"So you'd know this page boy if you saw him again?"
"I would." The merchant sat back in his chair more calmly, his eyes fixed on Alustriel's. In the silence between them, there came a muffled sound from some shy;where near, as of a door closing. Oscalar Maerbree lifted his head for a moment, then asked, "Someone's killed the tradelord? How?"
"I don't yet know that," Alustriel said carefully, "and might not tell you if I did. Would you like a drink, Oscalar?"
The merchant regarded her expressionlessly for the space of a long breath, then said, "No. I don't believe I would, given the circumstances."
"And why is that?" the High Lady asked, her voice silken soft.
The fat merchant lifted one large, blunt-fingered hand, stared at his palm for a moment, then told it, "I'd like to make my own death as difficult an achievement as possible."
The door Oscalar had come in by opened without warning, and the burly merchant's head whipped around, a dagger coming into his hand with dizzying speed.
The two guards coming through the door saw the flash of the blade and went for their own swords. Steel sang swiftly, but Alustriel came to her feet even faster. "That won't be necessary. Weapons away."
In the silence that followed her ringing shout, the table one guard had thrust aside to charge the mer shy;chant slowly continued its topple over onto its side, landing with a crash.
The two guards stared at Alustriel, and what she was doing. Oscalar was also looking down in disbelief at the slender hand encircling his thick and hairy wrist, its grip as hard and firm as a manacle. He tried to wrench free, but he might as well have been struggling against a stone wall. He could not move his hand, even with a sudden wrench. Staring up at her face, the merchant tried a sudden jerk that had all of his weight behind it. The chair rocked under him, but his hand was held in one place as if frozen there.
Alustriel gave him a gentle smile. "Let go of the knife, Oscalar," she said, in a mother's chiding tones.
A slow, dark flush crept across the merchant's face, but he opened his fingers and let the blade fall.
Alustriel let go of his wrist, picked up the dagger heedless of his proximity to her bending body, and inspected it.
"You do know sleep-salarn-as a poison-is unlawful in Silverymoon, don't you?" she said.
Oscalar shrugged, and Alustriel calmly handed him back the dagger. "Put it away," she said, "and mind the salarn is cleaned from it by evenfeast tomorrow."
The merchant gaped up at her. Alustriel gave him a tight smile and turned to address the two armsmen, who were busy erasing clear astonishment from their faces. She remained standing beside Oscalar, within his easy striking distance, as she asked crisply, "Did you conduct this man to the Red Griffon Room earlier this day, to meet with the tradelord from Neverwinter?"
Both of the guards gave Oscalar level looks, and both replied, "Yes, High Lady."
"And conducted him back to his chambers, after?"
"To Glasgirt's Hall, lady," one armsman replied.
"He asked us to take him nigh the kitchens, for an early meal," the other replied.
"And after, you went-?"
"Back to our posts, outside Barsimber's Arch."
"And this man came not past you again, while you were stationed there?"
"No, Great Lady."
"My thanks, good sirs. Return to your duties, and send in the boy you brought hence."
The guards gave Oscalar dubious looks, laid their hands on the hilts of their sheathed swords in dupli shy;cate silent warnings, and did as they were told.
The boy was trembling with awe and terror, but Alus shy;triel gave him a smile and asked gently, "Have you seen this gentleman before?"
"M-many times, Bright Lady. Usually coming out of bedchambers or revels. He's very loud."
Alustriel's merry laugh startled both merchant and page, but she let it fall into another smooth, grave question. "When was the last time you saw him?"
"With the guards, leaving the Red Griffon Room, this day."
"You saw the guards bring him there, before that?"
"Yes."
"You're sure it's this man, and no one else?"
"Yes."
Oscalar seemed about to say something, but Alus shy;triel turned her head and gave him a look that had a dozen daggers in it, and he held silent. She turned back to the page, the long sleeves of her gown swirling.
"Did anyone else enter that room before the Lord Taern?"
"Yes. The steward Rorild; he came out shouting, and Old Thunderspells came. Uh-that is-uh-"
"Old Thunderspells is a splendid name," Alustriel said soothingly, "that I'd be proud to bear myself. Just one question more, now. Did you take a note to this man sitting beside me?"
"No, lady."
"You have my thanks. Go now to the kitchens, and tell them my orders are to let you eat whatever you like, and drink a glass of the finest wine they have ready, and you are off duty tomorrow to recover from your gluttony unless the Lord Old Thunderspells or I send for you."
The page boy's eyes grew as large and round as saucers, and he stammered his thanks and practically sprinted out the door, leaving it open.
Alustriel went to close it, then turned and came back to the merchant.
"Well, Oscalar?" she asked coolly. "What am I to do with you? Or were all those folk lying?"
"I know not," the fat merchant said heavily. "I can only say that I did not slay Muirtree, have never acted against him-and never even went near the tradelord this day."
"Because of a note that boy says he never took to you?" Contempt dripped from Alustriel's tone.
"That was not the boy who brought me the note!" Oscalar roared. "Gods, woman, has your precious palace no other pages?"
Alustriel stared at him for a moment, then went to a wall and pulled a dark cord hanging there. After a moment the door opened again, and a steward came in and bowed. "Great Lady?"
"Summon to me here all of our pages save young Pheldren," Alustriel commanded. "Right now, asleep or awake, on duty or off, sick or well-no exceptions. If they're sick abed dying, bring them priest, bed, and all. I want everyone, in haste."
The steward assured her it would be done, speedily turned, and with wide eyes raced away. Alustriel left the door open this time, and turned back to the mer shy;chant with the barest trace of a smile on her lips. "Are you sure you won't have that drink, Oscalar?"
The wine merchant shrank back in his seat. "Keep away from me, Alustriel," he snapped. "You're up to something. ."
"Oh, put that dagger away, Oscalar," she said wearily. "Here you are alone with the one woman in the High Palace you haven't yet boasted of bedding, with the avowed aim of getting 'a kiss or two' before slumber this even, and instead of trying your charm-lumbering though it may be-you're drawing knives on her. All this though she rules the city around you-the city you dwell and grow rich in. I ask you, Oscalar, is this wise? Is this. . good business? Is this in keep shy;ing with your manly reputation?"
"Lady, I-" Oscalar's white face was now beginning to go purple, and he was trembling. "I–I-oh, gods, shut up, woman, they're starting to arrive."
As page boys flooded into the room, one of the foremost fixed the merchant in the chair with a cold, level gaze and said, "For the rudeness you have just offered our High Lady, I challenge thee, man. Have you a dagger?"
Oscalar Maerbree opened his mouth like a fish gob shy;bling out bubbles, but no sound came out.
Alustriel watched him for a moment, then said to the page, "As a matter of fact, Eirgel, he does … but I forbid challenges in this room, and at this time. I shall, how shy;ever, remember your honor in championing me with pride. Have my gratitude."