drive Karion mad,” she said.
“Then let it go,” he counseled her.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’ve failed Montimort today. How can I fail the others?”
“How will it aid them, to gain a crown?”
She shook her head and gestured with the sword. “Put it down.”
“When you tell me one thing: Whose head will wear a crown in Neverwinter? Yours?”
“No!” Her denial was vehement and instant. “I never wanted such a thing.”
“Arlon?”
She flung her hands wide, as if she had been hit in a practice duel at her school. “He is not ready to rule.”
“Well, if you mean to give it to Lord Neverember,” Sarfael said with a sudden smile, “then I think the problem is already solved.”
Elyne swung her sword, but not at him. She sliced through one of the tapestries and cut it down, just as Arlon might pound his fist on the table.
“Ah,” she cried, “what should I do?”
“Watch it burn,” said Sarfael, and he threw the box into the flames.
The fire consumed it quickly, but they stood together, watching silently until it was completely gone.
Out on the street, Elyne walked at his side. Without talking, they automatically took the turns leading back to her school for elegant fighting.
“I never learned how or why you came to Neverwinter,” she finally said to him.
Sarfael lifted one eyebrow. “Didn’t I tell you some story or other?”
“You told me several. I am fairly certain that none of them are true.”
“Only fairly certain?”
She frowned at him, but not too severely.
“Well, once I had a student, who ended up teaching me a trick or two. And that led me to some very interesting encounters.” He paused for a moment but all he heard was Elyne’s quick step at his side.
“What is in the past is in the past,” Sarfael said, his hand resting easy on Mavreen’s sword. “These days, I think the future is much more interesting.”
“And what is in the future?” Elyne asked.
“Ah,” said Sarfael with a twinkle in his eye. “Desperate work, hard fighting, countless adventures, and an official grant from Lord Neverember to sanctify it all.”
“And, just so I’m clear in my own mind about this, exactly who would be having these countless adventures?”
“Why you,” said Sarfael, draping a friendly arm across her shoulders, “and me. It’ll be the perfect partnership. You’ll see.”
Elyne’s laughter echoed down the street.
In the moonlight streaming through the open window in Dhafiyand’s room, the lady might be mistaken for a young girl, a beautiful moon elf, but then the shadows shifted and her nightmare face was revealed.
Valindra kneeled by the fireplace and shifted her cold hand through the dead ash. She lifted up the large emerald left behind.
Then she stood up and spoke a spell long forgotten by the living. The emerald shimmered and changed. A gleaming green woman stood before her.
“Speak!” Valindra commanded. “Does the crown of Neverwinter still exist?”
“Yes,” replied the emerald golem.
“Can you bring it to me?”
“No. Not without the box.”
Valindra scowled. Then her brow grew smooth. “But can you tell me where the crown is?”
“Yes,” said the golem.
With a satisfied smile, Valindra commanded the golem: “Then speak. Tell me how I can take the crown of Neverwinter for myself!”
