Элейн Каннингем - Elfshadow

“I know that. Tell me more.”

“From an elf. In Waterdeep. That’s all I know, I swear.”

“Does this elf have a name?”

Beads of sweat broke out on the man’s face. “No, please! If I tell you his name he’ll kill me.”

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

“Life is just full of difficult decisions,” Danilo Thann noted behind her. The unexpected sound startled Arilyn.

“Are you still here?” She threw a glance over her shoulder. The nobleman was leaning casually against a tree, arms crossed.

“Well, naturally,” he replied. “It’s dangerous out here. Who knows, there could be more of these men lying in wait.”

“I don’t need protection,” she said emphatically.

“My point precisely,” he said. “If it’s all the same to you, I don’t mind remaining in the company of a lady who knows her way around a dagger.”

“Suit yourself.” Arilyn turned her full attention back to her captive. “The elf’s name?”

“I can’t tell you!” he said in desperation. The dagger began its path along his jaw again. “All right! All right.”

“Well?”

“His name is—”

The ruffian’s voice snapped off as if he’d been throttled. Slowly Arilyn lowered the dagger, watching in disbelief as the man’s face blackened and his tongue bulged out of his mouth. She backed away, unable to take her eyes from the horribly distorted face. A low, rattling gurgle burst from the man, and he slid, lifeless, down the length of the tree trunk.

“Merciful Mystra!” exclaimed Danilo Thann. “You’ve killed him!”

Arilyn spun around to face the horrified nobleman. “I did not kill this man,” she said.

“Well, I certainly didn’t,” retorted Danilo Thann. “I might not know much, but I do know dead. And he’s it. How do you explain that?”

“I can’t.”

“Me either. We’d better go back to the tavern and alert the local authorities. Let them figure it out.”

“No!”

Her vehemence seemed to surprise the young dandy. “If you didn’t kill him, what do you have to worry about?” he asked reasonably.

Plenty, Arilyn thought. The last thing she needed right now was to leave another body in her wake. Her past invited speculation, and sooner or later someone would put the pieces together and label her the Harper Assassin. That day seemed close at hand, for the news of Rafe’s death was spreading far too quickly. Kymil already knew, so it was possible that the Evereska authorities had also learned of the young Harper’s death.

“Come on,” she said abruptly. She tucked the gold snuff box into her sleeve and set a brisk pace back to the stables. The noblemen fell in beside her.

“Where are we going?”

“The stables.”

“Oh? Why’s that, I wonder?”

Arilyn was in no mood to banter. Under the guise of reclaiming Danilo’s arm she pressed the tip of her dagger to his side. It pierced his silken tunic, but the fool’s slightly amused expression never faltered.

“Do be careful of the fabric, will you?” he admonished her.

Arilyn looked at his vague smile, wondering for the first time if the man were simple. “You’re coming with me.”

“Yes,” he agreed calmly, pausing as Arilyn swung open the door to the stable. “So it would appear.”

Irritated, she prodded him inside. “Just keep walking.”

“Well, really,” he huffed. “There’s no need to be so grim about this. Believe me, I’m a willing victim,” he said, looking her over and smiling.

His calm acceptance of the situation temporarily disconcerted Arilyn. Danilo smirked at the bewildered expression on her face.

“Don’t look so surprised, my dear lady. I will admit that the dagger is a new approach, but I often encounter women who are most eager for my company.”

Arilyn snorted. “We’re here for horses, not a pile of hay.”

Danilo cocked his head and considered the possibilities. “My, my. You are full of innovative ideas, aren’t you?”

Gritting her teeth in annoyance, Arilyn dropped his arm and threw open the door of the first stall. A matched pair of chestnut mares, fine-boned and high-spirited, tossed their heads and whinnied. The horses looked fit and, most important, fast.

“These will do,” Arilyn announced.

“I should say,” he murmured in reply.

She tucked the dagger back into her belt, grabbed a finely wrought saddle from a hook, and thrust it at Danilo. “I assume you can ride.”

He took the saddle from her outstretched hands. “Please! You wound me,” he protested.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Danilo sighed and shook his head. “I can see that setting the proper tone for this moonlight ride will be my responsibility entirely.”

It was time to convince this grinning idiot that matters were serious. In one quick fluid movement, Arilyn drew the dagger and hurled it at him. The weapon streaked past Danilo, sweeping off his hat before imbedding itself in the wooden beam behind him. Arilyn strode past him and plucked the dagger and the hat from the beam, then thrust his hat at him.

He fingered the hole in disbelief. “Really! This was a new hat,” he protested.

“Consider the alternative,” she pointed out with grim humor. “Saddle up.”

Sighing lustily, the dandy stuck the mutilated hat back on his head and did as he was told. To his credit, he worked quickly. Arilyn watched the stable door, but she could detect neither sound or movement. Perhaps she had shaken her shadow, after all.

After years of stopping at the Halfway Inn, Arilyn knew its secrets very well. Although the front of the stable opened onto a busy, well-lit street, a door at the rear of the building would put them directly onto a wooded path that would take them northward through the forest. She’d used that exit on more than one occasion. When both mares were saddled, she motioned for Danilo Thann to follow her. Obligingly he led his horse after her.

On the way out Arilyn stopped by her own horse’s stall. She retrieved her saddle bags, and for a moment she looked with longing eyes at the gray mare. It pained Arilyn to leave her horse behind, but the mare needed rest badly. Arilyn took a bit of parchment from her saddlebags and scribbled a note to Myrin Silverspear, asking him to care for her horse and to reimburse the owner of the paired chestnuts for their loss. The innkeeper had handled such a transaction for her once before, and he would trust her to pay him back as soon as she returned. Theirs was a strange friendship, but she knew she could rely on him for anything. Arilyn placed the note between two of the boards that formed the wall—the stableboy would know to check there for messages—and then gave her horse a farewell pat.

As she turned to go, Arilyn looked up at the nobleman. His expression was sympathetic, and she felt a wave of irritation. Many killers were tender of their horses, so why did the fool regard her as if she were a new mother cooing over an infant?

“Come on,” she snapped. After leading the way out of the stables and onto the path, she hiked up her flowing skirts and mounted her borrowed horse. When they reached the edge of the forest Arilyn drew a knife from her boot and held it up for Danilo to see.

“If you run, this will find your heart before your horse takes ten paces.”

Danilo smiled and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of running. Now that you have well and thoroughly captured my attention, I can’t wait to find out what all this is about. What a story I’ll have to tell once we get home! We are going to Waterdeep, aren’t we? I mean, eventually? Just imagine, I’ll dine out for a month of tendays on this adventure and …”