The Dream Spheres

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 moti shy;vated 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 cen shy;taur'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 spec shy;tacle, 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 gather shy;ing 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 peer shy;age 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 coun shy;try 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 en shy;joyed 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.

She'd wiped her streaming eyes and subsided to a chuckle. 'Not even close.' She frowned and plucked at the diaphanous layers of her skirts. 'Who am I to talk? When was the last time you saw a six-foot faerie?'

The answer to that, in Dan's opinion, was 'not often enough.' He and Arilyn had decided to go separate ways for much of the evening, assuming that Danilo's peers might be more forthcoming with gossip if the half-elf were not too close at hand. Her hearing was keener than any human's, so she could gather information in a different fashion.

Apart from talk of Haedrak's claim, most of the gossip Danilo had heard focused upon the party's hostess. He watched Galinda Raventree as she glided about the dance floor, deftly steering compatible guests toward each other and just as skillfully heading off possible confrontations. The woman was a marvel-he had often remarked to his fellow Lords that she would be a re shy;doubtable diplomat.

His fellow Lords, was it? Danilo grimaced as he real shy;ized that he had yet to return the Lord's Helm to Piergeiron. So many other matters demanded his atten shy;tion. He would be glad to get the city and its demands behind him and begin shaping his life in a pattern more to his liking.

This returned his thoughts firmly to Lilly and to the confrontation he intended to have with Lord Rhammas concerning duty to family-all members of that family, regardless of which side of the blanket they happened to be born on.

He handed his empty goblet to a passing servant and took off in search of his father. Not a difficult task-he merely followed the tang of pipe smoke to the room where Lord Rhammas and a dozen or so of his peers waged war with weapons of thick, painted parchment.

Danilo had never been one for cards, but courtesy demanded he wait and watch until Rhammas tired of the game. Finally the older man threw down a losing hand and announced his desire for air.

He did not acknowledge his son's tacit request for conversation, but he fell into step and they walked out to the garden together. Neither man spoke until Danilo was reasonably certain they would not be overheard.

'All has been done as you requested, sir.'

The older man nodded. 'Good. That's settled, then.'

'After a fashion, yes. But I am curious: why has Lilly never come to light before? Did you not know of her?'

Rhammas sent him a quelling glance. 'The matter has been handled. There are other, more important con shy;cerns to attend.'

More important than a newfound daughter? Danilo did not speak the words, but he saw from the flash of anger in his father's eyes that he had not managed to keep the challenge from his face. Well, now that his opinion was known, he might as well be shorn for a sheep as for a lamb. 'I cannot conceive of anything more important,' Dan said softly.

'Then apparently you haven't heard of the raid upon the consortium's air caravan.'

This was the first time his father had ever mentioned the family business in Danilo's hearing. The shock of this was quickly overtaken by the implication of his father's words. A feel of cold, creeping dread threaded its way through Danilo's irritation.

'The caravan was a joint effort among several of the noble families,' Rhammas explained, oblivious to his son's stunned reaction to this news. 'Fine cargo-gems, swords, small statues, and the like-were flown to Silverymoon, with the intention of bringing back more of the same.'

Danilo's mind raced with dire possibility. Foremost among them was Bronwyn's safety. She had sent him word that she planned to join an air caravan organized by the Ilzimmer and Gundwynd families, in which both Elaith Craulnober and Mizzen Doar, the crystal mer shy;chant, had purchased passage.

'Flown,' he repeated.

Rhammas took this single world as a question. 'Grif shy;fons, pegasi, large birds. Ingenious notion, but we all warned Lord Gundwynd that he stood to lose a fortune should things go awry. Those beasts were at least as valuable as the cargo they carried.'

'Were?'

This time Danilo did intend the question. The attack must have been devastating, if some of these fierce beasts had been lost in the fighting!

His father either missed the question or chose not to dwell upon such unpleasantness. 'I must say, this econ shy;omy of response is not your usual custom. Well done. Quite refreshing.'

Danilo shook off what might have been either com shy;pliment or insult. If Bronwyn had traveled in that car shy;avan, and Elaith as well, either or both might be dead.

'Were there survivors?'

'Oh, Lord Gundwynd came through just fine. Tough old bird-couldn't kill that man with a meat axe. So did some of the mercenaries, and most of the merchants. The caravan lost a few guards and some hired hands. And the cargo, of course. Bad business all around.'

It was an unusually long speech. Lord Rhammas lifted his pipe in a gesture of unmistakable finality. He took a draw, frowned, and then held it out for inspection. The wisp of smoke had vanished. He murmured something