goddess.”
The ire faded from Laerel’s silver-green eyes as she met Khelben’s somber gaze. “You’re saying that wherever Liriel goes, Lolth is likely to follow.”
“That is my fear,” Khelben agreed. “It has been long years since the drow goddess turned her attention to the surface world. Liriel must be followed and if necessary stopped.”
“Very well.” Danilo took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Allow me a hour or so to pack, and I’ll be off.”
The archmage shook his head. “Not you, Dan, not this time. The elves of the Pantheon Temple have an agent of their own.”
Khelben turned his gaze toward the chamber door. His apprentice appeared in response to his silent summons. “Bid our guest attend.”
In moments Sharlarra returned, a tall female elf at her side. The newcomer was raven-haired, clad in well-worn leathers and a chain-mail vest and armed with sword and bow. Her long black hair was loose except for one silver lock, which had been gathered into a neat braid.
“This is Thorn, a champion of Eilistraee, lately come from Ruathym,” Khelben announced. “You will leave this matter in her capable hands.”
“As you say, Uncle,” Danilo agreed. He turned his most charming smile upon the newcomer. “It’s a great relief to know that Liriel has made friends among Eilistraee’s own.”
“As to that, I could not say,” the elf responded in a husky, oddly accented voice. “I never met her.”
“But you have come from Ruathym?”
“What of it? She is a quarry, not a comrade.” The elf’s strange eyes, a color more gold than green, narrowed at him. “Most humans outgrow the need to ask endless questions when they leave childhood behind. Or perhaps it just appears to be so because the inquisitive seldom survive for long.”
“You say that as if it were a warning,” Danilo observed.
In a lightning-quick move, the elf swept her bow off her shoulder and sent an arrow spinning toward the young man. It dived between his boots, piercing the ancient oak planking and quivering fast enough to produce an audible hum.
“That,” she said, “was a warning.”
Danilo took a careful, belated step backward. “What bard or diplomat in all of Waterdeep could match elven subtlety?” he said in admiring tones. “Obviously, the good archmage is quite right: I must not meet our drow friend at the harbor. Lady Huntress, my Lord and Lady Arunsun, lovely Sharlarra, I bid you all a good day.”
The rainbow layers of the illusionary map filtered over him as he bowed deeply, first to the elf warrior then to the wizards. As he strode from the room, he gave Laerel a friendly kiss on the cheek and Sharlarra a kiss that was friendlier still. The elf girl watched him go, then sent an inquiring glance at her mistress.
Laerel sent her apprentice off with an absent-minded wave and turned her attention to the warrior. “It has been long years since the Dark Maiden took a champion.”
“You know the history of the People,” Thorn observed. “You must also know that an equal amount of time has passed since Lolth granted the powers of a Chosen to any mortal.”
The color drained from Laeral’s face. “You don’t mean to suggest that Liriel…”
“I do not suggest,” the elf said coldly. “I know. I saw. Her path led to Skullport then out to sea. I followed until my ship was captured by sea ogres. Those aboard who were not killed were imprisoned in the undersea realms of Ascarle. A band of sea elves freed the prisoners and led us through a magical gate to Ruathym. We joined the battle between the Northmen of Ruathym and Luskan. I saw this drow channel the power and fury of Lolth against the invaders.”
“Then Caladorn did well to persuade the captain to dock in Waterdeep,” Khelben said. “Lolth’s power will be considerably stronger in the underground city.”
Laerel’s eyes widened. One slender hand flew to the cheek Danilo had kissed.
The archmage noted her chagrin.
The ire faded from Laerel’s silver-green eyes as she met Khelben’s somber gaze. “You’re saying that wherever Liriel goes, Lolth is likely to follow.”
“That is my fear,” Khelben agreed. “It has been long years since the drow goddess turned her attention to the surface world. Liriel must be followed and if necessary stopped.”
“Very well.” Danilo took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Allow me a hour or so to pack, and I’ll be off.”
The archmage shook his head. “Not you, Dan, not this time. The elves of the Pantheon Temple have an agent of their own.”
Khelben turned his gaze toward the chamber door. His apprentice appeared in response to his silent summons. “Bid our guest attend.”
In moments Sharlarra returned, a tall female elf at her side. The newcomer was raven-haired, clad in well-worn leathers and a chain-mail vest and armed with sword and bow. Her long black hair was loose except for one silver lock, which had been gathered into a neat braid.
“This is Thorn, a champion of Eilistraee, lately come from Ruathym,” Khelben announced. “You will leave this matter in her capable hands.”
“As you say, Uncle,” Danilo agreed. He turned his most charming smile upon the newcomer. “It’s a great relief to know that Liriel has made friends among Eilistraee’s own.”
“As to that, I could not say,” the elf responded in a husky, oddly accented voice. “I never met her.”
“But you have come from Ruathym?”
“What of it? She is a quarry, not a comrade.” The elf’s strange eyes, a color more gold than green, narrowed at him. “Most humans outgrow the need to ask endless questions when they leave childhood behind. Or perhaps it just appears to be so because the inquisitive seldom survive for long.”
“You say that as if it were a warning,” Danilo observed.
In a lightning-quick move, the elf swept her bow off her shoulder and sent an arrow spinning toward the young man. It dived between his boots, piercing the ancient oak planking and quivering fast enough to produce an audible hum.
“That,” she said, “was a warning.”
Danilo took a careful, belated step backward. “What bard or diplomat in all of Waterdeep could match elven subtlety?” he said in admiring tones. “Obviously, the good archmage is quite right: I must not meet our drow friend at the harbor. Lady Huntress, my Lord and Lady Arunsun, lovely Sharlarra, I bid you all a good day.”
The rainbow layers of the illusionary map filtered over him as he bowed deeply, first to the elf warrior then to the wizards. As he strode from the room, he gave Laerel a friendly kiss on the cheek and Sharlarra a kiss that was friendlier still. The elf girl watched him go, then sent an inquiring glance at her mistress.
Laerel sent her apprentice off with an absent-minded wave and turned her attention to the warrior. “It has been long years since the Dark Maiden took a champion.”
“You know the history of the People,” Thorn observed. “You must also know that an equal amount of time has passed since Lolth granted the powers of a Chosen to any mortal.”
The color drained from Laeral’s face. “You don’t mean to suggest that Liriel…”
“I do not suggest,” the elf said coldly. “I know. I saw. Her path led to Skullport then out to sea. I followed until my ship was captured by sea ogres. Those aboard who were not killed were imprisoned in the undersea realms of Ascarle. A band of sea elves freed the prisoners and led us through a magical gate to Ruathym. We joined the battle between the Northmen of Ruathym and Luskan. I saw this drow channel the power and fury of Lolth against the invaders.”
“Then Caladorn did well to persuade the captain to dock in Waterdeep,” Khelben said. “Lolth’s power will be considerably stronger in the underground city.”
Laerel’s eyes widened. One slender hand flew to the cheek Danilo had kissed.
The archmage noted her chagrin.
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