The Dream Spheres

shoulders sagged in relief.

'Don't think this is over,' Isabeau said, her dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

The half-elf heard the voices and hurrying footsteps of servants in the hall. They began pounding on the door.

Apparently this was yet another trigger for attack. The winged gargoyles began to stir. Arilyn dove for her sword, and came up in a battle-ready crouch. Unlike her first adversary, true gargoyles only looked like stone. These were living creatures, and what lived could also die.

She spun away from a diving attack and delivered a backhanded slash. Her sword sliced through the batlike wing. The creature plummeted into the bed, sundering the ticking and sending feathers flying into the air.

Isabeau edged toward the window, obviously intend shy;ing to take Arilyn's escape route. 'Not this time,' the half-elf muttered. She lunged at Isabeau and caught her by the nightdress. She sent her spinning back into the room and took a stand in front of the window to block the woman's escape.

By now the manor's servants were at full alert. They had improvised some sort of ram and were pounding at the door with it. The wooden planks bulged inward with each resounding thump.

Arilyn paused at the window and sent a warning look at Isabeau. 'We're not through.'

'Oh, but I think we are.' The woman gestured toward the door. The bar was beginning to splinter.

The half-elf swung herself over the balcony rail and slid down the rope. Though it galled her to do so, she had little choice but to retreat. Isabeau was in no posi shy;tion to bring a formal accusation against Arilyn, but if the Eltorchul servants found her on the estate, Isabeau would not have to speak out. The penalties for unwanted intrusion in a lord's home could be stiff.

She ran through the garden and to the rope she had left hidden behind the elm. Quickly she climbed the wall, and then made her way back to the orchard. Her mare awaited her, and she cantered toward her mistress.

Arilyn caught the saddle's pommel and swung her shy;self up. She leaned low over the horse's neck and urged her on to Waterdeep. Isabeau would have to be dealt with, but the half-elf herself was in no position to do so.

An old question, one that she had not asked herself in years, floated to the surface of her mind: Who would take the word of a known assassin?

* * * * *

The door splintered and flew inward, sending a half dozen servants stumbling into the room. Isabeau gath shy;ered up the neckline of her gown in one hand and drew back, as if this intrusion were not so much a rescue as an affront to her modesty.

One of the maids snatched up a coverlet and draped it around Isabeau's shoulders. 'What happened, my lady? Are you hurt?'

Isabeau sent her audience a tremulous smile. 'No, thanks to your quick response. A man came in through the balcony. I think he just meant to rob me, but the statues came awake, and they fought. It was terrible, terrible!'

The maid clicked her tongue soothingly. 'Rest, lady. As you've seen, the master's magic will keep you safe.'

'I cannot stay here after this!' Isabeau exclaimed in astonishment. 'Saddle my horse at once.'

'But dawn is hours away,' one of the men protested. He wavered before Isabeau's steady gaze and conceded, 'We could send a guard with you.'

'I would be most grateful. Perhaps you could see to the arrangements, while I dress?' she hinted.

The servants retreated, leaving Isabeau alone and furious. She threw open the doors of the wardrobe and began to toss rich garments onto the bed as she consid shy;ered what her next step should be. Without Oth as a protector, she was in a delicate position. That wretched half-elf had surprised a reaction from her that might tie her to the theft of the air caravan.

Much good had that done her! The treasure was lost. The goods had been moved to Skullport, but they had been stolen before Diloontier could claim them for her. Or so he said. Isabeau would not be at all surprised to learn that the perfume merchant had double-crossed her.

So now what? She had no treasure, very little money, and a pair of diligent hounds on her trail. Isabeau had witnessed how relentless Arilyn and her handsome com shy;panion could be in pursuit of one of their little crusades. She muttered curses as she dragged a small traveling chest out from under the bed and began to hurl her new, stolen wardrobe into it.

'You are quick to take what is not yours,' observed a cold, male voice behind her.

Isabeau gasped and whirled, one hand at her throat. A tall, slender figure stood in the shadows, smiling with icy amusement.

Her heart leaped painfully, then picked up the rhythm at a shallow, frantic pace. A strange giddiness overtook her, and the floor tilted as if it were an enchanted carpet on the verge of taking flight. She seized the bed curtain for support.

'You!' she gasped on a short, sharp breath. 'It was you who pursued me!'

'Clearly, this is more of a surprise to you that it should be,' the intruder said.

'What are you going to do with me?' she said in a tremulous voice.

His laugh was equally resonant of music and scorn. 'Please. The role of delicate maiden does not suit you. I am not going to kill you.'

'Then what?'

'This is a warning, nothing more. Do not pursue the dream spheres. I will brook no more interference.'

Isabeau seized what seemed a likely distraction. 'You will suffer interference regardless of what I do. Two meddlers are already on the trail. You know them well. Arilyn the half-elf, and Lord Thann.'

This news was received in silence. He lifted one hand, displaying a small glowing sphere. 'If they cross me, they will die-but not before I learn what death they fear most.'

She laughed scornfully, a bit of bravado that went a long way toward restoring her spirits. 'So much for the vaunted concept of honor among peers.'

With the speed of a striking snake, his open hand shot toward her. Isabeau turned with the blow so that it barely grazed her cheek. The intruder reined in his anger with visible effort.

'Do not press me,' he said in a low voice quivering with rage. 'Heed well my words. I do not wish to see you again, but I might yet have use for you. The tides in the southlands have turned, and you will be welcomed in your homeland. Find your way there as soon as possible.'

There was a puff of acrid smoke, then a soft hissing sound as air rushed to fill the void left by the shadowy figure's disappearance. The sudden wind swirled Isabeau's hair and nightdress around her and then was gone.

Isabeau brushed aside one of her dark locks and real shy;ized that her knees were trembling like aspens. She sank down on the bed and considered this new development.

Tethyr, the land of her ancestors. The suggestion had merit, and it fit well with her new and loftier ambitions. However, it was one thing to decide upon a trip to the distant south; it was quite another to manage it. She had no patron, little money, and slim prospects of get shy;ting more before the winter snows set in. The only solu shy;tion she could devise was to return to Waterdeep and recover the lost treasure. When she had accomplished that, she could return to her homeland in style.

Yes, that was what she would do. Isabeau rose, her mind made up, and continued stuffing the garments owned by some Eltorchul woman into the traveling chest. She would have the dream spheres, and she knew just how to get them.

Let the half-elf and her courtier chase down the mag shy;ical toys. She would follow them, as the desert jackal slinks after a pride of hunting lions. Jackals ate well, as a rule.

It did not concern her that many had died because of these spheres-some of them at her hand. She would not meet that fate. Arilyn and Danilo were powerful buffers. When they fell, Isabeau would know to retreat.

She began to hum as she finished her packing. The servants who carried her things to the stables and handed her up onto her horse commented with admira shy;tion on her courage and resilience.

'I will be fine,' she assured them. 'I will do very well indeed.'