Danilo did not seem to notice her distraction. He knocked on the gate and was promptly answered by the disembodied voice of a servant. “Arilyn Moonblade to see the Blackstaff,” Danilo announced.
Within moments the gate opened and Khelben Arunsun himself came to greet them. “Come in, Arilyn. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” The mage’s gaze fell on her companion. “Oh, it’s you, Danilo.”
“Hello, Uncle Khel,” Danilo replied. “Arilyn needed a spellcaster, so I brought her here.”
Khelben Arunsun’s brow knit as he turned to Arilyn. “And you listened to my frivolous nephew? I hope this is important.”
“It could be.” Arilyn unbuckled her swordbelt and handed the sheathed moonblade to Khelben. “I give you my permission to touch it,” she said, her voice taking on a hint of ritual. “Just make sure you don’t try to take it from the scabbard.”
The archmage accepted the ancient sword and examined it with interest. “Fascinating weapon. What’s all this about?”
“I need to learn everything I can about this sword and its history. Can you help me?”
“I’m no sage, but a legend lore spell might yield some answers,” Khelben said, tucking the moonblade under his arm. “Please follow me.”
The archmage led them into the courtyard. When they reached the tower he motioned for them to follow and disappeared into the wall. When Arilyn hesitated, Danilo unceremoniously pushed her through the hidden door. She glared over her shoulder at him. “I have done this before, you know.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Hmmph.” The half-elf squared her shoulders and stalked into the reception area of Blackstaff Tower.
“Come upstairs,” Khelben said. “We’ll have a better look at your sword up in my spellcasting chamber.”
Arilyn and Danilo followed the archmage up the steep spiral stairway that wound up the center of the tower. When they came to the third and top floor, they stepped into a large, book-lined study. Khelben ushered them through it and opened an oaken door into another, smaller room. A table stood under the chamber’s only window, and in the center of the room a scrying crystal rested on a marble pedestal. There was nothing else in the chamber that could distract the wizard from the process of casting spells.
“Wait here,” Khelben said. He put the moonblade on the table and disappeared through a door.
“Spell components,” Danilo explained to Arilyn. “He keeps his magical supplies in the next room. Very organized, our archmage.”
Khelben reappeared carrying several small items. “Stay over on the far side of the chamber,” he instructed his visitors, “and for the love of Mystra, Danilo, try to hold your tongue. This spell requires a degree of concentration.”
The archmage moved to the table where the moonblade lay and arranged the spell components. Arilyn caught a glimpse of a small white vial that bore Khelben’s sigil.
She bit her lip, suddenly chagrined by the boldness of her request. She’d heard that some spells required the sacrifice of an item of value. For the first time it seemed odd to her that an archmage of Khelben’s stature would cast such a spell for a mere acquaintance, at such cost to himself.
The wizard moved through the words and gestures of the incantation, his hands sure and his voice filled with the resonance of power. At length Khelben unstoppered a second vial, and the dark aroma of incense filled the chamber. The archmage tipped the bottle and spilled its contents over the moonblade. Instantly the spell components disappeared in a flash of light.
Arilyn felt rather than saw Khelben cross the room to stand by her side. All her attention was focused on the moonblade and on the ghostly mist that rose from it. The mist swirled in a quick spiral and then descended to the floor. It coalesced into the image of an elven bard, carrying a small harp and clothed in the robes of an ancient time. Not taking any notice of the trio, the ghostly elf spoke.
“Let those who hear attend the ballad of the elfshadow.” He struck the harp strings and began to repeat a ballad in ringing, rhythmic speech:
The elven bard struck one final chord, then the image and the music faded. “The lyrics aren’t bad,” Danilo commented, breaking the tense silence that hung in the spellcasting chamber. “The tune could use some work, though.”
Khelben turned to Arilyn, who stood pale and still. “Does any of this make sense of you?” She hesitated, then shook her head. “What about you, Dan? Any ideas?”
The nobleman looked astonished. “You’re asking me?”
His comment roused Arilyn from her trance. She managed a faint smile. “Why not? Magic is your specialty, isn’t it?”
“Dan taught me all I know,” Khelben said, echoing the half-elf’s dry humor. “Let’s go downstairs to my parlor and talk this over.” Arilyn picked up the moonblade and followed Khelben down the spiral staircase to a large sitting room, which was furnished with comfortable chairs and decorated by samples of Khelben’s handiwork as an artist. Arilyn sank into a chair and laid the moonblade across her lap, but Danilo walked about the room, idly examining the portraits that covered the walls and stood on easels that had been set up in the corners.
“Could you cast that spell again?” Arilyn asked the archmage.
He took a chair near the half-elf. “Not today. Why?”
“I have to find out all there is to know about the moonblade,” she said tersely. “If you can do no more today, where do I go?”
Khelben rubbed his cheek and considered. “Candlekeep would probably have the most information. They’ve a fine library on elven magical objects.”
The half-elf’s shoulders sagged. “You might as well have said Rashemen,” she said ruefully. “The trip to Candlekeep would take months by land. By sea it could take several tendays, more with the winter storms at hand.”
“As it happens, that won’t be a problem,” Khelben said. “I do a great deal of research there, so I had a dimensional door installed between my library and Candlekeep.” Arilyn looked dubious, so Khelben added, “Take Danilo with you. The boy could be a help to you in your studies. He’s been to Candlekeep with me and he’s familiar with their methods. What do you say, Dan?”
Arilyn and Khelben turned toward the young man, who had been engrossed in the study of one of Khelben’s portraits. He nodded avidly. “Sounds good to me. There’s a rogue elf in Waterdeep devoted to the idea of killing me. I’d just as soon head south until he changes his mind.”
Khelben’s black eyebrows shot up, but Danilo dismissed the mage’s unspoken question with an insouciant shrug. “By the way, what is an elfshadow?” the young man asked.
“I don’t know,” Khelben admitted. “The answers given in response to a legend lore spell are usually cryptic.”
Arilyn suddenly recalled that the mage Coril’s spells had interpreted two runes on the moonblade: elfgate and elfshadow. At the time, it had seemed strange that Kymil Nimesin had failed to do this. Now Arilyn also wondered why Kymil had not attempted to cast a legend lore spell.