Элейн Каннингем - Silver Shadows

A war against the humans.

The door of the Breaching Whale tavern slammed open, sending shudders through the many-paned windows that fronted the dock. An elf woman burst into the taproom as if she’d been thrust through the door by the winds of a freak summer storm. She was uncommonly tall for an elf, white-skinned and raven-haired—a startling coloring common to the moon people. Vivid blue eyes flamed like wizard fire as she stalked across the suddenly silent room.

Sandusk Truffledigger, the halfling barkeep, watched warily as the elf woman descended upon him with the force of a funnel cloud.

“Where is Carreigh Macumail?” she demanded, punctuating her question by slamming both hands upon the polished wooden counter.

The halfling was gratified to note that her voice, a melodic alto despite her anger, was definitely that of a half-elf—not as flat as a human’s tones, but lacking the music and magic of an elven voice. Elves and humans both were trouble, but to Sandusk’s way of thinking an elf-human hybrid was to be preferred over a pure-blooded version of either variety. Half-elves were treated well enough in Zazesspur, but they walked a thin rope and most of them knew it. The ever-increasing racial conflicts of Tethyr put half-elves in a tenuous position that prompted them to watch their manners and mind their own affairs.

This one, however, seemed determined to be the exception. When the barkeep did not answer fast enough to suit her, the half-elf seized his tunic with both hands and pulled him up over the bar until they were eye-to-eye.

“I know and appreciate the Breached Whale’s reputation for protecting its patrons, and I assure you I have no intention of harming Captain Macumail,” she said softly. “You, however, are another matter entirely. Now talk.”

“He’s gone!” the barkeep squeaked. “He left!”

Arilyn gave him a sharp shake. “I know that. I also know that he routinely informs you of his next destination. Tell me, or I’ll skewer you like a roasting rabbit!”

“But I’m a halfling,” Suldusk protested in a piercing whine that carried to every corner of the tavern. He had long ago learned that those larger than he could easily be shamed, and like most halflings he doled out guilt with a lavish hand. “I’m but half your size!”

The half-elf smiled coldly. “So I’ll use a short sword.”

Suldusk considered the grim practicality of this solution. “He’s not gone far,” he said in tones more modulated toward discretion. “ Mist-Walker raised anchor just this morning. Captain Macumail said something about hooking up with some pirate-hunters. Might be that you could still catch him.”

Arilyn stared at the halfling for a moment; then she gave a curt nod and lowered him to the floor. She turned and strode from the tavern. Without pause, she went to the edge of the dock and dove cleanly into the water.

One of the bemused patrons shook his head and snorted. “By the wounds of Ilmater! What’s the fool elf wench thinking of? Swimming out to Macumail’s ship?”

The halfling heard in these words the voice of opportunity. He smoothed his tunic back into place and then topped off his customer’s mug from a foaming pitcher. “My dear sir, that wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest. And if you’re a wagering man, I’ll happily lay odds that she’ll have him back here by sunrise.”

Arilyn dove deep and began swimming steadily toward the west. As she did, she blessed Black Pearl, an old friend and a half sea elf, for the enchanted amulet of water breathing that allowed Arilyn to enter her world. The Harper was not fond of magic or magical devices, but she’d kept the talisman for many years in honor of her friend. Of late, she’d had need of it so often she’d gotten into the habit of wearing it.

As she swam, she kept a keen watch for threats from the many dangers in Zazesspur’s coastal waters. Colonies of sahuagin abounded; there were even rumors that the creatures had managed to capture several ships, which they used to engage in piracy. These rumors were unconfirmed. Lost ships were not uncommon, but survivors of pirate attacks were rare, and so far none could establish the truth of the strange buccaneers. But Arilyn knew what she knew. Where there were sahuagin, there were also sea elves, and she had long been on better terms with the People who dwelt below the sea than those who walked beneath the stars. She probably knew more about the sea folk’s affairs than did the insular elves of Tethyr’s forest.

The Forest of Tethir was vast and ancient, stretching from its easternmost point in the foothills of the Snowflake Mountains to the Starspire Peninsula, almost to the very edge of the sea. But few elves lived on this swampy western arm of forest land, a part of Tethyr that had long since been abandoned to the humans and their clandestine activities. Poachers cut down the ancient trees for mast poles; pirates docked in fingerlike coves. Even the sahuagin had bases on the Starspire. So, therefore, did the elves. And not just the Sea People. Once the sea creatures had taken to ships, the elven nation of Evermeet had sent in vessels of its own to even the balance.

In a deep cove near the tip of the peninsula, shielded from discovery by jagged rocks both real and illusionary, was a small outpost of the elven navy, cloaked with concealing magic and commanded by moon-elven sailors from the royal fleet. Macumail had confided this to Arilyn a couple years back, right after he’d first been named elf-friend and allowed to make port on Evermeet. The captain had returned from the elven island overbrimming with stories of elven wonders and glowing like a moon in the reflected glory of Queen Amlaruil. Although Arilyn had little patience for his stories about the elven queen, she’d listened and learned what she could. Since Macumail could stay in Zazesspur for only so long without raising suspicions about his intentions, Arilyn guessed he was bound for the elven port. She did not doubt that he would stay close at hand until he had done Amlaruil’s bidding.

From the corner of her left eye Arilyn glimpsed a familiar shape in the dark water: an elven form, smaller than that of land-dwelling People, and almost invisible behind the writhing strands of seaweed he used as cover. If not for her infravision, Arilyn would not have seen him at all.

The elf was clearly part of a patrol. A tightly rolled net was tied to his belt, and he wore several sharp weapons and a wary expression. Arilyn had no doubt that another elf, similarly armed, closed in on her from the right.

She raised both hands high and to her sides to show that they held no weapons. Then she slowly turned to face the first elf. Using the hand gestures she’d learned from Black Pearl, she laboriously spelled out her need to find Macumail. Grudgingly she added that she was on an errand for Amlaruil of Evermeet.

The sea elf’s eyes brightened with adoration at the mention of the elven queen, an expression Arilyn had seen far too often on the face of Macumail, or for that matter anyone else who knew of Queen Amlaruil. Even Elaith Craulnober, a rogue moon elf of Arilyn’s acquaintance who’d spent his many years away from Evermeet honing his reputation for battle prowess and cruelty, grew positively misty at the mention of the queen’s name. The Harper gritted her teeth and focused her attention upon the sea elf’s gesticulating, webbed fingers.

Macumail Elf-friend has spoken of you, Arilyn Moonflower. The People have been charged with watching for your approach, though we expected you to come by boat . He lifted one hand in the directional inflection that indicated humor.

Arilyn, however, was in no mood to be amused. “Moonflower” was the name of the royal family of Evermeet—her mother’s name, and one that Arilyn had no thought of claiming for herself. A simple error, no doubt, but one that grated on her.