Philip Athans - Anthology - 06 Realms of Mystery

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Realms Of Mystery
Edited by Philip Athans
Scanned, formatted and proofed by Dreamcity
Ebook version 1.0
Release Date: January, 30th, 2004
Contents
Elaine Cunningham
....................................................................................................................... Speaking with the Dead
Dave Gross
............................................................................................................................. A Walk in the Snow
Monte Cook
............................................................................................................................... The Rose Window
James Lowder
.................................................................................................................................... The Club Rules
Mary H. Herbert
.................................................................................................................................... Thieves' Justice
Steven "Stan!" Brown
.......................................................................................................... Ekhar Lorrent: Gnome Detective
Jeff Grubb
............................................................................................................... The Devil and Tertius Wands
Richard Lee Byers
......................................................................................................................................................... H
Keith Francis Strohm
.............................................................................................................................. Strange Bedfellows
J. Robert King
.................................................................................................................... Whence the Song of Steel
Brian M. Thomsen
............................................................................................................................. An Unusual Suspect
Peter Archer
.......................................................................................................... Darkly, Through A Glass Of Ale
Thomas M. Reid
............................................................................................................................................... Lynaelle
Ed Greenwood
..................................................................................................... The Grinning Ghost of Taverton Hall
Speaking with the Dead
Elaine Cunningham
The sun began to disappear behind the tall, dense pines of the Cloak Wood, and the colors of an
autumn sunset-deep, smoky purples and rose-tinted gold- stained the sky over the Coast Way.
Tired though they were from a long day’s travel, every member of the south-bound caravan
quickened his pace. While splendidly mounted merchants urged their steeds on and drovers cracked
whips over the backs of the stolid dray horses hitched to the wagons, the mercenary guards loosened
their weapons and peered intently into the lengthening shadows. The trade route was dangerous at any
time, but doubly so at night. Truth be told, however, most of the caravan members lived in greater fear of
their own captain than of any chance-met monster or band of brigands. Elaith Craulnober was not an elf
to be trifled with, and he had bid them make the fortress by nightfall.
"Last hill! Fortress straight ahead!" shouted one of the scouts. The news rippled through the
company in a murmur of relief.
From his position near the rear of the caravan, Danilo Thann leaned forward to whisper words of
encouragement into his tired horse’s back-turned ears. The ears were a bad sign, for the horse could be
as balky as a cart mule. Once they crested the last hill, all would be well. The sight of a potential stable
would spur the horse on as little else could, for he was a comfort-loving beast. He was also a beauty,
with a sleek, glossy coat the color of ripe wheat. Danilo had turned down several offers from merchants
who coveted the showy beast, and had shrugged off a good deal of jesting from the other guards. Dan
felt a special affinity for this horse. The "pretty pony," as the sneering mercenaries called him, had more
going for him than met the eye. He was beyond doubt the most intelligent steed Danilo had ever
encountered, and utterly fearless in battle. His mincing gait could change in a heartbeat to a fearsome
battle charge. In Dan’s opinion, the horse would have been a worthy paladin’s mount, if not for its
pleasure-loving nature and its implacable stubborn streak-both traits that Dan understood well.
He patted his horse’s neck and turned to his companion of nearly four years, a tall, rangy figure who
was wrapped in a dark cloak such as a peasant might wear, and riding a raw-boned, gray-dappled mare.
The rider’s height and seat and well-worn boots suggested a young man of humble means, well
accustomed to the road. This, Dan knew, was a carefully cultivated illusion. This illusion was a needed
thing, perhaps, but he was growing tired of it.
Danilo reached out and tugged back the hood of his partner’s cloak. The dying light fell upon a
delicate elven face, framed by a chin-length tumble of black curls and dominated by large blue eyes,
almond-shaped and flecked with gold. These marvelous eyes narrowed dangerously as they settled on
him. Arilyn was half-elven and all his-or so Danilo liked to think. She was also furious with his latest
foolishness. Danilo, well accustomed to such response, smiled fondly.
Arilyn jerked her hood back up into place. "What in the Nine bloody Hells was that about?" she
demanded, her voice low and musical despite her irritation.
"It seems like days since I’ve had a good look at you. We’ re almost at the Friendly Arm," Danilo
said. His smile broadened suggestively. "The name suggests possibilities, does it not?"
