Элейн Каннингем - Silver Shadows

“What is Bunlap doing in the Forest of Tethir?”

“That, I cannot tell you. He is not supposed to be in the forest proper. His men are supposed to guard the logging camp from attacks.”

Ferret leaped to her feet as if she’d been shot from a balista. “A logging camp? Where is this place?”

“In truth, I do not know. The records say the logs are shipped from southern lands.”

The elf woman shook with repressed fury—and something deeper than rage. “I would see something that was built of these logs. Now!”

Hasheth scowled, unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a tone. But Arilyn nodded, and the young man walked from the room. He returned with a polished circle of wood, some three feet across, that was in the process of being made into a small gaming table. This he placed on the floor; then he shot an inquiring glare at Ferret.

The female paid him no heed. She let out a small, strangled cry and fell to her knees beside the wooden circle. Her fingers traced the narrow rings, lingering at the pattern of tiny eyes that peppered the intricate grain. Finally she lifted grimly furious eyes to Arilyn.

“This tree was ancient when the hills of Tethyr were populated only by wolves and wild sheep! There are few trees of this age in the southern lands. This has to have been taken from the elven forest!”

A heavy silence fell over the room. “I’m no expert in local ordinance, but I know that’s hideously illegal,” Arilyn said. “Why would Hhune take such chances?”

“It may be that he does not know the origin of the lumber,” Hasheth suggested quickly.

“I doubt that. Well, Ferret, it’s not hard to guess what your next target will be,” Arilyn said grimly.

“Hhune,” agreed the elven assassin.

“But first we need your planning expertise,” Arilyn said, turning to the tense young man. She described the mission and what they needed of him. Hasheth agreed to all, but there was a distracted, mechanical quality to his responses that Arilyn heard and mistrusted.

When their planning was complete, the young man walked the women to the front gate. On impulse, Arilyn turned to Hasheth and said softly, “Listen, I don’t particularly like Hhune, but as long as he keeps away from the forest and the elves I’m content to let him live. Do this: find out why Hhune is taking such a risk and who might be at the head of it. If there’s a way to stop this without killing your new employer, we’ll do it.”

“I will do what I can,” Hasheth agreed at once.

He stood at the gate for a long time after the half-elf and the exotic courtesan had left, pondering how best to handle this new wrinkle. Of course, he could arrange matters so that Arilyn and her associate never found their way out of Assante’s stronghold. That would be simple. A few words from him, describing the plans of a Harper within their midst, would surely buy him his coveted membership into the Knights of the Shield.

But there was no knowing what Arilyn had told her superiors, or whether the Harpers would send agents to replace her. Hasheth did not want any meddling northerners digging into Hhune’s affairs or taking his place as Harper informant. No, Arilyn must be protected.

But he could not allow her to harm Lord Hhune. The merchant was too pivotal a part of the plans Hasheth had made for his own future. Certain sacrifices must be made, and the plans made a bit more complex, but surely, Hasheth concluded comfortably, such was not beyond a man of his abilities.

The lythari slipped from his den through an eastern door in the Forest of Tethir, one he had not used for many years.

This door took him to the easternmost reaches of the Suldusk hunting grounds, near the edge of the forest’s boundaries. Ganamede seldom came here, for the wild elves who lived among these ancient trees had little use for anyone outside their tribe. There were few wild elves as hostile and reclusive as the Suldusk.

Even so, Ganamede had promised to look out after the interests of all the green elves. In his wolflike form, he padded silently southward to the Suldusk settlement.

The terrain here was more uneven and wild than in the western parts of the forest. The trees grew upon tall hills filled with caves and punctuated by rocky cliffs and ravines. To Ganamede’s eyes, it was more like the forests of the far Northlands than those of most of Tethyr. Indeed, here the first refugees from Cormanthor had settled so many years ago. The trees they’d brought from the elven forest still watched over the land.

The Suldusk, however, had lived beneath the trees of Tethir for time out of memory. Their tribe had been there to greet the refugees from Cormanthor—the elves who, in time, had become the Elmanesse tribe—and they had received the gift of seedling trees from the northern forest. But relationships did not remain cordial between the tribes. There had been centuries of raiding, followed by an uneasy truce. For many years there had been no contact between the tribes at all. Even the lythari clans did not hunt Suldusk lands.

Ganamede’s sharp ears caught a distant sound—faint, but alien to the forest and therefore keenly audible. The lythari climbed a large hill that led toward the settlement. From there he would have a view of the valley below. Although it was heavily forested, he might catch a glimpse of the source of the disturbance.

Running lightly, the elf in wolf form crested the hill and came to a stop at the edge of a cliff. He stood, stunned, gazing out over the valley. What had once been a wondrous elven forest was ravaged and stripped of life and magic. Massive tree stumps dotted the land. The thick foliage had been burned away so that the dead trees could be more easily dragged to the river for transport.

Ganamede shook his silver head in denial. How could this be? The fierce Suldusk elves would never allow their home to be ravaged. Not while they lived, at least.

The lythari spun and ran for the elven settlement, which was hidden in a valley not far from the devastated forest. He stopped long before he reached it, halted by the scent of sorrow and death and despair. He crested the hill that overlooked the Suldusk valley, finding what scant cover remained. Cautiously he crept closer, for he had to know what had become of the Suldusk folk.

For a long time Ganamede stood gazing upon the ravaged Suldusk land. Then his silver form shimmered and disappeared, and he stood on the charred circle on two legs, a solemn, silver-haired elf. This he did without thought, driven by a deep and compelling need.

In his wolf form, Ganamede could not weep.

Bound together at the wrist with Arilyn’s amulet of water breathing, the two elven females entered the well that was Abrum Assante’s escape tunnel. While the giant shrimp went into a feeding frenzy over the ham hock Arilyn had thrown them, she and Ferret swam quickly upward. They bobbed to the surface of the water, cautiously scanned the pink-marbled tunnels for guards, and then climbed out.

As soon as Arilyn unfastened the amulet from around their wrists, Ferret toweled the water from her hair and then bound it up in a turban. She shook out a number of veils from her pack and draped them over her nearly naked form. Her role was to place Tinkersdam’s candles in the upper palace. Dressed as a Calishite courtesan, she could do so without attracting much attention. A new face among Assante’s women would be nothing unusual; his harem was extensive, and the women apparently came and went quickly enough. After all, the guardian shrimp must be fed!

And while Ferret set Tinkersdam’s destructive candles in place, Arilyn would go about the task of stealing the slumbering Zoastria from Assante’s treasure rooms.

When Ferret was safely away, following the palace map Jill had drawn for her, the Harper drew her sword and strode toward the door to the first treasure room. As before, three guards barred the way. Arilyn didn’t slow her pace, but came on with deadly intent.