Элейн Каннингем - Elfsong

As soon as the last silvery chord faded into silence, Lucia Thione rose to her feet “Thank you for your lovely tribute, Master Ashgrove,” she said, using her most regal tones to hide how flustered she truly felt. “Please accept in return this small tribute to your skills.” She reached into her money purse and selected one of several small coin bags. She handed it to the elf. He rose and accepted it with a polite bow.

The noblewoman’s farewell to the lady mage was as frosty as propriety allowed. Although Laeral did not appear to realize that she had been put in her place, at least she had the decency to escort Lady Thione to the street without further mockery.

Lucia settled into her carriage, deeply troubled by the morning’s events. Bergand would not be leaving for Nimbral until after the Midsummer Faire, and Garnet could not be put off. She would not wait that long for a helm of a Lord of Waterdeep, and the only one Lucia had a hope of procuring was Caladorn’s. Unless she got it quickly, she stood the risk of being unveiled before Garnet and the Knights of the Shield. The helm she must have, right away, and at any cost.

With a deep sigh, she resolved herself to the necessary course of action. Tapping briskly on the carriage glass, she got the driver’s attention and instructed him to take her to Diloontier’s Apothecary. The posh shop, located in the heart of the Castle Ward, catered to the needs of wealthy ladies and dandies who required herbal and magical balms, perfumes, and potions, and it possessed a sterling reputation and a clientele that included many of those whose names were featured on society’s first-choice guest lists. Diloontier also had a startling array of poisons and potions, which he secretly sold to those who had the appropriate credentials and the right amount of gold. Unfortunately for Caladorn, Lucia possessed both.

When Danilo and Morgalla arrived at the Broken Lance, Wyn Ashgrove was waiting for them, looking strangely out of place amid the athletes and fighters who frequented the tavern. The elf waved them over to his table. “Khelben Arunsun could not come. He sends his regrets. Do you have any news?”

“Less than I’d like,” Danilo replied, taking a seat at the large circular table. The Harper ordered wine and sipped at it absently while Wyn told them about the recent events in Waterdeep. The rumored disappearances of the Lords of Waterdeep concerned the Harper deeply, not only for the city, but because his uncle and mentor was among that group. Not that Khelben had ever admitted to these disappearances, but Danilo had no doubt that the rumors at least in this instance were accurate. Wyn’s news also cast a sinister light on the prophecy in the spell scroll: the lord to fall on the field of triumph would most likely be one of the Lords of Waterdeep.

“Ready to order?” The serving woman, a former city champion in both jousting and swordplay, gave the question an inflection that suggested the talkative party would be advised to either order immediately, vacate the tavern, or draw weapons.

“Another round of drinks,” Danilo suggested, “some bread and cheese for the table, a bowl of bitter greens with summer herbs, and three servings of the eel pie. You must try it; it’s a house specialty,” he informed Morgalla and Wyn.

“Bring four servings,” corrected Elaith Craulnober, coming to the table with a silent grace that startled everyone there.

“You!” Danilo leaped to his feet. “I don’t believe you actually showed up! You’ve got more nerve than a drunken ogre.”

The moon elf rocked back on his heels, surprised by the Harper’s vehemence. “Have I missed something? We did agree to meet here at highsun.”

“That was before you stole the spell scroll.”

“Wait a minute,” Elaith demanded, taking a step toward the angry Harper. “The spell scroll is gone?”

“What? Is there an echo in here?”

Elaith let out a long hiss of exasperation and sank into a chair. “Vartain!” he said with disgust.

“Vartain?” echoed Morgalla and Wyn, in unison and disbelief.

“You heard me. He’s a better thief than a riddlemaster, although he doesn’t like to advertise the fact By the way, Lord Thann, it was he who separated you from your magic ring.”

“He is good,” Danilo muttered as he resumed his seat.

The servant came back with their meal. “Anything to drink?” she asked the moon elf.

“A large bottle of your best gold firewine.”

Danilo’s eyebrows rose. The wine was both potent and expensive. “Are we celebrating or drowning our sorrows?” he asked.

“Do whatever pleases you,” the rogue elf responded, leaning back in his chair. “The firewine is for me.”

“Ah.” The Harper nodded sagely.

“Who’s paying?” the server demanded bluntly.

Before Danilo could reach for his purse, Wyn produced a large gold coin and held it out to the impatient woman. “This should more than cover the cost of the meal and the wine,” he said.

Elaith’s amber eyes narrowed, and he snatched the coin from the gold elf’s hand. After a moment’s scrutiny, he demanded, “Where did you get this?”

“It was given in tribute for an impromptu performance,” Wyn replied, looking both surprised and defensive. “Many of the People make their living with music, and there is no shame in my accepting payment. The gold was rightly earned.”

“Only if you’ve taken up work as a thief or assassin,” Elaith retorted.

“Look, I don’t care how you make the money. Just pass some of it over,” the server demanded.

Danilo handed the woman several silver pieces and waved her on her way. The rogue elf’s words, combined with the size of the coin, reminded him of the coin Arilyn had given him in Tethyr. “How do you know all this?” he asked Elaith. “Seriously,” he added, before the rogue elf could put him off by stating the obvious.

Elaith held out the coin and traced a finger around the circular pattern of runes along the edge. “See these markings? And this shield in the middle of the coin? This is the symbol of the Knights of the Shield, a secret society active mostly in the Southlands—”

“I know who they are,” Danilo interrupted.

“Then you also knew they are sworn enemies of the Lords of Waterdeep. These coins are used for several purposes: as payment, as a tribute for work well done, as a warning when given to an uncooperative lord or merchant, as a means of claiming responsibility for certain violent acts. Some coins even give the name of the agent”

“How do you know so much?” Danilo asked.

“Agents of the Knights show up in Waterdeep from time to time, and I’ve been forced to remove those who get too active,” Elaith admitted freely. “Although I bear little love for the Lords of Waterdeep, the present system works well for me, and it’s in my own best interest to help sustain it”

“Big o’ him,” muttered Morgalla.

“You have reason to believe the Knights of the Shield threaten Waterdeep and her Lords?” Danilo asked.

Elaith nodded. “I’ve spent the night being bombarded with rumors that two new guilds are being organized for thieves and assassins.” When the Harper looked skeptical, Elaith added, “This has been verified by one of my best informants: a highly placed agent of the Kraken Society. His organization is not involved, but they do not disapprove.”

“It must be nice to have friends in low places,” Danilo murmured absently. He claimed Wyn’s coin from the rogue elf and studied it. In the center of the Knights’ distinctive shield was a familiar rune. “I know this symbol!” he exclaimed. “This is the mark of one Lord Hhune of Tethyr. He’s master of the shipping guild there, and I managed to annoy him repeatedly during my sojourn in that land.”