Элейн Каннингем - Elfsong

The people recovered their equilibrium quickly, for Waterdhavians had seen it all and were as irrepressible and adaptable as any people in Faerûn. Everywhere they were arguing about the identity of the strange bard, whether she or Khelben Arunsun was responsible for the wizard weather, and even whether they should confirm the rule of the Lords of Waterdeep or seek other solutions to their problems.

Vendors wove through the crowd, offering refreshments and—considering all that had transpired—herbs, simples, and potions to soothe the nerves and dull the pain of minor injuries. The wealthiest visitors and citizens settled into the raised, curtained seats that ringed the outer edge of the market, and servants tended to their needs and carried messages and wagers between the booths of various noble and wealthy families. Those of lesser station gathered in the middle of the marketplace, and soon the entire area resembled a living, closely woven tapestry.

In her hiding place over a nearby weapon shop, Lucia Thione could hear the sounds of the crowd as the throngs passed by on the way to the meeting. Elaith Craulnober had made all her travel arrangements, and had bid her to wait there for her armed escort. Lucia hated to leave Waterdeep, for she had lived in the city most of her life and had enjoyed her position here. Yet much of her wealth was secreted elsewhere, and she had substantial holdings outside Waterdeep. She would want for nothing, and she would start again.

As the twilight deepened into evening, there came a knock on the door in the elaborate code that the moon elf had prearranged.

Lucia nodded to her guard, and the man unlocked the door. A tall, red-haired man ducked to avoid hitting his head on the low lintel. He entered the room and affixed her with a sad, steady gaze. Lucia gasped and fell back from him.

“Your surprise is understandable, lady, considering the circumstances of our last meeting,” said Caladorn. “I understand that you will be leaving our city, and I believe that you have already met your traveling companion.”

A portly, dark-skinned man with a look of extreme satisfaction on his black-bearded face strolled into the room. The noblewoman’s heart plummeted when her eyes settled on Lord Hhune.

Lucia threw herself into the young man’s arms. “Caladorn, you love me! You cannot do this to me. If only you’ll listen, you’ll know that I—”

He broke off her despairing plea with a simple shake of his head, then took her shoulders and gently put her away from him. “No more. I am breaking the law by allowing you to go. You know as well as I the penalty for impersonating a Lord of Waterdeep.” Caladorn took her hand and bowed deeply over it “Farewell, Lucia.”

The young man turned to Hhune, who was studying Lady Thione with an unreadable expression in his black eyes. “The Knights of the Shield are neither welcome nor tolerated in this city,” Caladorn said. “I have been instructed to say that you must never return to Waterdeep. Shieldmeet is a time of truces: you would do well to be far from these gates when this day of peace is over. Remove your thieves and assassins, and the city is prepared to honor its trade agreements with your shipping guild.”

“You are most generous, Lord Caladorn,” Hhune said in inscrutable tones. “I accept your offer and will comply with its terms. And as the elf requested, I will see my countrywoman safely out of the city.”

The young man bowed and turned away, quickly disappearing down the stairs and out into the market-bound crowd. With him went the last of Lucia’s hopes. She wondered if he understood the sentence that his mercy had imposed upon her. She had no illusions about her fate in Hhune’s hands, and she turned her gaze to the Tethyrian’s face.

“Well, let us be off,” he said evenly. “We’ve a long journey ahead.”

Moving like one who slept, Lucia followed the guildmaster down the back stairs and into the carriage that waited there. Lord Hhune’s mood—which was neither the gloating triumph nor the violent rage she would have expected, but a cynical and perverse amusement—terrified her.

“What will you do with me?” she asked in a low voice.

“I thought it might be entertaining to bring a member of the hated royal family back to Tethyr,” Hhune mused, his black eyes glittering as he regarded her. “It is fitting, is it not? After all, you should be paid in coin of your own choosing.”

With those words, the Tethyrian tapped the glass on the front of the carriage. The horses lurched forward on the long road southward.

As soon as the elven priests took Elaith into their care, Danilo and his friends hurried toward the marketplace. The Harper was relieved that his task was completed, but he could not be at ease until he learned the full extent of the elfsong spell’s reversal. If Khelben had not recovered when the spell was lifted, the Harper’s victory would be incomplete and empty.

There was little standing room left when the trio arrived. A firm hand settled on Danilo’s shoulder, and the Harper looked up into the grave, handsome face of his friend Caladorn. Relief flooded him.

“Mystra be praised, you’re all right! I can’t tell you how glad I am that I was wrong, Caladorn.”

“You were not wrong,” the young man said softly. “I was, and I wish to make peace with you.” Danilo took the hand offered him and clasped it briefly. “The Lady Laeral has told me all that has transpired, and your part in it,” Caladorn concluded. He smiled faintly. “Finally, Dan, you have a bard’s tale that is worthy of your talents!”

Before Dan could question him about Khelben, Caladorn hurried off into the crowd. With a deep sigh, Danilo turned his attention to the platform. Soon Lord Piergeiron and fifteen masked and robed Lords proceeded in and seated themselves on the raised platform. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, silencing immediately as Piergeiron rose to address the assembly.

“Good people of Waterdeep. It has been a long and troubling day, and much has happened in the last few weeks. Before the Shieldmeet alliances are made, many questions must be laid to rest about these strange events. One of the Lords of Waterdeep has related to me a wondrous tale. I am not an orator, though, and only a bard could do justice to this story.”

The First Lord paused and smiled. “I call upon Danilo Thann.”

This unexpected summons lifted Dan’s heart. Surely this meant that Khelben had been released from his magical sleep, for only Khelben knew all that had occurred! Then he remembered Caladorn’s knowledge of recent events, and this assumption wasn’t good enough for him.

Beside him, Morgalla stamped and hooted, drawing attention to the bard at her side. The people around burst into loud huzzahs and enthusiastic applause, and they made way for Dan to pass.

The warmth and the acclaim strangely chilled the Harper, for it could only indicate that the elfsong spell had not been entirely banished. Shouldn’t his reputation have perished along with the spell?

With Morgalla firmly pushing him from behind, Danilo made his way toward the middle of the marketplace. Seeing that he had no instrument, a beautiful, golden haired elf pressed her harp into his hands, bidding him with an inviting smile to return it whenever he wished.

As he looked at the instrument, inspiration struck Danilo, and he knew how he could ascertain Khelben’s fate. He thanked the elf woman and ascended the platform.

The Harper began to play one of his favorite melodies, and to it he sang an improvised and almost-accurate account of the adventure. Danilo kept the facts in, but he deliberately embellished the tale, adding a comic twist and a ribald suggestion or two.

From the corner of his eye, Danilo saw one of the Lords raise a hand to his helmed forehead in a gesture of exasperation that the Harper knew very well. Joy flooded the young bard’s heart, and the power of elfsong crept unbidden into his voice.