Элейн Каннингем - Elfshadow

“Another time.”

“Danilo …” Arilyn warned through gritted teeth.

The dandy smiled apologetically at her. “Arilyn, my dear, I’m forgetting myself again, aren’t I? Mark of an amateur, that’s what it is: going on and on like this, when a true bard would merely listen and observe. I’ll do that, really I shall. Please, do go on with your conversation. Pretend I’m not here at all. I’ll be as silent as a snail, really.”

Stubborn fool, Arilyn thought, stifling a sigh. She knew that arguing with the dandy usually made matters worse, so she smiled ruefully at Elaith and said, “With your permission then, it would seem that we are three this evening.”

“If it pleases you,” the elf agreed mildly. He regarded Danilo as one would an overgrown and badly trained puppy. “I don’t believe we have met.”

“This is Danilo Thann,” Arilyn supplied quickly, before the young man could say something more to risk the elf’s ire.

“Ah, yes.” Elaith smiled with gentle amusement. “Young Master Thann. Your reputation precedes you, as well.”

The elf left that remark for Danilo to take as he would, turning his attention to the ceremony of the Elverquisst. With a flick of his long-fingered hands, he tossed a tiny magical fireball toward the candle at the table’s center. Arilyn winced as the candle caught flame. At that moment she caught Danilo’s curious gaze upon her, and she gravely shook her head to warn him not to interrupt. The nobleman subsided and watched the ceremony in growing fascination.

Elaith Craulnobur cupped his hands first over the candle, then over the decanter of elven spirits on the table before him. The bottle was a marvel, made of transparent crystal that sparkled from thousands of tiny facets. The elf took the decanter in both hands, turning it slowly before the candle, and the bottle grew ever brighter as it absorbed the light. Finally the quessir spoke a phrase in Elvish, and the stored light coalesced into thirteen distinct points that glowed like stars against the sudden darkness of the crystal decanter

Arilyn’s throat tightened, as it always did, before the sight of the autumn constellation Correlian. To the moon elves, the appearance of this star formation marked the final demise of summer. Elaith and Arilyn joined softly in a chant of farewell, and the light faded from the decanter with the final words of the ritual.

Gently Elaith poured some of the liquid into a goblet, swirling it in a complex pattern that set in motion a play of fairy lights and color. His graceful hands moved through the steps of the ritual with practiced ease. The ceremony’s resonant magic had been forged through centuries of repetition, as untold generations of elves celebrated the spiral dance of the seasons.

As she watched, Arilyn almost forgot about Danilo’s foolishness and Elaith’s reputation, and for a moment or two she allowed herself to be transported back to her childhood in Evereska. The last time Arilyn had shared the Elverquisst ritual had been in her fifteenth year, just before the death of Z’beryl.

Elverquisst itself was a ruby-colored liquor magically distilled from sunshine and rare summer fruits. Utterly smooth, the liquor was nonetheless flecked with gold and had an iridescence of both color and flavor. It was highly prized at all times, but in the autumn rituals it was savored as if it were the gift of one final, perfect summer day.

Elaith completed the ceremony and handed the goblet to Arilyn. She drank it slowly, with proper respect, then inclined her head to the quessir in a ritual bow of thanks that completed the ceremony.

With an imperious gesture, Elaith summoned a waiter. “Another goblet, if you please,” he instructed the young man. As an afterthought, Elaith turned back to Danilo. “Or perhaps two more? Will you have some Elverquisst as well?”

“Thank you, I prefer zzar,” Danilo said.

“Of course you do,” Elaith said smoothly. “A goblet of that ubiquitous beverage for our young friend, then, and dinner for three,” he instructed the nervous waiter, who nodded and escaped to the safety of the kitchen.

“Now,” Elaith said to Arilyn, “what brings you to Waterdeep? The Feast of the Moon, I would suppose? You’re here to enjoy the festival?”

“Yes, the festival,” she agreed, thinking it the most harmless response.

“An interesting affair. Raucous, gaudy, but undeniably colorful enough to draw a crowd. Like this inn, the city is already full of visitors. Too full for my taste, although the influx of travelers is good for business. I trust you have found a suitable place to stay?”

Arilyn looked to Danilo for an answer. “Were you able to get rooms here?”

“Room,” Danilo corrected a bit sheepishly. “One room. The place is full up.”

One room, Arilyn thought with dismay. Another night with Danilo Thann. She leaned back in her chair with a faint groan. Her reaction was not lost on Elaith.

“That would be the bad news of which you spoke, I imagine,” the elf observed wryly.

“Strange you should find it so,” Danilo countered mildly, apparently misunderstanding the gibe. “Sharing a room with a beautiful woman doesn’t strike me as a hardship.”

“The etriel ,” Elaith corrected pointedly, observing Arilyn’s silent fury over Danilo’s suggestive remark, “does not seem to share your enthusiasm.”

“Oh, but she does. It’s just that, you know, Arilyn is the very soul of discretion,” Danilo confided, man-to-man.

At that moment the waiter returned with their drinks. Arilyn snatched the goblet of zzar from his tray and thunked it down in front of Danilo.

“Drink this,” she suggested sweetly, “and several others. I’m buying.”

Taking up the other goblet, Arilyn plunged into the half-remembered ceremony of pouring and offering the Elverquisst. If Elaith found anything amiss in her rendering of the ritual, he did not speak of it. The ritual brought a much-needed change of direction to the conversation, which turned to local gossip, politics and—this being Waterdeep, after all-commerce.

Despite his promise to remain a bardic observer, Danilo continued to verbally spar with the quessir . The nobleman scored a good number of hits, any one of which, coming from any other man, could have been considered grounds for a challenge. Elaith let the gibes pass without comment. He really could not do otherwise, for Danilo’s barbs, if such they were, were issued with such friendly delicacy that responding with anger would seem as ludicrous as swatting at soap bubbles.

Arilyn sipped her drink, silently taking the measure of her strange dinner companion. Elaith was charming to her, unfailingly polite even in the face of Danilo’s foolishness. For someone reputed to be a savage, ruthless killer, he showed remarkable restraint and good humor. Perhaps the rumors are exaggerated, after all, Arilyn mused.

“Ah, dinner at last,” Elaith announced. Two waiters appeared, one bearing a well-laden platter, the other a small serving table to augment the overly cozy corner table.

The waiters lay several dishes on the tables: roasted meat, several small fowl still sizzling on a spit, turnips, boiled greens, and small loaves warm from the oven.

The moon elf studied the simple fare with patrician distaste. “I’m afraid this is the best the inn has to offer. Some other time I will offer you more suitable hospitality.”

“It is fine. After the rigors of travel, simple food is the best,” Arilyn assured him.

She and Danilo tucked in. The meal seemed to improve Danilo’s mood even more. Disgustingly cheerful, he again engaged Elaith Craulnobur in conversation, relishing the verbal give and take in the same way a swordsman enjoys a good match.