The Dream Spheres

does not, but this discussion ends now, before matters between us are beyond repair. With all respect, my lady, if you were a man, I would be obliged to call you out for such statements.'

'If you were a man, there would be no need for this discussion!' she snapped. Her anger cooled as quickly as it flared. 'My son, I must be frank.'

'Imagine my astonishment,' he murmured.

Cassandra let the comment pass. She accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant and used it to make a sweeping gesture that encompassed the spark shy;ling throng. 'Look about you. Have you never noticed that there are no elves among Waterdeep's nobility?'

He shrugged. 'Yes? So?'

'Perhaps you should ponder that.'

Danilo snapped his fingers. 'What about the Dezlen shy;tyr family? Corinn and Corinna are half-elven, and Corinn stands to inherit the title.'

'The title will be challenged, of that you may be certain,' she said in a distracted tone. 'These are the children of Lord Arlos's elven wife. His first wife,' Cas shy;sandra stressed. 'Do you remember the circumstances of her death?'

A story Danilo had heard in his youth, long since for shy;gotten, floated to the surface of his mind. 'She was found dead in the garden,' he said slowly. 'If I recall aright, Lord Arlos insisted that it was the work of assas shy;sins. He claimed that his enemies were loath to see races other than human introduced into the Waterdha shy;vian nobility and that his lady's death was the result. Surely, though, this was nothing more than the raving of a grieving man!'

Cassandra met his eyes once more. 'Was it?'

A long moment of silence passed between them, for Danilo could think of nothing to say in the face of such absurdity. Before his wits returned, his mother glided away, and was swept up into the circle of dancers.

* * * * *

Arilyn stalked down the gleaming halls, ignoring the thorns that had pierced her too-thin slippers. At the moment, she would have happily traded her best horse for a pair of stout, practical boots. Not only would they have saved her feet from the skyflower thorns, but they would also lend conviction to the kick she longed to deliver to Danilo's backside.

Whatever had come over the man? Granted, he was fond of pranks. True, he worked behind the carefully constructed facade of a shallow, silly fop. She could accept that much. Much of the time, she derived a con shy;siderable amount of secret amusement from his con shy;trived foolishness. She had learned to look behind the jest to the intent, and usually found herself in full agreement with Danilo's goals, if not always his methods. This stunt, however, was utterly beyond her ken.

As Arilyn's ire faded, however, she remembered the look of astonishment on Danilo's face. Then there was his use of Elvish to warn her. This was strange, consid shy;ering the pains he took to hide his knowledge of the lan shy;guage from his peers. No, there was considerably more to this night's work than a silly prank.

'Are we almost there?' she asked the maidservant as they rounded yet another corner in the labyrinth of halls and rooms within rooms.

The girl looked back over her shoulder and smiled sympathetically. 'It is a lovely party, even with that bit of excitement. You must be impatient to return.'

Arilyn cast her eyes toward the ceiling and forbore comment. Perhaps by human standards, this was a lovely party, but she could not help contrasting elven festivals with Waterdhavian fetes. Here the heart of festive gath shy;erings was politics, business, and intrigue. Deep, true celebration eluded the city's humans.

What could this girl know of such things? How could she know the joy, the unity, that marked elven festivals? Judging from the servant's clear and untroubled smile, she also knew nothing of the heartaches and complexities that could result. Arilyn wasn't altogether certain whether the girl was to be pitied or envied.

Finally the maidservant showed her into a room. She insisted upon bringing out one bright costume after another, expounding the merits of each. Anxious to get on with it, Arilyn pointed out a silver gown that looked about the right size-and that was loose enough to allow freedom of motion. She peeled off her silk slippers and handed them to the maid to give her something to do. The girl exclaimed in dismay over the thorns embed shy;ded in the delicate fabric, then settled down to the task of pulling them out and scrubbing at the stains.

Left to her own devices, Arilyn quickly stripped off her ruined gown and tugged on the replacement. A brisk brushing removed clinging bits of twigs and leaves from her hair and left the black curls floating in a wild nimbus about her shoulders. She shifted impatiently from one bare foot to the other as she awaited the return of her shoes.

'I'm afraid they're ruined,' the girl said at last. She cast a reproachful look up at Arilyn. 'You've bled on them.'

'Inconsiderate of me,' the half-elf responded dryly. She nodded toward the room-sized closet adjoining the bedchamber. 'You have any boots in there?'

The girl's eyes rounded, and she sputtered in protest. Arilyn let her have her say, then simply raised one eye shy;brow. With a sigh, the maidservant yielded. In moments she emerged, holding a pair of low, thin-soled leather boots gingerly between thumb and forefinger.

'This is not the done thing,' she began. 'The Lady Cassandra bade me to attend you and find you suitable clothing. She will not thank me for this.'

Arilyn suppressed a sigh. The boots were obviously elf-crafted, for they were of butter-soft deerskin dyed a rich blue shade that no human artisan could achieve, and they fairly shimmered with magic. Most likely they were worth more than the collar of silver and sapphires Arilyn wore.

'Elves wear these for dancing,' she assured the girl.

'Well…'

'If you come to grief over this, send Lady Cassandra to me,' Arilyn said firmly. 'I will settle the matter.'

The girl considered her for a moment. A slow, specu shy;lative smile spread across her face. 'That is something I would dearly love to see,' she said softly.

Arilyn chuckled. 'Hand over the boots. If a fight breaks out later, I won't draw first blood until I'm certain you have a good seat. Agreed?'

'Done.'

The boots changed hands, and in moments Arilyn was on her way, alone. After the first few turns, she real shy;ized that nothing looked familiar. She had been too dis shy;tracted by her troubled thoughts to mark the way in. Now she, an elf who could track a deer by moonlight and follow a squirrel's trail through the trees, was com shy;pletely turned around in the maze of rooms and halls.

'Wouldn't Bran be proud?' she muttered, naming the famous human ranger who had sired her. Once Danilo got wind of this misadventure, she would never hear the end of it. Determined to keep her embarrassment to herself, she kept going, merely nodding to the occa shy;sional servant or guest she passed.

Her mood darkened with each false turn. Finally she gave in to the inevitable, and decided to ask directions from the next person she encountered.

She heard the sounds of conversation coming from a room at the end of the hall and set off toward it at a brisk pace, silent as a shadow in her borrowed elven boots. She slowed as she neared the door, and listened to the conversation with a mind toward finding an accept shy;able place to interrupt.

'It is my considered opinion that there is already far too much magic in Waterdeep.'

This statement, emphatically spoken by a familiar, faintly accented male voice, halted Arilyn in mid-stride. It was not the sort of thing one expected to hear from Khelben Arunsun, the most powerful wizard in the city and Danilo's long-time mentor.

Arilyn grimaced at her misfortune. If she inquired directions from this assembly, Danilo was certain to hear of her plight.

'You present an interesting proposal, Oth Eltorchul, but a dangerous one,' stated a thin, querulous male voice.

That would be Maskar Wands, Arilyn supposed. Danilo had often described the elderly wizard as being as