Элейн Каннингем - Elfshadow

“It worked!” he said. He cast a speculative look at Arilyn, then with a sly smile he offered her a sugar lump.

Arilyn blinked, her mouth dropping open in astonishment. Then her worn face lit up unexpectedly and she laughed.

“I shall accept that as an apology,” Danilo stated, an expression of delight flooding his face as he surveyed the loveliness of her usually stern visage. “Quite a fight, eh?”

His frank admiration disconcerted her, and his casual approach to battle defied her perception of him. Danilo Thann was not quite the helpless, shallow dandy he appeared. He was dangerous, in more ways than one. Arilyn’s smile faded, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“The goblins are dead,” she observed.

Danilo quirked an eyebrow as he surveyed the carnage around them. “You have a firm grasp on the obvious.”

“How?” she persisted, ignoring his teasing.

He shrugged lightly. “You know goblins. They’re always fighting among themselves and …”

“Enough!” Arilyn snapped, rounding on him. “I am not a fool. I do not enjoy being treated like one.”

“You get used to it,” Danilo interjected mildly as he adjusted the angle of his hat.

“To which, no doubt, you can attest,” she noted with asperity. “Whatever else you may be, though, you can fight. Where did you learn to fight goblins?”

He grinned disarmingly. “I have five older brothers.”

“Very amusing,” she said dryly, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied the man. “That is not enough to explain your skill or your confidence in battle.”

“All right then, would you believe six brothers?”

Arilyn’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “This isn’t getting me anywhere,” she muttered to herself. She straightened and addressed the young man in a brisk tone. “All right. Your secrets are your own. You saved my life, and I owe you. You have more than earned your freedom.”

From beneath the brim of his hat, Danilo gazed pointedly around the forbidding landscape. “How lovely,” he drawled. “Now that I’m no longer strictly necessary to you, you no longer require my company. In compensation, I get to pass some time in the Marsh of Chelimber, taking in the sights, conversing with the natives. A bargain, by my eyes. Tell me, am I to undertake this suicidal journey on foot?”

“Of course not,” she retorted. “You’ll ride.”

Danilo lay one hand on his chest, a dramatic gesture of gratitude. “Ah, the lady gifts me indeed—freedom that I could have taken for myself and one of my own steeds. They are my horses, by the way. Truly, I’m overwhelmed.”

Arilyn gritted her teeth and silently counted to ten. With sorely tested patience she spelled out her intent: “At daybreak, we head south. Both of us. Once we find a merchant train, I’ll leave you in their care. Now do you understand?”

“Ah. Thank you for the kind thought, but no.”

Exasperated, the half-elf sank onto the ground and dropped her weary head into her hands. It would seem that the fop had something of the merchant in him after all; judging from his tone, he was prepared to barter like a Calimshite peddlar.

“I take it you have something else in mind?” she observed.

He sat down on a rock facing her, grimacing as he held his richly embroidered robe clear of the lizard blood that pooled on the ground near his feet. “As it happens, I do,” he said lightly. “You.”

Startled, she sat upright and eyed him with suspicion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your company,” he clarified. “From now on, we shall be partners and travel-mates.”

Arilyn stared at the nobleman. Remarkable though it seemed, Danilo appeared to be serious. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

Leveling a stern look at Danilo, she said, “I work alone. I walk alone.”

“Or so it is written in the stars,” he intoned, gently mocking the stiffness of her tone.

Arilyn flushed and looked away. “I didn’t mean to sound so pompous,” she continued quietly. “I simply do not wish to travel with another.”

“What have we been doing for the better part of two days?” he asked, then raised one hand to cut off the argument she had ready. “Yes, yes. I know. Escape, hostage, secrecy, that sort of thing. All that aside, you said you would keep me with you until you reached Waterdeep. Is the word of Arilyn Moonblade given with such fervor, but taken back so lightly?” He smiled at the angry flash that came to her eyes. “No, I thought not. Here it is, then: by your own words, you owe me. As payment for your life, I choose to stay with you, to Waterdeep and perhaps a while longer.”

Arilyn massaged her aching temples as she tried to sort this through. “Why?”

“Why not?”

Arilyn’s patience was thinning rapidly. “Why?” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“If the truth must be told, I’m a bit of an amateur bard. Well thought of in some circles, too, if I may say so.”

“Eventually, this will have a point?” she asked wearily.

“Naturally. You heard me sing the Ballad of the Zhentish Raiders?” Danilo waited, his expression obviously courting praise. Arilyn’s only response was a continued glare, so after a moment the dandy shrugged and continued.

“Yes. Well. This journey is turning out to be quite the adventure, isn’t it? I’ve decided to seize the opportunity and write an original ballad about the Harper Assassin. The first! My fame will be assured! You’ll feature largely in the tale, of course,” he noted hastily and magnanimously. “Part of it is written already. Would you like to hear what I’ve got so far?” Without waiting for encouragement, Danilo cleared his throat and began to sing in his fine tenor voice some of the most strained verse Arilyn had ever heard.

Arilyn sat through two stanzas before drawing a knife and placing the tip at Danilo’s larynx. “Sing another note,” she said calmly, “and I’D carve that song from your throat.”

Grimacing, Danilo took the blade between his thumb and forefinger and eased it away. “Merciful Milil! And I thought the critics in Waterdeep were harsh! What do you expect from someone who’s merely a gifted amateur?”

“A straight answer would be nice,” she suggested.

“All right then,” he said bluntly, “I’m concerned about survival, plain and simple. I have no desire to be on my own, and you’re as good a bodyguard as any I’ve seen. Frankly I doubt I’d be any safer traveling with a merchant caravan, so my present lot suits me just fine.”

Arilyn considered the statement for a moment. His words rang true, and he looked as serious as his foolish countenance would probably allow. If he wanted protection, Arilyn acknowledged, she owed him that much. She thrust the blade back into her boot and gave in to the inevitable.

“All right,” she conceded. “We ride hard and split the watch, the hunting, and the cooking. There’ll be no chatter, no magic, and no singing.”

“Anything,” he agreed readily. “Get me safely to Waterdeep, my dear, and I’ll even polish your weapons for you. By Tempus, they could use a good once-over.” As he spoke, Danilo reached out to stroke the moonblade’s ancient, tarnished sheath.

Immediately a spark of blue light lit the marsh. With a sharp oath, Danilo recoiled, jerking back his hand. He held up his index finger, regarding it with disbelief. The skin at the tip was blackened, blasted by the sword’s magic.

“What did I do wrong? What prompted that thing to attack me?” he demanded. “Didn’t you say it couldn’t draw innocent blood? Oh, wait a minute—no blood. Forget the last question.”

Keeping her eyes steady on Danilo and her voice level, she added, “There will be one more condition to this ‘partnership.’ You must never touch that sword again.”