Harpers were not welcome in troubled Zazesspur, and Harper heroes were hardly an acceptable subject for tavern tales. A visiting bard might possibly be forgiven for a social blunder of this magnitude, but Arilyn could think of only one reason why a Tethyrian-born singer would risk performing such a ballad: as a dramatic prelude to exposing a Harper in their midst.
Arilyn carefully painted an expression of disdain on her face and rose from her table. She slowly left the tavern, forcing herself to move with the languid stroll of a wealthy lady who had no more compelling purpose than to remove herself from a performance that did not suit her tastes and political inclinations.
She held her sedate pace until she'd reached the dimly lit side street where her hired carriage awaited her. Arilyn tossed a couple of coins to the driver and cut the traces that held her own mare to the carriage. She hiked up her skirts and leaped onto the horse's back. The mare seemed to sense her mistress's urgency, for she fairly flew over the streets that led to the assassins' guildhouse.
Normally Arilyn would have gone back to a safe room to change from her disguise and would have made several additional stops to distract any who might make a connection between the rarified world of high society and the guild of hired killers. She dared not take time for such precautions now. At dusk, the assassins of Zazesspur gathered to bid on the new assignments that were posted nightly. If this ballad had been widely sung, Danilo's name might well be among them.
Seven
Arilyn left the assassins' Council Hall with a large gold coin clamped in her fist and dread chilling her heart- The situation was worse than she had feared. The damning tavern song had spread through the city like lice, and a commission had been placed upon the life of the bard mentioned in the ballad.
Unlike most assignments, this one offered a fee to all and sundry who wished to take up the challenge. A half-dozen fighters had been hired to ensure that no single assassin removed the paper and hoarded the assignment for himself. Apparently speed was of more concern than money. There were many wealthy men and women in Tethyr who would pay dearly to swiftly eliminate even the possibility of Harper involvement in their multi-layered affairs.
Danilo's name had not been mentioned on the pronouncement, but Arilyn knew that the highly skilled assassins of the guild would not need much time to discover his identity. The fact that she had been the first to read the pronouncement did little to ease her mind.
She hurried to her room in the women's guildhouse, changed into her working clothes, and quickly packed her saddlebags with the things she needed for her mission. It was unlikely she would have an opportunity to return.
Without a backward glance at the complex that had been her home for several months, Arilyn rode as swiftly as she dared down the streets that led into the city's most fashionable quarter. Even so, she took a few twists and turns to make certain she was not being followed. Each one took her closer to the Purple Minotaur, the finest and most costly inn in all of Zazesspur.
The half-elf reined her mare to a stop several blocks away from her destination, for she could hardly ride up to the white marble walls that surrounded the garden courtyard and present herself at the arched gate. Assassins were heartily respected in this city, but that regard did not extend to social settings. Many of the Minotaur's guests were wealthy and powerful men- likely recipients of an assassin's blade. The guards posted at the inn's gate were about as likely to give Arilyn access to these guests as poultry farmers would be to invite a fox to dine at will among their hens.
And so Arilyn left her horse-and a handful of silver pieces-at a public stable in the care of an enterprising lad who had a talent for averting his eyes at precisely the right moment. While the boy tended to her mare, Arilyn climbed the ladder that led into the stable's hayloft. A large pile of straw leaned against one wall; this she climbed to the top. The half-elf studied the rough ceiling carefully, then she pulled her sword and used it to push open the nearly invisible trapdoor. She leaped up and grabbed the edge. Quickly she hauled herself up and crawled out onto the flat, tiled roof of the stable.
After replacing the trapdoor, Arilyn stood and surveyed the many levels of the city laid out before her.The rooftops of Zazesspur offered a landscape of their own. Here were paths well-worn by the feet of those who did business in darkness. Although she had been in the city but a few months, Arilyn knew these pathways as well as most of Zazesspur's citizens knew the streets.
Between her and the soaring palace known as the Purple Minotaur lay a festhall, two taverns, the homes of several shopkeepers, the stables that served the posh inn, and the humble dwellings used for the servants and slaves who tended the pampered guests. With practiced ease, Arilyn made her way from rooftop to rooftop.
As she neared the Purple Minotaur, she glanced toward the upper floors of the inn and noticed that Danilo's window was flung open to admit the summer night's breeze-and possibly in the hope of an unexpected visit. Prom the open window wafted the gentle strains of a lute accompanying a well-trained tenor voice.
Arilyn's first response was relief. Danilo was yet safe. For a moment she paused to listen to the faint song and the carefree singer who seemed far removed from the sordid reality of the squalid streets.
For some reason, this solidified Arilyn's resolve. What she intended to do this night would not be easy, but it was a needed thing.
A sliver of new moon rose high into the sky as Arilyn crept across the roof of the Purple Minotaur, but its feeble tight was veiled by the thick sea mist that settled in with the coming of night. On the street far below, dim circles of light clung to the street lanterns, and faint light spilled from the windows of the festhalls and gambling parlors on the lower floors of the building. But where she trod, all was darkness. Danilo's chamber was only two floors down from the roof, a location chosen to allow Arilyn to make her infrequent visits with discretion.
Indeed, her slender figure was barely discernible against the dark sky. The pale skin of her face had been smudged with dark ointment, and she wore the garb of
an assassin: leggings and a loose shirt of an indistinct dark hue that seemed to absorb shadow. In the mist-laden air her black curls clung to her head in damp tendrils, and her only ornament was the sash of pale gray silk at her waist.
Arilyn took a rope of spider silk from her pack and affixed one end firmly to the nearest chimney. She crept to the roofs edge and counted carefully down the rope's knotted length. Holding the rope firmly, she backed up, took a few running steps, and flung herself as far out into the darkness as she could.
As she dropped, she braced herself, accepted the jolting tug that came when the rope snapped taut. Then she swung like a pendulum toward the open window, shifting her weight a bit to adjust her course. At the last possible moment, she pulled up into a tight tuck.
The agile half-elf cleared the window. In one smooth move she released the rope and pulled a dagger from her boot, and then landed in a crouch. Her blue eyes swept the room, checking for danger. Satisfied that all was well, she stood and faced her Harper partner.
The young nobleman had apparently expected her, for he stood facing the window, a smile of welcome lighting his gray eyes and a goblet of elverquisst in each hand.
Arilyn had known Danilo Thann for almost three years now, but she had yet to reconcile herself to the disparity between his public persona and the man she had come to know. Few saw him as anything more than the youngest son of a Waterdhavian noble, a dandy and a dilettante who dabbled in magic and music. It took a keen ear to hear the artistry beneath the bawdy little ballads he composed, a sharp eye to note the ease with which he tossed off his "miscast" spells. But few people were inclined to seek deeply, and as a handsome charmer blessed with a noble's rank and a merchant's heavy purse, Danilo was welcomed in circles that a half-elven assassin could not hope to enter. Although Arilyn