The half-elf sniffed. "You keep forgetting the differences between us. A bard from a noble merchant
clan can travel wherever he pleases, drawing attention but not suspicion. But I am known in these parts
for what I am!"
He dismissed this with a quick, casual flip of one bejeweled hand. "In Baldur’s Gate, certain
precautions were in order. But I hear the gnomes who hold this fortress are admirable little
fellows-easygoing folk who set a fine table and mind their own affairs. And the Friendly Arm is perhaps
the only truly neutral spot within a tenday’s ride. Nothing much ever happens within the fortress walls, so
why should we not relax and enjoy ourselves?"
"We have business to attend," she reminded him.
"I’ m honored that you take your responsibilities to the caravan so seriously," said a new voice, one
slightly lower and even more musical than Arilyn’s and rich with dark, wry humor. The companions
turned to face a silver haired elf, just as he reined his cantering horse into step with Arilyn’s mare. Neither
of them had heard his approach.
Enchanted horseshoes, no doubt, Danilo mused. Elaith Craulnober was known to have a fondness
for magical items, and a wicked delight in keeping those around him off guard. The elf also valued
information. Though Elaith would probably have given Arilyn anything she asked of him, Danilo
suspected that the elf had another motive for allowing a representative of the Thann merchant clan to ride
along with his caravan. Elaith knew that both Danilo and Arilyn were Harpers, and that members of this
secret organization usually had duties far more pressing than acting as caravan guards.
Arilyn mirrored the elf’s faint smile and bantering tone. "I take all my responsibilities seriously," she
said. "Too seriously, if Danilo is to be believed."
In response to that, Elaith lifted one brow and murmured an Elvish phrase, a highly uncomplimentary
remark that defied precise translation into the Common trade tongue. His jaw dropped in astonishment
when both Arilyn and Danilo burst into laughter. After a moment, he smiled ruefully and shrugged. "So,
bard, you understand High Elvish. I suppose that shouldn’t have surprised me."
"And had you known, would you have chosen your words with more tact?" Danilo asked, grinning.
Elaith shrugged again. "Probably not."
The three of them rode in silence for several minutes. Something that for lack of a better term could
be called friendship had grown between the elf and the Harpers, but Danilo never lost sight of the fact
that theirs was a tenuous friendship. They were too different for it to be otherwise. Elaith Craulnober was
a Moon elf adventurer, landowner, and merchant. He had far-flung interests, few of which were entirely
legal, and a well-earned reputation for cruelty, treachery, and deadly prowess in battle. Arilyn was
half-elven, the daughter of Elaith’s lost elven love. She was as focused upon duty as a paladin, and
Danilo suspected that she would not allow a shared history and a common heritage to stay her hand
should Elaith step beyond the bounds of law and honor. Danilo was, on the whole, a bit more flexible
about such things. He had traveled with Elaith when circumstances had enforced a partnership between
them, and they had developed a cautious, mutual respect. But Danilo did not trust the elf. There were too
many dangerous secrets between them, too many deadly insults exchanged, treacheries barely avoided.
At that moment, they crested the hill and the fortress came suddenly into sight. Nestled in a broad
valley just to the east of the trade route, it was a sturdy and defensible holdfast of solid granite. A tall,
thick curtain wall enclosed an austere castle and a bailey big enough to house perhaps a score of other
buildings. This holdfast, once a wizard’s keep, was now a wayside inn held and operated by a clan of
gnomes.
The massive portcullis rose with a whirring of gears-a sure sign of a gnomish devise, noted Danilo.
Most of the holdfast’s inhabitants were simple folk mostly occupied with the maintenance of the castle,
and in recent years a few gnomes from the island of Lantan had settled at the Friendly Arm, bringing with
them the worship of Gond the Wonderbringer and a corresponding fondness for mechanical devices that
were often entertaining and occasionally useful.
At that moment the chain raising the portcullis slipped, and the pointed iron bars plunged downward.
One of the men approaching the gate shrieked and lunged from his horse. He hit the dirt and rolled aside
just as the portcullis came to an abrupt stop, mere inches from its highest point. This brought much
laughter and many rough jests from the other members of the caravan, but Danilo noticed that they all
rode through the gate with more alacrity than usual.
