Elaine Cunningham: Realms of Mystery

“Thione and Hhune,” Danilo commented in an aside to Arilyn. “The Harpers erred when they made that match.”

She nodded and turned with obvious reluctance to the spirit of the man she had killed. “What was the purpose of your meeting with Elaith Craulnober?”

The spirit’s sneer widened. “Business. No, don’ t bother asking a better question-this one I will answer with pleasure. The elf’s purpose was the same as mine, the same as your own! Oh, yes, he knew you sought the Thione heiress, He agreed to take you with him for that reason. He is using Harper hounds to sniff out his quarry.”

“Elaith has spies among the Harpers?” Danilo demanded, appalled by the thought.

The spirit snorted derisively. “Everyone has spies among the Harpers.”

Arilyn turned away. “I have heard enough,” she said shortly. “Send him away.”

The priestess murmured a few words, and the figure of the assassin faded away. Danilo thanked her, and led his grim-faced partner out of the temple.

“We need to talk to Elaith,” he said.

“You talk to him. Yoseff was all I can stomach for one day.”

“At least come and listen,” he cajoled. “You might hear something that I miss. The answer lies right before us-I am certain of that!”

“Finally, you’re making sense,” the half-elf said. “Elaith is guilty of murder and more. He planned to find that girl, sell her to the highest bidder, He used us to that end. What more answer do you need?”

When they reached the dungeon, Danilo repeated most of these sentiments to Elaith while Arilyn looked in stony silence. “None of this endears us to your cause, you know,” he concluded. “Frankly, I’m disposed to let the matter stand.”

“I have your pledge,” Elaith insisted. “You must press on.”

Danilo sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, “Somehow I knew you’d say that. But what more can do?”

“Find the girl,” the elf insisted. “Find her, and learn who else seeks her. Who would have better reason to see me condemned to death?”

“Had I more time, I would write you a list,” Danilo said dryly. He took the amethyst locket from his bag and held it up. “This is an amulet of seeking, taken from your erstwhile friend Yoseff. The girl is not here, and we cannot leave to seek her elsewhere until the matter of Bentley’s death is settled.”

“Nor would we expect to find her here,” Arilyn said, speaking for the first time. “Bentley Mirrorshade kept the peace for over twenty years. He could never have done that if he got caught up in the endless local fighting, so he swore never to admit anyone to the stronghold who claimed to be of the Tethynian royal family. We can assume that the girl was never at the Friendly Arm.”

“Can we, indeed?” mused Danilo. “Now that I think on it, wouldn’t this be a perfect cover for the girl’s presence?”

“Possibly,” the half-elf countered. “But Bentley is known as an honorable gnome. What purpose would he have in breaking his sworn word?”

“Saving the life of an infant seems purpose enough. For that matter, he could have kept to the letter of his word: he swore not to admit anyone who claimed ties to the royal family. An infant could hardly make such a claim. If indeed Lady Thione’s child was brought here, it is possible that the gnome did not know at the time who the child was.”

“But he learned,” Arilyn surmised. “He probably died to protect that knowledge.”

“Undoubtedly,” Dan agreed, his tone even. He nodded a farewell to Elaith, and he and Arilyn walked toward the stairs.

“You didn’t sound convinced back there,” she said.

“I was thinking. Did you notice the barmaids at the inn? Any one of them could be the woman we seek-they are all about the right age, and by the look of them, any one of them could be kin to Lucia Thione.”

Arilyn considered this. “Their presence in the gnomish stronghold is difficult to explain otherwise. Do you want to take a closer look at them?”

Her partner responded with a smirk. Arilyn bit back a chuckle and tried to glare. “I’ll come looking for you in an hour.”

“I shall bear that in mind,” Danilo murmured.

He made his way back into the tavern and tried to strike up a conversation with the gnome barkeep. All the inhabitants of the fortress were stunned by their leader’s murder, and none of the small folk were inclined to share information with the human who had defended the accused elf. But Dan stringed together a series of grudging, one-word answers and eventually learned that there were a total of eight barmaids, six of whom were on duty.

Since Danilo was more interested in a woman who was not there, he left the castle and went to the barmaid’s house, a stone structure built right against one of the curtain walls. Danilo knocked softly on the wooden door. When there was no answer, he tried the door and found it unlocked.

There was but one large room, simply furnished with straw pallets softened by down-filled mattresses. Two women lay sleeping. Danilo recognized one of them as Sophie, the girl who had administered the peace bonds the night before. A shadow of suspicion edged into his mind. He stooped by her bed and softly called her name. When still she slept, he tapped her shoulder, then shook her. Nothing woke her.

Danilo rose and took a couple of odd items from the bag at his waist, then cast a spell that would dispel any magic in the room. The result was only half what he expected.

“Sophie” was not a woman at all, but a pile of laundry. The other barmaid was not a woman either but an iron golem, a magically-animated construction enspelled to look enough like Sophie to be her cousin. One apparently solid stone wall was breached by a wooden door that was closed but not barred.

The Harper crept closer for a better look. The golem was curled up in mock slumber, but when it stood it would be nearly twice the height of a tall man. The body, shaped roughly like that of a human woman, probably outweighed Danilo’s horse six or seven times over. No wonder so few gnomes held the fortress, Dan realized. An iron golem could stop a war-horse’s charge without get- ting knocked back on its heels, crush an ogre’s skull with one fist, and shrug off blows from all but the most powerful magical weapons. This golem was in need of repair. There was a considerable amount of rust along some of the joints, requiring filing and oils at the very least, and possibly the ministrations of a blacksmith. Danilo guessed that the golem could still do considerable dam age in its current condition. He backed out of the room, grateful that the stone floor, which had no doubt been built to support the construct’s great weight, did not creak.

He bumped into Arilyn at the door. “The barkeep thought I might find you here,” she said.

“Keep your voice down,” he implored, nodding toward the golem.

But his spell had faded, and the figure that rose from the pallet appeared to be nothing more than an angry girl. The illusion-draped construct rushed forward, fist raised for a blow.

Arilyn stepped forward, her forearm raise to block the attack. There was no time for explanation, so Danilo did the only thing he could; he leaped at Arilyn and knocked her out of the golem’s path. Her angry retort was swallowed by the sound of an iron fist smashing into the wall. Jagged fissures raced along the stone, carving a spider-like portrait on the wall.

The half-elf’s eyes widened. “Iron golem,” Danilo said tersely. “Rust on the elbow joints.”

Arilyn nodded in understanding. In one swift movement, she rolled to her feet and drew her sword. Danilo reached for his, then remembered that only magic-rich swords could have any impact. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached for a thin, ornamental blade he wore on his right hip-a singing sword with a ringing baritone voice and an extremely bawdy repertoire.