"Hmmmm. I'll need something truly vulgar to use as a spell component," Danilo mused. His gaze fastened on Regnet's pendant, a rendering of the Amcathra crest in sparkling red and blue stones. "Oh, I say, Regnet, that will do splendidly."
Regnet pretended to wince at the good-natured insult, but he handed over the bauble. His friend began the spell, chanting the arcane words and gesturing broadly. Finally Danilo tossed the pendant into the air, and the show climaxed in a loud pop and a puff of multi-colored smoke.
When the smoke cleared, the young nobles stared at Regnet in a moment of stunned disbelief. Then their laughter echoed throughout the hall. The spell had turned his colorful finery into the drab brown robes of a druid.
Danilo's eyes widened in mock dismay. He rocked back a pace and folded his arms across his chest. "Hmm. Now, how did that happen?" he murmured, raising one hand to tap reflectively at the highly decorative cleft in his chin.
Regnet's face was a study of astonishment as he regarded his unfashionable ensemble, and his chagrin sent his friends into new peals of mirth. Suddenly the laughter died, and a nervous silence fell over the merry group.
A tall, burly man approached their corner. Unlike most of the party-goers, this man was dressed in solemn black, his only ornaments a silver torque and a cape lined with fine gray fur. His black hair was streaked with gray, and his brow was knit in disapproval.
"Uh-oh," murmured Myrna, her eyes brightening with glee at the thought of impending disaster. Another of their number, a young nobleman deeply into his cups, blanched at the sight of the stern newcomer and edged out of range.
Danilo, however, raised a hand in delighted greeting. "Uncle Khelben! Just the person we need. That last bit of magic went awry. Can you show me where I went wrong?"
"I wouldn't presume," Uncle Khelben said dryly. "It would seem, Danilo, that we need to have another little talk." He took a firm hold of the dandy's glitter-speckled arm and glared around the circle of nobles.
The gay assemblage took the hint and scattered like a flock of startled birds, muttering excuses as they went. This would not be the first time that Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun, arch-mage and reputed member of the secret circle that ruled Waterdeep, had chastised his frivolous nephew over the irresponsible use of magic, and Danilo's friends did not care to witness the coming lecture.
"Cowards, all of them," Danilo mused as he watched the rapid retreat of his friends.
"Forget them. We have more important matters to discuss."
Danilo grimaced and captured two goblets of Sparkling Evermead from the tray of a passing waiter. He thrust one of the goblets into his uncle's hand. "Here, take this. I suppose it's safe to assume that you'll be as dry as usual."
Khelben's dour response was drowned out by a delighted squeal.
"Danilo, you're back!" A tipsy young noblewoman, dressed in an incongruous mixture of sheer lace and white furs, launched herself at the green-clad dandy.
Adept at avoiding wine stains on his finery, Danilo held his goblet out at arm's length as he caught the attractive missile in a careful, one-armed embrace. "I've counted the minutes, Sheabba." He smiled into her upturned face.
The blond woman wrapped her arms around his waist and giggled up at him. "Of course you have. I suppose you've been charming all the women from here to Suzail?"
"Fertilizing the fields, more likely," interjected Khelben in a sour tone.
"Bray elsewhere, old donkey," Sheabba snapped. She threw a withering look at the mage, then recoiled in mortification as she realized whom she had insulted.
Danilo noted her dismay and came quickly to her rescue. "You'll be at the festival games tomorrow, Shea, won't you? Oh, marvelous. I'll have to ride in one or two events, but a group of us are getting together at the Broken Lance afterward for drinks. My treat. Meet me there?"
The young woman managed a weak nod of agreement, then she took flight, weaving unsteadily through the crowd.
Danilo sighed noisily and shook his head. "Really, Uncle, the effect you have on women is beyond belief. Don't despair. I've been working on this new spell, don't you know, that might do your social life a world of-Hey, mind the silk!"
Khelben had once again seized Danilo's arm. Ignoring the young man's sputtering protests, the mage drew his nephew out of the room and into a secluded alcove.
Once released, Danilo leaned against a marble bust of Mielikki, Goddess of the Forest, and arranged his cape in artful folds before addressing himself to his glowering uncle. "To what do I owe the honor of this abduction?"
"You've heard about Rafe Silverspur." Khelben was not given to lengthy preambles.
Danilo took a sip of his wine. "No, can't say that I have. What's the good ranger doing these days?"
"Very little. He's dead."
Danilo paled, and a look of remorse washed over Khelben's face. The wizard continued in a gentler tone, "I'm sorry, Dan. I'd forgotten that Rafe and you had become good friends."
The young man nodded acknowledgement. His face was without expression, but he studied the bubbles in his glass for a long moment before he looked up.
"Branded, I suppose?" Danilo's voice was flat, all hint of the lazy drawl gone.
"Yes."
"Rafe Silverspur," Danilo repeated in a distant voice. "Your death will be avenged, my friend."
The vow was spoken quietly, yet no one could hear it and doubt that it would come to pass. Danilo's voice rang with quiet strength and stubborn resolve. Anyone who saw the young noble at this moment would have had a hard time equating him with the smug dandy known to Waterdeep society. His handsome face was dark with fury as he turned to the mage, but his rage was held in check by a control as remarkable as it was unexpected.
"How did he die?"
"Same as all the others-in his sleep, for all we can tell," Khelben responded. "If a ranger as good as young Silverspur could be taken unaware, it's no wonder the Harpers are running around in circles after this assassin."
"The search, I take it, is not going well."
"No," the mage admitted. "That's where you come in."
Dropping back into his foppish persona, Danilo crossed his arms and quirked one eyebrow. "Somehow I knew you'd get around to saying that."
"Indeed," Khelben agreed dryly, recognizing that his nephew's manner covered strong emotion.
"Naturally, you have a plan," Danilo prompted.
"Yes. I've been following the assassin's route, and a pattern is starting to emerge. It leads here." Khelben reached into a pocket and drew out a pewter-framed miniature.
Danilo accepted the portrait and studied it, then whistled in appreciation. "You did this? By the gods, Uncle, there may yet be some hope for you as an artist."
The young man's teasing brought a faint smile to Khelben's face. "I did not know you were a connoisseur of art."
"Art, no. Women, definitely," Danilo said fervently, his eyes still fixed upon the portrait. The subject was a woman of rare and exceptional beauty. Curly raven-black hair framed the perfect oval face and contrasted with her creamy white skin. Her cheekbones were sharp and high, her features sculpted by a delicate hand. Most extraordinary were her eyes, almond shaped and vividly green. Danilo was highly partial to green.
"Does she really look like this, or did you take artistic license?" Danilo asked.
"She really looks like that," Khelben confirmed. He cocked his head and amended cryptically, "Well, sometimes she looks like that."
Danilo glanced up, his brow furrowed. He shook his head to rid himself of the temptation to pursue the subject and got back to the business at hand. "Besides being the future mother of my children, who is this beauty?"