Inside the fortress wall, chaos reigned. The holdfast was home to perhaps three- or four-score
gnomes, hill loving folk small enough to walk comfortably under the belly of Danilo’s tall horse. Most of
the gnomes seemed to be out and about, busily loading goods into the ware- houses, tending horses in a
long, low stable, directing the wagons into covered sheds, or bustling in and out of the many small
buildings, clustered around several narrow alleys, that filled the Friendly Arm’s grass-covered bailey.
Danilo took the opportunity to observe this unusual clan closely. They looked a bit like dwarves,
although somewhat shorter and considerably less broad than their mountain-dwelling relatives. The male
gnomes wore their beards short and neatly trimmed, and the females’ faces, unlike those of bearded
dwarf women, were smooth and rosy-cheeked. All the gnomes had small blue eyes, pointed ears,
extremely long noses, and skin that echoed all the browns of the forest, from the gray-brown of the
duskwood tree to the deeply weathered hue of old cedar. They favored forest shades in their clothing as
well, and the lot of them were dressed in browns and greens-with an adventurous few adding a hint of
autumn color.
They were certainly industrious folk. Nearly every pace of the courtyard was occupied by horse or
wagon, but the gnomes directed the seeming chaos with the ease of long practice. A northbound caravan
had arrived shortly before Elaith’s, and the southerners were still busily securing their goods for the night.
Merchants shouted instructions to their servants in a half dozen southern dialects. A few swarthy guards
loitered about, leaning against the walls and sizing up the newcomers with an eye toward the evening’s
entertainment. In Danilo’s experience, it was always so. The road was long, and travelers were ever on
the lookout for a new tale or tune, some competition at darts or dice or weapons, or a bit of dalliance.
Most of the guards from both caravans had already gone into the castle’s great-hall-turned-tavern, if the
din coming from the open doors was any mdication.
"Shall we join the festivities?" Danilo asked his companion. He handed the reins of his horse to a
gnomish lad-along with a handful of coppers-and then slipped an arm around Arilyn’s waist.
She side-stepped his casual embrace and sent him a warning look from beneath her hood. "I am
supposed to be your servant, remember?" she warned him. "You learn what you can in the great hail,
while I talk to the stable hands."
The young bard sighed in frustration, but he had no argument to counter Arilyn’s logic. He nodded
and turned aside, only to step right into the unsteady path of a stocky, dark-haired man. There was no
time to dodge: they collided with a heavy thud.
The dark, smoky scent of some unfamiliar liqueur rolled off the man in waves. Danilo caught him by
the shoulders to steady him, then pushed him out at arm’s length-after all, one could never be too careful.
The man was unfamiliar to him: a southerner, certainly, with a beak of a nose under what appeared to be
a single long eyebrow, a vast mustache, and skin nearly as brown as a gnome’s. He appeared harmless
enough. He carried no apparent weapons, and his rich clothing suggested a bored merchant whose only
thought was to wash away the dust of a long road with an abundance of strong spirits.
"Are you quite all right?" Danilo inquired politely. "Shall I summon your manservant to help you to
your room?"
The man mumbled something unintelligible and wrenched himself free. Dan watched him stagger off,
then glanced back for a final look at Arilyn and did an astonished double take. She had fallen back into
the shadows between two small buildings and dropped to one knee. There was a throwing knife in her
gloved hand, held by the tip and ready to hurl.
"I know that man," she said by way of explanation as she tucked the knife back into her boot.
"Worse yet, he knows me. He was in the assassin’s guild with me, in Zazesspur."
Danilo swore fervently and joined Arilyn in the shadows. Together they squeezed back into a
narrow, gnome-sized alley. "Well, at least this confirms that we are on the right path," he said in a low,
grim tone. "I suppose it could be mere happenstance that a hired sword from Zazesspur shows up at this
particular time, but it’s my observation that true coincidence is a rare thing-except in Selgauntan opera, of
course..."
Arilyn nodded her agreement and said, "I’ll find out who sent him."
