For many years, it had been common belief the royal house of Tethyr had been obliterated in the terrible wars. A few minor relatives survived, and from time to time one made a dubious claim, but Haedrak arrived in Waterdeep with unassailable credentials, not the least of which was the support of Elminster the Sage and the bard Storm Silverhand. Haedrak had expressed a desire to unite with Zaranda, the mage turned mercenary who had recently been acclaimed queen of the city of Zazesspur, and to join with her in uniting all of Tethyr. He was in Waterdeep gathering support for the Tethyr Reclamation from the wealthy, the bored, and the adventurous.
Danilo supposed Haedrak would do well enough. A dark, thin man with a serious face and a small pointed black beard, he looked more like a scribe than a warrior, but Waterdeep, enamored as she was by royalty, would no doubt flock to his banner. It was almost amusing how the nobles tripped over each other in their eagerness to be seen in Haedrak's shadow.
The most entertaining spectacle, in Dan's opinion, was Arilyn's participation in this frivolous event. The shopkeeper who'd supplied them both with costumes had outfitted Arilyn as Titania, the legendary queen of the faerie realm.
This had proven nothing less than inspired, for it built upon the half-elf's fey heritage, transforming her from somber warrior to a creature of heart-stopping beauty. The costume was a marvel of translucent wings and floating, glimmering silvery skirts, but the shopkeeper had not stopped there. She had dressed Arilyn's black hair in clusters of ringlets dusted with silvery glitter. The half-elf's eyes were remarkable to begin with—a deep vivid blue flecked with gold—but cosmetics made them appear enormous, exotically tilted at the outer corners, and startlingly blue against her white skin. Her face had been buffed with some iridescent powder, and it glowed like moonstone in the soft candlelight. In all, Danilo congratulated himself on having had the good sense to lose his heart to this marvelous woman years ago before the general rush began.
That was the second source of his private entertainment. More than a few of Danilo's peers had started to pay court to the apparent faerie queen, only to reconsider the notion when the half-elf turned upon them a flat, level gaze more appropriate to a battlefield than a ballroom. Faced with a forbidding Arilyn, even the most intrepid or inebriated man suddenly remembered pressing business on the far side of the hall.
This amused Danilo to no end. He supposed that evinced some serious character deficit, but he saw no immediate cure for it. He had always enjoyed Arilyn from their unpromising beginning to the complicated present, and he could not get out of the habit. He gave a nod of mock sympathy to the latest of her spurned suitors, then flicked a nonexistent bit of lint from the ruffle at his cuff.
"You're looking smug," remarked Regnet Amcathra.
Danilo's pleasure in the evening deepened as he turned to face his longtime friend. "Why should I not? Winning that lady's regard was no small accomplishment. I like to think that sterling personal qualities, which admittedly are well hidden, enabled me to accomplish this feat."
The nobleman chuckled. His amusement stopped abruptly as two men disguised as a centaur thundered past in pursuit of a coyly fleeing nymph.
Danilo studied the strange tableau. The centaur's head was undoubtedly that of Simon Ilzimmer, a black-bearded, broad-chested mage who looked so positively saturnine that Danilo would not have wagered whether or not the hoofs he sported were genuine.
The back end of the centaur was not quite as motivated toward pursuit, but he stumbled gamely along. Not nimbly enough, however, and the costume's fabric tore as the "creature" broke in half. Simon, nothing daunted, pounded off in pursuit of the nymph. The centaur's anonymous rump, a role undoubtedly played by a servant or possibly a family member of lesser rank and lighter purse, took a few staggering steps in pursuit of unity. He quickly abandoned the quest and went off in search of a full mug, apparently not overly concerned by the statement his partial costume made.
Regnet shook his head in disgust. "After that spectacle, I am almost inclined to believe what they are saying about the Ilzimmer clan."
It was on the tip of Danilo's tongue to ask what that might be, but it occurred to him that if he did, Regnet would probably tell him. Dan and Arilyn had attended this evening's affair for the express purpose of gathering information, but he saw little profit in the sort of salacious talk that Simon Ilzimmer inspired.
"Shame on you for spreading such tales! You have been spending too much time with Myrna," Danilo pointed out.
His friend heaved a heartfelt sigh. "On that, we are in accord. Speaking of the lady, she appears to be searching the crowd for me. You will excuse me while I run shrieking into the streets."
"Certainly," Dan replied. "I would offer to detain her, but the bonds of friendship go only so far."
Regnet snorted with good-natured scorn. "Don't worry, I wouldn't do it for you, either. Farewell, coward."
Dan chuckled and turned back to survey the scene before him. He was truly of no mind for festivities, but this would be one of his last chances to study the peerage for signs of enmity deep enough to inspire Oth's assassination. All of Waterdeep society gathered for the costume ball, which was one of the last large parties before many of the merchant nobility left for their country estates or southern villas. It was one of the most lavish affairs of the season, and one of Danilo's favorites.
At least, it had been until this year. Usually he enjoyed the pageantry and silly excess, but this year there seemed to be a decidedly sylvan flavor to the costumes. In addition to the usual pirates, orcs, Moonshae druids, drow, and such like, there were an inordinate number of revelers dressed as forest elves.
Even Myrna Cassalanter picked up this theme—if only as an excuse to bare vast expanses of the creamy skin that was her best feature. Nearly every exposed inch of the woman was decorated with the swirling brown and green designs that represented some artist's conception of what wild elf tattoos must look like. Myrna had taken the notion of wild greenwood hunters a bit too far, perhaps. She had woven peacock feathers into her bright red hair and hung a necklace of porcelain beads shaped like dragons' teeth around her neck.
All these imitation forest elves served to tweak at Danilo's more painful ruminations. Arilyn's response had been utterly unexpected and no help at all. She had taken one glance at Myrna and excused herself from the room. Danilo had found her in the cloakroom, clutching her sides and rocking with silent laughter.
"Not authentic, I take it," Danilo had observed.