“An elfling?”
“A half-breed,” Edric said. “Elf and halfling.”
“Disgusting! I did not know such an abomination was even possible!”
“Never mind that,” Edric said. “His name is Sorak. Or so he styles himself.”
“The Nomad?” said the black-clad elf.
“He may have adopted the persona from the ballad, for reasons of his own,” said Edric, “but he carries a sword that has been broken, so that a little less than half its length remains. I saw it. It is made of steel.”
“Steel!”
“And engraved with elven runes,” said Edric, “though I was not close enough to read them.”
“Are you saying it is Galdra?” the black-clad elf asked with disbelief.
“At the very least, it seems meant to pass as Galdra, though when I questioned him about it, indirectly, he said the blade was merely an old heirloom of his family, something he carries for sentimental reasons only.”
“But you said it was broken.”
“That could be part of his ruse,” said Edric, “to explain why the enchantment does not work. According to the legend, if the Sword of Alaron is touched by a defiler, it will shatter and the enchantment will be broken.”
“And the prophecy with it, I should think,” the Shadow replied.
“Perhaps,” said Edric. “Or perhaps not. The legend is vague upon that point.”
“So this Nomad is passing himself off as the so-called Crown of Elves?”
Edric shook his head. “No, not at present, anyway. He appears to be posing as a mercenary. Perhaps he really is, I do not know. He seems to have struck up a friendship with this Kieran. But then, that would be logical, if he intends to strike a bargain with the House of Jhamri.”
“What sort of bargain?”
“I am not sure,” said Edric, “but I have an idea. He joined the caravan in South Ledopolus, as I did, but he came from across the estuary. I suspect he may have come from Bodach.”
“Bodach!”
“Both he and the priestess carry heavy packs,” said Edric. “I have not had an opportunity to examine them, but I believe it’s possible they may contain some of the lost treasure.”
“That would be very interesting if it were true. What makes you think so?”
“A hunch,” said Edric. “I have heard some stories of this Nomad’s exploits. And if those stories are true, it may be possible he has discovered the secret of the lost treasure’s location. He may have gotten his hands on a small part of it, but he could never hope to remove it all alone. That would take an army.
“An army of elves, perhaps?”
“Exactly,” Edric said, nodding. “And what better way to recruit such an army from among the desperate elves and half-elves of the cities than to pose as the embodiment of one of their most cherished myths? The Crown of Elves will lead an army to secure the lost treasure of Bodach and finance the coming kingdom.”
“And where does the House of Jhamri fit into all of this?”
“What better custodian for the lost treasure? Who better to invest it for him?”
“Ah,” the Shadow replied. “So he brings the treasure to the Jhamris, cuts them in for a share to convert it into ready assets, and then disappears with his profits.”
“Those were my thoughts, precisely,” Edric said.
“A bold and risky venture,” said the Shadow. “Aside from the risks involved in stealing Bodach’s treasure, if he proclaims himself the Crown of Elves, pretender or not, he still risks the wrath of the sorcerer kings, who would see him as a threat.”
“Not if he moved quickly enough,” said Edric. “If he absconded with the treasure, there would be no elvish king to threaten anyone. Merely a bold rascal who had cheated his gullible followers and then disappeared.”
“A fascinating theory,” said the Shadow. “But you have no proof that this is what he plans.”
“Why else would he adopt so dangerous a pose?
The rewards would have to be significant. Either way, the talonmaster must be told. If the Nomad can be taken alive, we can get the truth from him. If he really does know where the lost treasure of Bodach can be found—”
“Then we can take it for ourselves,” the Shadow finished. “I will pass on what you’ve told me. The talonmaster will decide what is to be done. Meanwhile, see what else you can learn. Do they suspect you?”
Edric snorted. “Not a chance. I have laid the groundwork for my part too well. They all discount me as an effete, limp-wristed bard en route to Altaruk to sing songs. I have even taken up with a gorgeous half-elf dancing girl, who shares a tent with me and treats me like an older sister. She does not suspect the truth, of course, and it helps maintain the fiction. However, it is all I can do to keep my hands off her. And that is another thing. She is not to be harmed in any way. Her name is Cricket, and she may have fallen on hard times, but she was tribal once.”
“I will make it known,” the Shadow replied with a smile. “So, Edric, have you lost your heart, then? I did not think you even had one.”
“Keep your jests to yourself, little brother. If you saw her, you would understand.”
“No doubt. I am looking forward to it.”
“Well, I’d best get back,” said Edric. “It will soon be sunrise, and we will making ready to get under way. I will look for you at Grak’s Pool tomorrow night.”
“Until tomorrow then, my brother.” They clasped arms, and Edric headed back toward camp. He glanced back over his shoulder once. His brother had disappeared. Edric smiled. No one moved as silently or as swiftly as the Shadows. And no one was more adept at espionage, assassination or intrigue.
The Crown of Elves? The elfling half-breed who called himself the Nomad would soon discover what a real elf was, not the pathetic, weak-willed elves who lived among the humans in their cities or the half-savage desert wanderers