Danilo swallowed the protest that was his first instinct. As Harpers, they played very different roles
and they worked together well. He might hate the idea of Arilyn going up against a trained killer, but he
saw no way around it. She had spent many months posing as an assassin in Tethyr. The competition
among those ranks was fierce and deadly at the best of times, and she had not left the guild under good
terms. It would be to Arilyn’s advantage to chose the time and place for the inevitable battle. And she
was right: they needed to know what had prompted an assassin’s presence in this neutral holdfast. Even if
the assassin’s purpose was not the same as the Harpers’, no one would risk violating the peace of the
Friendly Arm unless the need was dire, or the potential gain great. To do so would bar the doors of the
fortress against the wrongdoers for a gnome’s centuries-long memory. This was a severe penalty in these
troubled lands, which for so many years could claim few truly neutral places.
But as to that, change was in the air. The seemingly endless civil war within Tethyr was winding to a
close. Zaranda Star had been acclaimed queen in the city of Zazesspur, and was on the way to solidifying
her hold on the entire country. To this end, she was preparing for a marriage of convenience to the last
known heir to the royal House of Tethyr. There were factions, however, who used controlled chaos to
their benefit, and who were not inclined to see peace come to their land. When the Harpers learned that
there was a potential challenger to Zaranda’s throne, a distant relative of the soon-to-be- king and thus a
potential bride, they foresaw trouble. Danilo and Arilyn had been sent to find the young woman and bring
her to safety in the Northlands before someone else made her a pawn in a renewed struggle... someone
who might send an assassin to retrieve-or do away with-the unsuspecting girl.
Yes, concluded Dan glumly, Arilyn had no choice but to face the assassin.
"Be careful," he murmured. Before she could protest, he framed her face in his hands and tipped
back her head for a long and thorough kiss.
"You know better than to distract me before battle," she said in a tone that tried for severity, but did
not quite succeed.
Danilo chuckled. "I shall take that as a compliment."
He turned and strode into the castle, his manner far more insouciant than his mood. The prospect of
an evening’s comfort and conversation held little appeal, but this was his role to play and he would attend
to his part no less faithfully than did Arilyn.
Since this was his first visit to the Friendly Arm, he looked around with interest. The great hail had
been set up as a tavern. Long tables and sturdy wooden chairs were scattered about, some of them
gnome-sized, others intended for the comfort of taller travelers. A wild boar roasted on a spit in the
enormous hearth, and kettles of steaming, herb-scented vegetable stews kept warm in the embers along
either side. The air was thick with the fragrance of fresh bread and good, sour ale. Several young women
moved slowly about the room carrying trays and tankards.
Prompted more by habit than inclination, Danilo slid an appraising eye over the nearest barmaid.
She was young, not much past twenty, and blessed with an a bun dance of black hair and truly
impressive curves. The former was left gloriously unbound, and the later were displayed by a
tightly-laced scarlet bodice over a chemise pulled down over her shoulders. Her skirts ended several
flirtatious inches above her ankles, and her black eyes scanned the room. They lit up with an avaricious
gleam when they settled upon the richly-dressed newcomer.
The barmaid eased her way through the crowd to Danilo’s side. A passing merchant jostled her at a
highly opportune moment, sending her bumping into the Harper. She made a laughing apology, then tilted
her head and slanted a look at him through lowered lashes.
"And what can I get you, my lord?"
"Killed, most likely," he said mildly, thinking of the response this flirtation would earn from the
half-elf who was prowling the shadows beyond the brightly-lit hail. "Or severely wounded, at the very
least."
The barmaid’s dumbfounded expression brought a smile to his lips. "Wine, if you please," he
amended. "A bottle of your best Halruaan red, and several goblets."
As she wandered off to relay this order to another bar- maid, Danilo scanned the tables for the
captains of the northbound caravan. Before he could make his way over, he found his path barred by a
stout, stern-faced, white-bearded gnome whose crimson jerkin was nearly matched in hue by an
exceedingly red and bulbous nose.
"Bentley Mirrorshade," the gnome announced.
Danilo nodded. "Ah, yes-the proprietor of this fine establishment. Allow me to intro-"
"I know who ya are," Bentley interrupted in a gruff tone. "Word gets around. There’ll be no fighting
and no spellcasting. Leave yer weapons at the door. Sophie here will peace bind yer left thumb to yer
belt."Danilo winced. "It appears I will never live down that incident in the Stalwart Club."
