But when the hour of evenfeast approached, Arilyn prepared herself to enter Danilo's world. She dressed herself in her one fine gown, a simple shift of deep blue silk with an embroidered overgown that was draped and sashed in a manner that hid her weapon belt, yet gave her quick access to her moonblade. Arilyn arranged her hair so that it covered her pointed ears and applied a bit of rosy ointment to add a more human tint to her white skin. As a final touch, one that would give her an aura of wealth and grant her instant admission to the posh festhouses and taverns that her partner frequented, Arilyn slipped gold-and-sapphire rings onto several of her fingers and fastened a matching jeweled pin onto her bodice.
Danilo had a passion for fine gems and an apparent desire to see her covered with them. After nearly three years, Arilyn had amassed quite a collection. She had declined his first few offerings, but he'd made it a point to learn of elven festivals and special days so that he could press his tokens upon her when it was hardest for her to refuse. Among Danilo's annoying traits-and these were numerous-was his ability to circumvent, if not forestall, nearly any feminine objection. Nor did it escape Arilyn's notice that she possessed a much sterner resistance to his charms than many of the women of Zazesspur did. Or the women of Waterdeep, for that matter. Or Baldur's Gate, or…
With a sigh, Arilyn banished this unprofitable line of thought. She climbed into her hired carriage and settled down for a long evening. Danilo customarily took his evening meal at one of several festhalls or taverns-at her insistence, never in any predictable pattern. Thus it might be some time before she would find him.
The first stop was the Hanging Garden, a tavern fashioned to reflect the tastes and preferences of Zazesspur's current ruler. Arilyn was not fond of the place-it was too much like being in Calimport for her liking-but Danilo came here frequently to enjoy the quality of the wine and the music. Traveling bards, as well as local musicians, performed nightly.
As a hostess dressed in filmy silk draperies ushered the disguised Harper to a table, the strains of a harp mingled with the sounds of soft conversation. As was the current fashion, the harpist played the melody of a ballad through once before joining the strings in song. There was something vaguely familiar about the tune. Arilyn was not one to give much heed to tavern performers, but she listened carefully when the singer-a young woman with the olive skin and dark hair common to natives of Tethyr-began the ballad.
The melody was catchy but common enough, the rippling chords of the harp pleasant but not especially clever, the singer's voice a clear but unremarkable soprano. In all, the music deserved to be no more than an agreeable backdrop to conversation. Yet by the time the ballad entered its third stanza, the Tethyrian woman sang into complete and utter silence.
Arilyn was no bard, but she understood full well the impact of the song. It told a story she knew all too well, even though the facts had been changed to conceal certain secrets and to glorify the alleged hero of the ballad, a nobleman and a bard who had done a great service to the Harpers by bringing to justice-single-handedly, if the ballad was to be believed-the gold elf assassin who caused the deaths of twenty and more of Those Who Harped. As Arilyn watched the listening patrons, she had no doubt that their sympathies fell firmly on the side of the gold elf killer!
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.