'I do not intend to walk to Silverymoon,' Elaith said. 'If I kill you now, that's what I'd have to do. Leave this for another time, and let's get on with the matters at hand.'
He sheathed his daggers and began to walk back to camp. Rhep let him pass, then lunged at the elf's back.
The attack was drearily predictable. Elaith's patience snapped. He sidestepped and seized the man's wrist as it thrust past. He turned, twisting the arm behind Rhep's back. The sword clattered to the ground, and the mercenary fell to his knees, his arm held unnaturally high. Elaith jerked up higher still. Rhep's arm parted from its shoulder with an audible pop. The man shouted once in pain and outrage, then sagged to the ground, senseless.
Elaith whirled toward the dwarf, but Ebenezer had disappeared.
For a moment Elaith considered pursuit, but he had little doubt of the plan laid against him. The dwarf would no doubt return to the caravan, bearing word that Bronwyn and Elaith-who had been seen sharing a secluded campfire-had decided to go off on their own. If Elaith showed up without her, he would be called upon to explain what had become of the woman. No one would believe he was innocent of foul play. Certainly not once they managed to round up their captain and saw the state he was in.
With a hiss of frustration, Elaith turned aside and melted off into the trees. Moving lightly among the forest shadows, he skirted the camp and headed toward the city below.
The sun was high above the Moonbridge when Elaith arrived in Silverymoon, alone and in a foul temper. He asked directions of a passing town crier, then wove through the streets to a shop bearing a sign depicting a multifaceted gem.
He strode into the antechamber and toward the locked door. The two guards flanking it eyed the grimly ap shy;proaching elf warily. Elaith threw a pair of knives with shy;out breaking stride. Both men jerked upright, pinned through their throats to the door frame.
The elf batted aside the flailing hand of one of the dying men. He pivoted on his right foot and kicked out hard with his left. The door flew open with a sound like a thunderclap.
Mizzen himself was behind the counter, stroking his billy-goat beard with apparent satisfaction. He froze when the elf exploded into the shop, then let out a little bleat of alarm. With a quick, frantic burst of speed, he lunged for the bellpull behind him.
Elaith kept coming, another knife poised in his hand. He hurled it, pinning the cord to the wall. 'For form's sake,' he told the shrinking merchant. 'The alarm would do you little good.'
'The guard-' began Mizzen.
'My apologies,' the elf said with a mocking little bow. 'They are still standing at their post, if that is any consolation.'
The merchant paled, then panicked. He reached under the counter, seized handfuls of crystals and gems, and began to pelt the elf with them.
Elaith batted aside a few of the missiles, then snatched a large hunk of jasper from the air and hurled it back. The rock caught Mizzen on the forehead. Both his eyes turned inward, as if the merchant wished to identify the specific rock that struck him, then he tilted slowly back and crashed into a shelf laden with what shy;nots. Crystal trinkets rained down upon their creator like multicolored hail.
Muttering, the elf found a half-full pitcher of wine and threw it on the senseless man. Mizzen came to, sputtering with indignation. His protests stopped abruptly as he recalled his circumstances and his attacker.
'Take it,' the man pleaded, sweeping both hands in a wide arc to indicate the entire contents of the shop.
Elaith glanced around and was not particularly impressed. 'Crystal dragon? Perfume bottles? I think not.'
'Then w-what? W-Why?' Mizzen stammered.
'I wished to purchase the ruby you spoke of just three nights past, but I believe now that I will simply take it, since I've paid out in annoyance more than the gem is likely to be worth.'
'Oh, that!' Mizzen looked relieved at the limited scope of the anticipated theft. 'A young woman came in earlier. She offered me more than a ruby that size was worth. No one can blame a man of business for taking a profit,' he said piously.
'Unless he sells for profit another man's goods. I believe that stone belonged to Oth Eltorchul.'
'Lord Eltorchul,' Mizzen repeated, his voice getting stronger as ire crept into his tones. 'That stone will just about cover what he owed me. Cheat and liar, he was! Hiding behind that title, acting as if no commoner had the right to demand pay.'
The story rang true to Elaith. In his experience, the wealthier or more titled a man, the less concerned he was about certain financial obligations. Since the Eltorchul clan was not overburdened with ready coin, merchants such as Mizzen were unlikely to see payment. Elaith could hardly blame the man for trying to cover his losses.
'What of the dream spheres?'
Mizzen looked surprised to hear these words, but only for a moment. 'Gone,' he said shortly. 'Lord Eltorchul made arrangements to have them sent to Waterdeep, same way they got here.'
Elaith was not pleased to hear this, but he would deal with the inconvenience later. 'What of the gem? You know something of its true worth-you let that much slip when you were deep in your cups. The 'elf gem,' you called it. Why did you let it go?'
'I didn't like it,' the man said bluntly.
The elf considered this a reasonable response. To in shy;spire the man to elaborate, he removed a dagger from his belt and began to toy with it, flipping it nimbly between his hands. 'The dream spheres. Oth was using the Mhaor shy;kiira Hadryad-the elf gem-to create these devices.'
'That's right.' Mizzen spoke quickly, his eyes fixed in horrified fascination upon the flashing, spinning dagger. 'He said it was an ancient elven artifact that held the memories of an entire lost clan. He placed some of these memories in the crystal spheres, to be released by a paying dreamer.'
Not a release, but an exchange, thought Elaith. Each time some stupid sod used one of these toys, one of his own memories or dreams went into the kiira stone. No doubt Oth sorted through them, keeping what was useful and turning the rest back into other magical fantasies.
On the surface, it seemed an ingenious way of gather shy;ing information. Elaith almost admired the man who'd found a way to profit from the evil artifact. Oth's com shy;mand of magic clearly outstripped Elaith's. Unfortu shy;nately for Oth, he was limited by his arrogance and his human ignorance. While Elaith might be accused with some justification of the first vice, he, unlike Oth Eltorchul, knew what the gem could do, and he knew how incredibly dangerous it could be. Kiira were among the most powerful of elven magical items. The Mhaorkiira, or 'dark gem,' was the only one that had been twisted to evil. It had somehow absorbed the twisted ambitions of the long-dead Hadryad clan, and in the process had con shy;tributed to the demise of that ancient family.
The thought did not deter Elaith. 'How are these dream spheres made?' he demanded.
'I do not know. Lord Eltorchul never entrusted the secret to me.'
Mizzen understood his mistake as soon as the words were spoken. In speaking too freely, he had outlived his usefulness. His eyes grew enormous with fear, then glazed over in acceptance of death.
The elf obliged him.
On the way out, Elaith tossed aside a gilded mirror-the only ornament on the carved and polished wood of the walls. The hidden door beneath was almost laugh shy;ably obvious to his keen elven vision. He ran his fingers lightly over the carvings, found and released the clasp.
Inside the safe was a pile of gems-real gems, entrusted to Mizzen to be matched with crystals. Elaith emptied the safe's contents into his bag and slipped out the back door into the streets. It would be an easy task, finding a caravan of flying creatures. All that remained was for him to find them, and the Mhaorkiira Hadryad, and then settle with Bronwyn and her dwarven ally.
As Elaith suspected, Silverymoon was abuzz with word of the strange caravan, but to his dismay, his side trip through the forest had cost him. The caravan had already left the city on fresh mounts.
The determined elf sought out the stables where the caravan had taken a brief rest. A pair of elven grooms clad in Gundwynd livery tended the hooves and hides and wings of the weary pegasi.
Elaith's hand went to his sword, and then he thought better of it. These were gold elves, well armed and in good trim. Fighting them would take more time than he had to spare.