"Never heard about that one." The gnome nodded to the barmaid who had greeted Danilo earlier.
She fished a thin strip of leather from her pocket and deftly secured the bard’s hand. As she worked,
Danilo scanned the room and noticed that he was not the only one subjected to such precautions: all
known mages were peace bound, and everyone was required to leave weapons at the door.
Danilo made his way to the merchant captains’ table. After the introductions were made, he poured
out the first of several bottles of well-aged wine, and listened as the conversation flowed. Although the
merchants talked a great deal, they said little that informed his cause.
As the night wore on, Danilo found his eyes returning with increasing frequency to the door. His
fellow travelers trickled in as their duties were completed and the caravan and its goods secured. Elaith
was one of the late- corners. Danilo noted with interest that the elf was subjected to peace binding. Few
people knew of the Moon elf’s considerable magical abilities. These gnomes apparently didn’t miss
much-although Dan suspected that Elaith managed to retain a good many of his hidden weapons. The
gnome’s insight was not too surprising. Dan had heard that Bentley Mirrorshade was a highly gifted
mage, specializing in the illusionist’s art.
The evening passed and the hall began to empty as the gnomes and their guests sought their beds.
When Danilo’s patience reached the end of its tether, he left the hail in search of his partner.
He found Arilyn in the stable, currying her mare. She looked up when he came into the stall. Her
face was pale and grim beneath its hood. Fighting came easily to the half-elf-Danilo had never seen
anyone who could handle a sword as well-but killing did not. Even so, Danilo sensed at once that
something else weighed heavily on her mind.
"That took quite a long time," he prompted.
"I had to wait until Yoseff was alone," Arilyn said in a low, furious tone. "He had a meeting. With
Elaith Craulnober." Danilo hissed a curse from between clenched teeth. "Why am I not surprised? Did
you hear what was said?"
"No, nothing. He must have cast a spell of silence, or some such thing."
"Undoubtedly. Now what?" mused Dan, running one hand through his hair in a gesture of pure
frustration. He had investigated Elaith’s purpose in this trip, which was allegedly to acquire exotic goods
from faraway Maztica in the markets of Amn. The elf would make a fine profit selling coffee, cocoa, and
dried vegetables to the merchants of Waterdeep, but he had also arranged to acquire goods that were
restricted or forbidden outright: feather magic, enspelled gems, possibly even slaves. Danilo had
considered this the extent of Elaith’s planned mischief; apparently, he had been wrong.
"And the assassin? What had he to say for himself?"
"Yoseff was never one for conversation," Arilyn said shortly.
"Ah. And he is dead, I suppose?"
"Very. He carried a few things that might help, though." Arilyn reached into the bag that hung from
her belt and took several glittering objects from it. The first to catch Danilo’s eye was a finely wrought
gold locket on a heavy gold chain. A very nice amethyst-brilliant cut, thumb-sized, and deep purple in
hue-was set into the front of the locket and a wisp of fine, black hair was nestled within.
"An amulet of seeking," he surmised, fingering the soft curl. "Hair so soft could only have belonged
to an elf or a baby. I’m guessing the latter. So we not only have a fair idea who the assassin came to find,
but also who sent him-may all the gods damn the woman who would so use her own child!"
Before he could elaborate, a female voice, raised in a keening wail, cut through the night. It was a
chilling sound, an ages old, wordless song of mourning. It spoke of death more clearly than any cleric’s
eulogy, and far more poignantly.
Arilyn bolted from the stable with Danilo close behind her. They dashed through the nearly empty
hail, toward the babble of gnomish voices in a side chamber. A thick-chested gnome barred their way.
He was an odd-looking fellow with hair and skin of nearly matching shades of slate gray. Danilo
recognized him from descriptions as Garith Hunterstock, Bentley’s second-in-command, Though the
gnomish commander was determined to keep them out, the Harpers were tall enough to see over the
heads of the crowd.
In the room beyond, Bentley Mirrorshade lay in a spreading pool of blood. The hilt of a jeweled
dagger rose from his chest.
"No one in, no one out," the gnome gritted out. He raised his voice and began to bellow orders.
"Lower the portcullis and bar the gates! Archers, to the walls! Shoot down anyone who tries to leave the
fortress before the murderer is found."
