Элейн Каннингем - Elfsong

Elaith hurled the sword to the ground; its song broke off with a choked “Erp!” that suggested the magical singer had been throttled by unseen hands. The moon elf stalked over to Danilo. Shaking with barely contained rage, he thrust a finger into the Harper’s chest

“You fool !” he thundered. “No one, no one but you would wield such a ridiculous weapon!”

Danilo crossed his arms and leaned back against a tree. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought you did rather well.”

A silver dagger flashed in the elf’s hand. With a quicksilver motion, Elaith lunged forward and held the point against the Harper’s throat Danilo merely cocked an eyebrow.

“Now really, my dear Elaith. I should hate to see you change your methods at this late hour. Wouldn’t you rather I turned my back first?”

“Might I remind you both that we have business in Waterdeep?” Vartain’s emotionless voice broke in. “Our foe is bound there and will strike on Shieldmeet That is three days from now.”

The elf glared at Danilo with undisguised hatred, but with a visible effort he eased the dagger away. “We made an adventurer’s pact. I will honor it. Once the harp is recovered, though, I make no guarantees.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Danilo picked up his singing sword and tucked it back into its scabbard. “I’m off for Waterdeep. I can take two people with me now and return after sunset for two more. Vartain, you should come now. Perhaps if you and Khelben Arunsun were to put your resources together, you might be able to come up with the identity of our bardic foe.”

The riddlemaster bowed. “It would be my honor.”

“I’m coming, too,” Elaith stated. “I have information sources in Waterdeep that the archmage himself would envy.”

“Modestly put,” Danilo said dryly. He studied those who would remain behind. There were Wyn and Morgalla, the elven hermit, Balindar, Mange, and Cory, a dark-skinned youth who was the youngest of Elaith’s sell-swords. “First off, try to find the other horses, then head toward the Goldenfield temple farms. Once you find the stream, follow it to a calm, deep pool and set up camp. I’ll meet you there shortly after sunset”

Danilo motioned Vartain and Elaith to his side and set in motion the spell of teleportation. Swirling white light filled their vision, solidifying into solid black granite.

The trio stood in a courtyard before the tall, smooth cone of Blackstaff Tower. A twenty-foot wall loomed behind them. Neither structure had any visible doors, gates, or windows. Both of the Harper’s companions surveyed the archmage’s home with intense interest.

The solid wall of the tower blurred for a moment, and the archmage stepped out to greet his visitors. Danilo sped through the introductions. Khelben Arunsun proved himself a master of diplomacy when he received the news that the rogue elf Elaith Craulnober was his nephew’s partner.

“Welcome to Blackstaff Tower. Please join my lady and me for midday meal. We have much to discuss, and can talk while we eat.”

Elaith responded with a cryptic smile. “A pleasure deferred, Lord Arunsun. If you’ll show me the way out, I have inquiries to make.” After promising to meet Danilo at a tavern the following day at highsun, Elaith slipped through the wall’s invisible door.

“It’s a long story,” Danilo said dryly, nodding his head in the direction the elf had taken.

“It’ll wait Now, what have you two got?”

Over a midday meal of lentil stew and smoky cheese, Danilo filled his uncle in on the events of the last several days. Vartain gave the archmage a brief summary of the encounter with the dragon, and he went over the scroll’s contents in detail. He then offered his profile of the sorceress.

“Our enemy is a bard and a mage of considerable power. She is a speaker of Middle Sespechian, which means she is either a specialist in obscure dialects, or a native of Sespech who is at least three hundred years old. She is also a skilled riddlemaster, and the wording of the riddle suggests that she is—or at least was at one point—a Harper.”

Khelben nodded, his face grim. “Some of the altered ballads suggest that you are right about the last point. This bard was seen in Sundabar, you say? Is she an elf?”

Danilo shook his head. “No one who saw her could say one way or another, but the age Vartain suggests makes it seem likely. Wyn seems to think she is, too. Why do you ask?”

“I can think of one person who might fit this pattern. Iriador Wintermist was the daughter of a famous elven minstrel and a human baron of Sespech. She was a noted mage and an up-and-coming bard. She joined forces with Finder Wyvernspur’s band and traveled with him for a time. By all reports, she fell in battle during the Harpstar Wars.”

“A half-elf, eh? What did she look like?”

“Iriador was a famed beauty with brilliant red hair and vivid blue eyes. She was very slender, not much over five feet in height, and delicate of feature. If she is alive today, even with a potion of longevity she would no doubt appear ancient Three hundred years is very old for a half-elf.”

“That’s not much to go on,” Danilo said ruefully, rising from the table. “We’ve got to alert Kriios Halambar. If we can keep this sorceress from entering the site of the barding college Ollamn, perhaps we can purchase a little more time. At the very least, we can have the shop watched for someone who fits that description. Vartain, you’re the one to handle this. Come, I’ll see you out”

The riddlemaster walked with him in silence out of the tower and onto the street. “If I may ask, why do you entrust this mission to me?” he asked.

“You see things most men miss,” Danilo said with no thought of flattery.

“In recent days, I seem to have missed a great deal,” the riddlemaster in a glum voice.

Danilo looked at him sharply, for such introspection seemed uncharacteristic of Vartain. “Actually, your accuracy is astounding. You’ve a remarkable mind. Never have I seen anyone with your breadth of knowledge or attention to detail. I’ve noticed that when you do miss something, it is because you are too involved with sorting through facts and fitting things together. If I may ask, how would you define ‘humor?”

Vartain looked puzzled by the apparent change in topic. “Levity, that which is lighthearted and amusing.”

“Well, that’s good, as far as it goes. I’ve got another definition: humor is looking at the broad picture, and then finding the incongruous detail. Humor is another word for looking at life from a slightly different angle. It means not taking yourself too seriously. In addition to all that, it adds a bit of fun to the process of living.”

“Fun?”

Danilo slapped the riddlemaster on the back. “Fun,” he repeated. “When all this is over, I suggest you look into it”

Vartain seemed unconvinced, but he bowed and hurried off in the direction of Halambar’s Lute Shop. The Harper retraced his steps into the tower’s reception hall.

“Let’s see the scroll,” Khelben demanded at once.

Danilo reached into his magic bag. His eyebrows met in a puzzled frown. “That’s odd,” he mused as he rummaged around. “It was right here on top.” The Harper began to remove one item after another from his bag, until the pile on the floor was nearly knee-deep.

“Enough!” Khelben said in exasperation. “The scroll is obviously gone.”

His nephew nodded to concede defeat. “Elaith Craulnober has struck again. I’ve no idea how he does it, but he got a ring off my finger without my noticing.”