Myrin Silverspear, the inn's proprietor, was a dour, silent moon elf whose silver eyes missed nothing. He kept his own council better than anyone Arilyn had ever met, and his cozy establishment seemed designed especially with discretion in mind. As a result, the Halfway Inn was ever abuzz with intrigue, dealmaking, and clandestine meetings.
Arilyn always stopped here on her way into Evereska, to receive assignments or to meet contacts. For no reason that she could fathom, Myrin Silverspear had taken a special interest in her and her career. Whenever she stayed at the inn, he looked after her as if she were elven royalty.
As usual, he met her at the foot of the stairs with a low bow. "Your presence honors this house, Arilyn Moonblade. Is there anything that you require this evening, quex etriel?"
As usual, Arilyn winced at the extreme deference of his greeting. "Just to be seen."
"I beg your pardon?"
Arilyn grinned. "Let's just say that I'd like to be seen coming into the inn, but not going out."
"Ah. Of course." As usual, that was explanation enough for the discrete innkeeper. He took her arm and escorted her with grave ceremony to the large bar. She took one of the most conspicuous barstools, and Myrin made a show of going behind the bar and serving her himself.
Arilyn sipped at the elven spirits he'd poured her and fought back a surge of laughter. "Thank you, Myrin. I've definitely been seen."
"Not at all. Anything else?"
"Do I have any messages?"
Myrin produced a small scroll and handed it to her. "This came just this afternoon."
She glanced at the seal, and her mood darkened. With a sigh, she took the scroll from the innkeeper, opened it, and scanned the fine, precise elven runes. Kymil wanted to meet her here, tonight. That would most likely mean that the Harpers had given him another assignment for her, just when she was so looking forward to getting back home to Evereska. Another unconscious sigh escaped her.
"Good news, I trust?"
Arilyn looked up into Myrin's concerned silver eyes. "You might not think so. Kymil Nimesin is meeting me here tonight, at the usual place."
The moon elf received her announcement without blinking. "I'll see that your usual booth is cleared."
"You're a diplomat, Myrin," Arilyn murmured. Little love was lost between the proud innkeeper and the patrician arms-master, but Myrin Silverspear always received Kymil with the utmost courtesy. To Arilyn's puzzlement, Kymil treated the innkeeper with considerably less respect.
"So I have been told," Myrin said. With another bow, he excused himself to see to Arilyn's booth. She went upstairs to get the artifacts she'd retrieved from Darkhold, then returned to the tavern and made her way to the back of the large room where she slipped inside a heavily curtained booth.
Almost immediately tiny motes of light flickered over the bench opposite her. The golden pinpricks broadened, expanded, and finally coalesced into the form of her longtime friend and mentor, Kymil Nimesin.
"Your mode of entering a room never ceases to unnerve me," Arilyn murmured with a smile of welcome for her teacher.
The elf dismissed her comment absently. "A simple matter. Your last venture went well, I trust?"
"If it didn't, I wouldn't be sitting here." She handed him the sack containing the artifacts. "Will you return these to Sune's people and see that our informant gets the rest of his money?"
"Of course." After a brief silence Kymil attended to the amenities. "I heard of Rafe Silverspur's death. A shame. He was a good ranger, and the Harpers' cause will miss him."
"As will I," she replied softly. Kymil's words were a polite formula required by convention; hers revealed genuine emotion. She looked up sharply. "How did you hear about Rafe's death so quickly?"
"I was concerned about you, so I made inquiries."
"Oh?"
Kymil regarded his pupil keenly. "You know, of course, that the assassin was looking for you."
Arilyn stared down at her clenched hands. "I've come to that conclusion, yes," she said evenly. "Now, if you don't mind, could we please speak of other matters? Have you another assignment for me?"
"No, I called the meeting to discuss the assassinations," Kymil said. He leaned forward to emphasize his words. "I'm concerned about your safety, child. You must take steps to protect yourself from this assassin."
Her head jerked up, and anger flooded her face. "What would you have me do? Hide?"
"Far from it," Kymil corrected her sternly. "You must seek out this assassin."
"Many seek him."
"Ah, but perhaps they are looking in the wrong places. As a Harper agent, you can succeed where others fail. In my opinion, the assassin hides within the ranks of the Harpers."
Arilyn drew in a sharp breath. "The assassin, a Harper?" she demanded, incredulous.
"Yes," Kymil noted. "Or a Harper agent."
She considered her teacher's words and nodded slowly. It was an appalling possibility, but it made sense. The Harpers were a confederation of individuals, not a highly structured organization. Harper agents-those like Arilyn who were not official members of the group, but worked on particular assignments-tended to operate alone, and many of the members kept their affiliation secret. It seemed incredible to Arilyn that this veil of secrecy could be turned against the Harpers, cloaking an assassin in their very midst. On the other hand, she had grown to trust Kymil Nimesin's judgment. He had been allied with the Harpers since she was an infant, and if he thought that the Harper Assassin was within the ranks she was inclined to believe him.
Kymil's urgent voice broke into her reflections. "You must find this assassin, and soon. The common people hold Harpers in high regard. If we cannot find and stop the murderer, it will damage the Harpers' honor and reputation."
The gold elf paused. "Have you any idea of the implications of this? Why, the Balance itself could be disrupted! The Harpers serve a vital function in fighting against evil, in particular the encroachments of the Zhentarim-"
"I know what the Harpers stand for," Arilyn said with a touch of impatience. Kymil had lectured her on the need for Balance since she was fifteen, and she knew his arguments by heart. "Have you a plan?"
"Yes. I would suggest that you go among the Harpers, in disguise if necessary, to ferret out the assassin."
Arilyn nodded. "Yes, you might be right." A slight, humorless smile flickered across her face. "At any rate, it is better than doing nothing. Just waiting for the assassin to strike is intolerable. I can't keep at it much longer."
"Why is it that you seem so unnerved by this threat? Your life has been in danger many times." Kymil paused and eyed her keenly. "Or is there something else?"
"There is," she admitted reluctantly. "For some time now-several months, actually-I've had the sense that I'm being followed. Try as I might, I can find no trace of pursuit."
"Yes?"
She'd expected him to reproach her, or at least to question her regarding her inability to lay hands upon her shadowy pursuer. "You don't seem surprised by this," she ventured.
"Many Harpers are highly accomplished rangers and trackers," Kymil responded evenly. "It's not inconceivable that this assassin, especially if he or she is from the Harper ranks, is skilled enough to avoid detection-even by someone as skilled as you. All the more reason, I believe, for you to take the offensive. Agreed?"