* * * * *
Later that night, Danilo and his "servant" attended a grim gathering in the castle’s hall. The body of
Bentley Mirrorshade lay in state upon a black-draped table. Candles lined the walls, casting a somber,
golden light.
The crowd parted to allow a green-robed gnome woman to pass. Respectful silence filled the room
as Gellana Mirrorshade, the high priestess of Garl Glittergold and the widow of Bentley Mirrorshade,
made her way to her husband’s bier. She carried herself with admirable dignity. Her pale brown face was
set in rigid lines, but her eyes were steady and dry.
The priestess spoke into the silence. "You are gathered here to see justice done. It is no small thing
to speak with the dead, but an evil deed must not go unpunished."
Gellana began the words and gestures of a complicated ritual. Danilo watched closely; nothing about
the spell was familiar to him. He had studied magic since his twelfth year with no less a teacher than the
archmage Khelben Arunsun, but the magic of a wizard and that of a priest were very different things.
Apparently, the priestess was stifled and devout, for a translucent image of Bentley Mirrorshade slowly
took form in the air above the pall.
"The dead must speak truth," Gellana said softly, "and in life or in death, Bentley Mirrorshade would
tell no direct lie. Tell us, my husband, who is responsible for this death."
The specter’s eyes swept the assemblage. His stubby, translucent finger lifted, swept to the left, and
leveled at Elaith Craulnober with a sharp, accusing stab.
For the first time in their acquaintance, Danilo saw the elf’s composure utterly forsake him. Elaith’s
face went slack and ashen, and his amber-hued eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
"What nonsense is this?" the elf protested as soon as he could gather enough of his wits to fuel
speech. "I am innocent of this thing!"
"Silence!" Gellana demanded. She held a jeweled dagger up for the ghostly gnome’s inspection.
"Was this the weapon used?"
The spectral head rose and fell once, slowly, in a nod of confirmation. Despite the gravity of the
occasion, Danilo could not help but observe that the gnome’s spirit had a remarkable flair for drama.
"And whose dagger is this?" persisted Gellana.
"It belongs to the elf," proclaimed the spirit. It is Elaith Craulnober’s dagger."
Gellana Mirrorshade’s eyes were hard as they swept the gathering. "Have you heard enough? May I
release my husband, and in his name order the death of this treacherous elf?"
A murmur arose, gathering power and fury. The accused elf stood alone in an angry circle of
gnomes, buffeted by a storm of accusation and demands for immediate retribution. Elaith’s eyes went flat
and cool, and his chin lifted with elven hauteur as he faced his death.
That gesture, that purely elven mixture of pride and courage and disdain, was to be his salvation.
Danilo had always been a fool for all things elven, and this moment proved no exception. He sighed and
quickly cast a cantrip that would add power and persuasion to his voice.
"Wait," he demanded.
The single word thrummed through the great hall like a clarion blast, and the gnomes fell suddenly
silent. Garith Hunterstock froze, his sword poised to cut the elf down. Danilo reached out and gently
eased the gnome’s blade away from Elaith Craulnober’s throat. "The elf claims innocence," the Harper
said. "We should at least hear him out, and consider the possibility that he speaks truth."
"Bentley Mirrorshade himself accused the elf’!" shouted a high-pitched gnomish voice from the
crowd.
"The dead do not lie!" another small voice added.
"That is true enough," Dan agreed in a conciliatory tone, "but perhaps there is some other
explanation that will serve both truths." Inspiration struck, and he glanced at Arilyn. She stood near the
back of the room, nearly indistinguishable from the shadows. "Earlier this evening, Elajth Craulnober was
seen meeting with a known thief and assassin. Perhaps this man stole the dagger, and used it to kill the
gnome?"
"That is not possible," Arilyn said flatly. "The assassin was dead before Bentley Mirrorshade’s
murder."
"Dead?" Garith Hunterstock said, turning a fierce glare in her direction. "By whose hand?"
The Harper didn’t flinch. "Mine." she said simply. "He attacked me; I defended myself. You will find
his body behind the smokehouse."
"And who might you be?" demanded the gnome.
