There was no time to scream, even if Lilly had been able to. The Harper hit the floor hard. Lilly's eyes widened in horror as Cynthia's lifeblood spilled out into a spreading pool. The red stain reached out toward her in wide rivulets. To the terrified girl, it looked like tat shy;tling fingers pointing the way to her hiding place.
Even so, she was startled when a large green hand thrust under the cot and seized a handful of her skirts. The creature dragged her out with a single tug, then jerked her onto her feet.
In some mist-veiled corner of her mind, Lilly realized that she could stand on her own. The poison Isabeau had administered was beginning to wear off. Her ter shy;rible fear, however, was nearly as immobilizing. She stood frozen like a mouse facing a raptor, staring with a wide, dry, unblinking gaze into the fanged smile of a tren.
'You have some very interesting dreams,' observed the creature in a musical voice. 'It is almost a shame to end them. However, it is necessary, you see. A step toward an end I highly desire. As is this.'
The tren held up a bit of parchment. It was the note Isabeau had stolen from the bearded man. On it was written the details of the air caravan's route. A signa shy;ture had been added to the page. The name was that of her secret love. 'They will find you, and they will know what you did. Of course, they will blame your gallant lover. He will pay for every loss, every death. And your family, of course. Oh, yes, the Thann family will pay as well.'
Lilly shook her head, a tiny movement of anguished denial. Her secret love had had nothing to do with this! She was the thief, not he! Never, never had she intended anyone to die!
Even as she tried to shape air into protest, the crea shy;ture before her began to change. The thick body became longer and more slender, the features sharp.
Lilly remembered what she knew of Isabeau Thione, and she thought she understood what manner of foe the woman had fled. Isabeau had stolen her escape, though, and had left her to face this handsome monster.
The deadly visitor smiled, as if somehow pleased that she understood his true nature and his intention. Then his smile widened horribly and his face elongated into a reptilian snout. Scales erupted on his face, and an antic shy;ipatory string of drool dripped from the false tren's fangs. He lifted claws already stained with Cynthia's blood, and hooked them with slow, tantalizing delibera shy;tion. There was malicious pleasure in his eyes. He intended to feed on her terror as surely as a real tren would have fed upon her flesh.
Lilly would not close her eyes. A noble's life might have been denied her, but the manner of her death she could choose.
She fought the immobilizing poison with all the strength and heart and will she could muster. Her chin lifted with a mixture of pride and courage, and she regarded the creature with steady calm as the deadly claws slashed in.
Twelve
The next morning dawned fair and bright. To the west of Waterdeep, past the north gates, lay a fair expanse of gently rolling meadow and a pleasant wood beyond. It was a favorite playground of the city's privileged class, a fine place for riding and hunting. In the distance, the baying of hounds and the excited halloos of pursing riders spoke of a fox run to ground. The blue skies were dotted with the small, wheeling forms of hunting hawks. A dull, faint thumping spoke of beaters flailing the trees to startle game into the path of waiting hunters.
Despite the evidence of nearby sportsmen, no human parties marred the immediate landscape. There was a scent of autumn in the air: the tang of drying oak leaves, the elusive perfume of late-blooming flowers, the sweet shy;ness of apples and cider wafting from the carts that trundled toward the city markets on the hard-packed dirt road. Elaith Craulnober tried to concentrate on these pleasant things and forget his distaste for the woman who rode at his side.
This should have been an easy task on so fine a day. He had his best, silver horse beneath him and a peregrine falcon riding-unhooded and untethered-on a perch on his saddle's pommel.
The small 'lady's hawk' that Myrna Cassalanter car shy;ried was confined according to human custom and rode on the leather bracer on her wrist. The elf refrained from comment. If he could endure this dreadful woman's com shy;pany, if he could smile pleasantly as she gleefully slew the reputations of her peers, then surely he could over shy;look her treatment of her hunting birds. What was such a thing, anyway, to an elf whose inner darkness both sur shy;passed and controlled that of the Mhaorkiira?
Finally the woman lifted the little hawk's hood and tossed the bird into the air. The tiny raptor winged off gratefully in search of game and an hour's freedom.
'You are wise to pursue this matter,' Myrna said, turning back to the matter that had brought them to this discussion. 'Rumors abound concerning the poor treatment suffered by the Gundwynd family's elven employees. It is whispered that Lord Gundwynd knew of the attack on the air caravan and used the elves as cannon fodder.'
She smiled unpleasantly. 'Surely you can make good use of this situation. There will be a number of elves leaving Gundwynd's service and seeking other employ. You should be able to engage their services for far less than the going rate.'
Elaith did not comment on this advice. 'Important information,' he allowed. It was, too. He wouldn't have started the rumor, if it were not.
'The Ilzimmer clan is also under scrutiny,' Myrna said with relish. 'You might find a way to make use of that, as well. There is a particularly juicy tale making the rounds about Simon Ilzimmer, a minor mage who likes to visit courtesans in shapeshifted form. Only a handful of the city's hired escorts will have anything more to do with him.'
'That is hardly the sort of thing likely to bring profit,' Elaith said dryly, 'and spreading such stories could make you rather unpopular.'
'To the contrary! The appetite for such tales is immense.'
The elf had to admit, privately, that Myrna's assess shy;ment of human nature was distressingly on the mark. 'Perhaps I can repay my day's debt with a similar story,' Elaith offered. When Myrna nodded eagerly, he added, 'Rumor has it that Lord Gundwynd is furious with his youngest daughter, Belinda, who has been dallying with one of the family's elven grooms.'
The woman clapped her hands with delight. 'Oh, that is priceless! Belinda Gundwynd, of all people! To look at the prissy little wench, you'd think that a neck shy;lace of ice wouldn't melt on her bosom. A stable hand is scandal enough, but an elf! You don't know how the peerage loathes that notion.'
'Oh, I have some idea,' he commented, thinking of five tren assassins and the noble family who had hired them to kill him. That debt would soon be paid, the attempt on his life avenged. His business in Skullport and in Waterdeep would continue unchallenged, for those who had reason to stop him would be extremely busy elsewhere. Once the dust of battle settled, it was likely that those people would be in no position to chal shy;lenge him, at least, not for a very, very long time.
An extreme measure, perhaps, but in his mind it was payment long in coming.
* * * * *
The costume ball lasted until dawn. Galinda Raventree's guests toasted the new day, then wandered off intending to sleep it away. Danilo and Arilyn took their leave as well. After shedding their costumes for less fan shy;ciful garb, they went to The Curious Past to check on Bronwyn.
The young merchant was less than happy with the results of her trip. 'I got one of the crystal spheres you were looking for,' she said. 'The others were gone before I reached Mizzen's shop. But I did find a most interest shy;ing gem.'
She told them about the ruby-and her suspicion that it might hold some sort of magic.
Arilyn, who had been listening to the tale with scant attention, sat bolt upright. 'This stone: Was it about the size of a dried bean, perfectly round, with small facets whirling up to a flat surface?'
Bronwyn nodded. 'Yes. You know it?'
The half-elf rose and began to pace. 'There is hardly an elf who does not! You have heard of kiira gems?'
'I believe they are some sort of memory stones,' Bronwyn said slowly. 'Artifacts from ancient times, they
