At least Khelben was right about one thing: before a single word about her mission could be spoken, she would have to earn the elves' respect. Arilyn had learned years ago that the best route to respect for someone like her-a half-elven female who could not lay claim to family, lineage, or name-was to follow the point of her sword. As a fighter she was very good indeed, but elves were widely renowned for their fighting skills and thus were not easily impressed. Arilyn had taken on many difficult tasks for the Harpers, but this was the first that sounded truly impossible, the first she actually considered refusing.
"I will need time to think about this," she told the archmage's image.
"As I anticipated. The impossible always takes a little longer." Khelben responded with a wry smile as he quoted, of all people, his nephew and apprentice Danilo Thann.
Arilyn responded with a terse nod and then turned away. She did not want to think of Danilo just now, for her Harper partner would not be pleased to learn that she was being courted for a mission that would exclude him. Not, of course, that her departure-if indeed it occurred at all-would come any time soon. This mission would require the type of planning and attention to detail usually lavished on royal weddings or whole-scale invasions.
All thoughts of a night's sleep forgotten, the half-elf left the School of Stealth complex and set out for a waterfront tavern. Word had it that a certain Moonshae captain, a former pirate who liked to keep a hand in his original trade, had docked in Zazesspur the day before. He had a special fondness for valuable documents- both genuine and contrived-and he possessed a knowledge of elven ways that far outstripped the understanding of most humans. Rumor had it that one of his recent female passengers, a green elven druid, had become his friend, perhaps even his lover. Liaisons between wild elves and humans were exceedingly rare, but Arilyn knew this man well and saw how such might be possible. Indeed, rumor had it that his ship, Mist-Walker, was one of only a handful of human vessels ever permitted to make port on the elven island of Evermeet. In short, he was precisely what Arilyn needed.
If she was to pose as a visiting moon elf, she would need some way to explain and legitimize her presence in the Forest of Tethir. If anyone could provide her with the needed forgeries-and perhaps suggest a strategy that would gain her acceptance into the forest community-it would be this sea captain.
The night was warm for early summer, and the salty tang of sweat and the sea hung heavy in the tavern. As usual, the Breaching Whale was crowded with hard-drinking sailors out for a bottomless mug and a bit of fun, and the hard-eyed women who served up both for the price of a few silver coins. It was fairly typical as dockside taverns went, exceptional only for the dozen or so bedchambers over the taproom, which boasted deep feather beds and pristine linens, not to mention a heavily armed guard at each door. Those who knew well the ports of the Sword Coast came to the Breaching Whale for a clean room and a safe night's sleep, luxuries in any city and a rarity in Zazesspur.
Arilyn had no trouble picking Captain Carreigh Macumail out of the crowd. His mass of curly fair hair, his long and neatly braided whiskers, the bright blue-and-green weave of his trademark kilt, the extravagant lace-trimmed ruffles at the throat and cuffs of his white shirt-all these things set him apart from most of the Breaching Whale's rough-clad clientele. He was also by far the largest man in the room. More than three hundred pounds sat easily on a frame that stood just a^ handspan short of seven feet. Seated on a couple of chairs, one massive arm draped over the back of a third chair and his booted feet propped up on a fourth, Macumail sipped at a foam-crested mug as he happily exchanged war stories with a pair of Nelanther pirates.
As the half-elf made her way across the crowded tavern, she noted which heads huddled together over whispered plots, which fighters kept their hands close to their weapons. She declined an offer of entertainment proffered by one of the tavern's few male barhands, and met the measuring stare of a young tough with a cold gaze that sent him back to contemplating the contents of his mug. This was Zazesspur, and tonight all was business as usual.
By way of a greeting, Arilyn kicked the chair out from under Macumail's feet. The captain was standing, dirk held ready in guard position, with a speed that seemed incompatible with his vast size. When his dangerously narrowed gaze settled on Arilyn, his face registered first astonishment, then pleasure.
"Well met again, Lady of the Moonblade!" he said happily in a cultured voice made interesting by a lingering touch of northern Moonshae burr. "Word travels fast in this port. I hadn't thought to see you for another day or so!"
His words brought a puzzled frown to Arilyn's face. "You sent for me?"
"Aye, that I did." He paused and turned to the interested pirates. "It has truly been a pleasure, lads. Permit me to settle the evening's bill as a way of thanking you for the shared tales."
The two men took the hint. Picking up their half-finished drinks and balancing the large trencher of stewed mutton between them, they wandered off in search of an empty table.
Arilyn chose a vacated seat that enabled her to keep her back to the wall. As Captain Macumail summoned a barmaid and ordered wine, she turned the chair around and straddled it, her arms folded over the low-runged back. This posture was not only comfortable, but it provided her with a handy and nonlethal weapon to use in the event of a tavern brawl. No seasoned adventurer escaped her share of those, and Arilyn had learned to swing a chair as handily as she wielded a sword.
"So tell me," she said, to get matters rolling along.
Captain Macumail winked and reached for the flat leather pouch he wore strapped over one shoulder. Tve some fascinating reading for you," he said as he removed a sheaf of papers from the pouch. "Have a look at this, if you will."
The Harper glanced at the parchment that Carreigh Macumail thrust into her hands. The captain had provided her with bogus documents several times before, and each one had held up to the closest scrutiny. This sample was especially well done, from the delicate Elvish script to a reproduction of the seal of the Moonflowers, Evermeet's royal family. It was a masterful forgery.
Arilyn let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Nice work."
"And don't I wish I could take credit for it." Macumail touched the creamy, luminous parchment with some-tiling approaching awe. That, my dear lady, is the genuine article, and it's addressed to you."
The half-elf stared at him. "You can't be serious."
"Read it," he urged. It looks serious enough to me."
"Retreat to the Island Home… find a welcome in the deep forests of Evermeet," Arilyn muttered, scanning the pronouncement and automatically translating from Elvish to the widely used trade tongue known as Common.
At length she lifted incredulous eyes to Macumail's face. "This is from Amlaruil of Evermeet. An official missive, and a commission naming me as her ambassador!"
"Aye, that it is," he agreed. "I took it from her hand myself. The Lady Laeral Silverhand was with the queen. There's a letter from her in that lot, as well."
Laeral Silverhand was one of the few magic-users whom Arilyn trusted and respected. Unlike most arcane scholars, who all too often seemed detached from the world around them and indifferent to the impact their spells might have on others, Laeral possessed a refreshing streak of practicality. A former adventurer and still a bit of a rogue, Lady Arunsun valued results over protocol. She and Arilyn got along just fine, and the half-elf was usually inclined to listen when Laeral spoke.
Still feeling stunned, Arilyn sorted through the pages until she found Laeral's letter. It urged her to act on Queen Amlaruil's behalf, to combine this mission with a task that would soon be offered to her by the Harpers.