The half-elf slipped down her cowl and stepped into the firelight. Before she could speak, a young
gnome clad in forest green let out a startled exclamation. "I know her! She’s the Harper who fought
alongside the elves of Tethyr’s forest. If she says the stiff behind the smoke- house needed killing, that’s
good enough for me. If she speaks for yonder elf, I say that’s call to think things over real careful."
Dozens of expectant faces turned in Arilyn’s direction. Danilo saw the flicker of regret in her eyes as
she met Elaith’s stare, and he knew what her answer would be.
"I cannot," she said bluntly. "On the other hand, it never hurts to think things over. Lord Thann has
apparently appointed himself Elaith Craulnober’s advocate. Give them time-two days, perhaps-to prove
the elf’s claim of innocence. I know of Bentley Mirrorshade, and nothing I’ve heard suggests that he
would want anyone denied a fair hearing."
A soft, angry mutter greeted her words, but no one could think of a way to refute them. Garith
Hunterstock ordered the elf taken away and imprisoned. The others left, too, slipping away in silence to
leave Gellana Mirror shade alone with her dead.
As the sun edged over the eastern battlements of the fortress, Danilo made his way down the tightly
spiraling stairs that led to the dungeon. It was a dank, gloomy place, lit only by an occasional sputtering
torch thrust into a rusted sconce.
Since Elaith was the only prisoner, his cell was not hard to find. Danilo followed the faint light to the
far corner of the dungeon. The elf’s cell was small, the ceiling too low for him to stand upright. The only
furniture was a straw pallet. Elaith wore only his leggings and shirt, and his thumbs were entrapped in
opposite ends of a metal tube, a gnomish device of some sort designed to make spellcasting impossible.
He had been stripped of weapons, armor, and magical items. These lay heaped in an impressive pile, well
beyond reach of the cell.
Danilo eyed the glittering hoard. "Did you actually wear all that steel? It’s a wonder you could walk
without clanking," he marveled.
The elf’s furious, amber-eyed glare reminded Danilo of a trapped hawk. "Come to gloat?"
"Perhaps later," he said mildly. "At the moment, though, I would rather hear what you have to say."
"And you would believe me, I suppose?"
"I would listen. That seems a reasonable place to start." The elf was silent for a long moment. "I did
not kill the gnome."
"You know, of course, how difficult it is for the dead to lie," Danilo pointed out. "The spirit of
Bentley Mirror-shade named you as his killer. The weapon that dealt the killing stroke is yours. The
proof against you is formidable."
"Nevertheless, I am innocent," Elaith maintained. A sudden, fierce light went on in his eyes. "I am
innocent, and you must find proof’!"
"Really, now!" Dan protested, lifting one eyebrow in a wry expression. "Since I have a full two days,
shouldn’t I warm up with an easier task? Pilfering Elminster’s favorite pipe maybe, or bluffing an illithid at
cards, or persuading Arilyn to dance upon a tavern table?"
The elf ignored the obvious irony. "When you signed on to travel with my caravan you promised
your support and aid to the expedition."
"Insofar as its purpose was lawful and just," Danilo specified.
"What better way to fulfill this pledge than to clear an innocent person, unjustly accused? And why
would you speak for me in the tavern, if you had no intention of following through?"
The Harper thought this over. "Those are both excellent points. Very well, then, let’s assume for
argument’s sake that I will take on this task. Consider my dilemma. Even under the best of
circumstances, ‘innocent’ is not the first word that comes to mind when your name is mentioned."
"Perhaps the gnome priestess erred."
"An unlikely possibility, but one I have already considered. Gellana Mirrorshade permitted me to
test the murder weapon myself," the Harper said. "I cast the needed spell not once, but three times. Each
time the result was the same. The dagger is indisputably yours, and it was indeed responsible for the
killing stroke. Now, I understand that most people would hardly consider my command of magic
sufficient to such a task-"
"Save your breath," Elaith said curtly. "I have seen what you can do. Your command of magic
exceeds my own. If it suits you to play the fool and muck about with minstrels, that is your affair."
"Enough said, then. Let’s consider the murder weapon. Was the dagger ever out of your keeping?
Did you entrust it to another? Loose it in a game of dice? Anything?"
Elaith hesitated, then shook his head. "I didn’t even notice it was missing," he said ruefully. With a
grim smile, he nodded to the pile of weapons outside his cell. "I carry several, you see."
The Harper folded his arms. "The situation is bleak, make no mistake about it. But it might interest
you to learn that I, too, seem to be without an item or two. It would appear that there is a very talented
pickpocket at work here. I was jostled by the assassin," Arilyn dispatched, "and you were seen meeting
with. And speaking of which, is there anything you would like to tell me about that?"
"No."
"I had to ask," Danilo commented. "As I was saying, this assassin would be my first suspect. It is
possible that he had a partner."
"That is a place to start," the elf allowed. "Then you will do it? You will honor your pledge?"
"Well, since you put it that way. . . ." Danilo said dryly. "But don’ t get your hopes too high. Arilyn
has bought us some time, but not much."
Elaith’s gaze faltered. "She believes that I am responsible."
The Harper didn’t deny it. Arilyn had had a great deal to say about Danilo’s defense of the rogue
elf. Dan’s ears still burned from the heat of their argument. "My lady is occasionally more elven than she
realizes," he said dryly.
This earned a small, wry smile from Elaith. "If she could not be supportive, at least she has been fair.
More than fair. I don’ t suppose my other employees have followed her example."
"The caravan guards have already drawn their pay from the quartermaster, and plan to scatter once
the gates of the city are opened. Forgive me, but the prevailing attitude seems to be that this is a long
overdue justice."
The elf was silent for a moment. "I am not unaware of the irony in my situation," he said finally, "but I
maintain that I am innocent of this murder. Go now, and prove it!"
* * * * *
That morning, over a breakfast of bread, cheese, and newly-pressed cider, Danilo related the
conversation to Arilyn. "And I have but two days to accomplish this miracle," he lamented in conclusion.
"You couldn’t have asked for a tenday?"
The half-elf sighed and stabbed a piece of cheese with her table knife. "I doubt it would help. You
know Elaith as well as anyone, and you know he could have killed that gnome. He nearly killed you
once."
"Three times, actually, but why quibble?" Arilyn cast her eyes toward the ceiling. "Why do you
persist in this?"
"Two things keep me from giving up: my promise to help Elaith, and the task that brought us here,"
he said quietly.
His partner nodded, accepting this reasoning. "What do you propose to do?"
"You’ re not going to like this," Danilo cautioned, "but we could ask the priestess to speak to the
spirit of the dead assassin. We need to know who he was working for, and who he was working with."
Arilyn’s lips thinned. "You know elves do not believe in disturbing the dead."
"But gnomes do. Gellana Mirrorshade can hardly deny us this, considering that she called back her
own husband’s spirit. And what other course could we take?"
"Nearly any would be preferable," the half-elf grumbled, but Danilo read the surrender in her eyes
and tone. He tossed several silver coins on the table to pay for the meal and followed Arilyn out of the
tavern. One of the dark haired barmaids glided forward to clear the table and pocket the coins. The
barmaids were hardworking girls, Danilo noted, recognizing several faces familiar from the night before.
Retrieving the assassin’s body was an easy matter. The gnomes had simply tossed it into the midden
wagon along with the remnants of the wild boar they had roasted for their guests the night before, some
chicken bones, and an over-ripe haunch of venison. The gnomes regularly removed any leftovers to the
forest to feed the animals who lived there, and to return their bounty to the land. They gave the dead
assassin no less respect, and no more.
Danilo wrinkled his nose as he shouldered the dead man. "I can see why Gellana didn’t want to do
the ritual on site. That venison should have been buried long ago."
"The same could be said of Yoseff," retorted Arilyn, "but that’s another matter. Don’t you think it
odd that Gellana Mirrorshade told us to bring his body to the temple?"
Her partner immediately seized her meaning. "Come to think of it, yes," he agreed as he fell into step
beside her. "Gellana Mirrorshade summons her own husband’s spirit in a tavern. Why would she afford
greater honor to a human assassin? Perhaps she feared that the curious tall folk who gathered at last
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RealmsOfMysteryEditedbyPhilipAthansScanned,formattedandproofedbyDreamcityEbookversion1.0ReleaseDate:January,30th,2004ContentsElaineCunningham.......................................................................................................................SpeakingwiththeDeadDaveGross...............

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