Suddenly the task was harder than Elaith had antic shy;ipated. The elf turned aside and clasped his hands behind his back. "I heard of the loss to your family. I am sorry."
Danilo's eyes clouded with grief, as well as a flicker of anger. "No loss to my family," he said shortly, "but on Lilly's behalf and my own, I thank you for your sympathy."
"Sympathy is a cheap gift. In your position, I would prefer vengeance," the elf said. "You have the look of a hound that's picked up the fox's scent."
"A skunk, more like it. Yes, I will run this vermin to ground."
The elf expected this response, but he did not like the grim set of the man's face. He recognized that look of absolute, relentless stubbornness. Once, those traits had saved Elaith's life. He feared that now they could mean the end of Danilo's.
"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," he said, school shy;ing himself to feel no remorse over the sudden leap of hope and gratitude in the man's eyes. Help he would give, but to the fox and not the hound. Better to send Danilo off following another scent than to allow him to come too close to the heart of the matter. If the hound lived to hunt another day, he reasoned, the Mhaorkiira's master would find a suitable use for him.
"You know that I do considerable business in the Dock Ward. I have some knowledge of the young woman," he said. "She had a sporting nature, and from time to time she found her way into my gambling dens. Since I make a point of knowing my customers, I learned her name, if not her heritage. But she has more in common with you than appearance might indicate."
"The point, please, and swiftly," Danilo implored.
"It will not be easy to hear," the elf cautioned. "More than once, I have seen her in the company of one of your peers. A friend of yours, I believe."
The flash of stunned recognition, the sudden bleak flood of loss and then the cleansing surge of anger, told Elaith that a name was not necessary. Nevertheless, he gave it. "Regnet Amcathra has been known to make an occasional visit to The Pickled Fisherman. He has been seen in Lilly's company, there and elsewhere."
Elaith let the man absorb this, then took a small package from the folds of his sleeve and unwrapped a blackened dagger. "One of my warehouses caught fire. The structure stood firm, but everything inside was burned, as was no doubt the intention. This was found between the charred ribs of a man in the employ of the Ilzimmer family. Do you recognize the workmanship?"
Danilo took the dagger and turned it over in his hands. He gave it back after a quick perusal. "My first sword was an Amcathra blade, as is nearly every weapon I own," he said evenly. "They are incomparable."
"Nearly as good as elven weapons," Elaith agreed. He saw the sudden leap of surprise and speculation in Danilo's eyes and wondered what it meant. The resolve returned, as suddenly as it had fled, now tempered by a new layer of sadness. "I am sorry to bear this news," the elf said. "What it means, I cannot say."
"Rest assured that I will find out."
The elf's resigned sigh and look of concern were not entirely feigned. "I thought as much. Have a care. The Amcathra clan is subtle and canny. Who would think them capable of such deeds?"
Those words were true enough to cloak the elf's deception-and hide another truth layered beneath it. Elaith knew full well that the Amcathra clan deserved its sterling reputation. There was no better quarry to set this particular hound upon, for Danilo would follow this path with dogged determination-and that would keep him and Arilyn out of Elaith's way. Of course, the cost to Danilo would be the loss of a lifelong friendship, but in Elaith's opinion Regnet Amcathra was a highly expendable pawn.
"Regnet Amcathra. Who would have thought?" Danilo echoed with a faint, pained smile. He extended his hand to the elf. "Hard words to speak, but I thank you for them."
Elaith took the offered handclasp and met the human's steady gaze. "What are friends for?" he said with appar shy;ent warmth and deliberate irony.
* * * * *
Regnet Amcathra lived in the Sea Ward, a sedate sector of the city that was nonetheless close to the roil shy;ing life of the docks. It seemed to Danilo that this con shy;trast suited his old friend. The Amcathra family was obscenely wealthy, and Regnet, like Dan, was a younger son and not involved directly in family affairs. Although Regnet was as fond of luxury and as complacently serene in his position as any man of his class, he had a fondness for adventure. A few years back, he had founded the Deep Delvers, a group of bored young nobles who went into the tunnels beneath Waterdeep in search of adventure.
Dan had always admired this endeavor. At the mo shy;ment, however, Regnet's deep-delving ways held too much coincidence for Danilo's peace of mind. Adventur shy;ing was often a convenient mask for roguery, and any connection with Undermountain in general and Skullport in particular was highly suspect. He sincerely hoped Regnet had not been involved with Lilly, that he'd had no part in the business that had led to her death.
He left his horse with the groom and walked through the iron gate, a daunting affair fashioned from three pairs of rearing pegasi. His friend's home was small, by the standards of the Sea Ward, and had once been a carriage house for a wealthy mage who owned a small fleet of pegasi. The mansion itself had burned down years ago-another casualty of magic created without thought of possible consequence-and it had never been rebuilt.
The door opened before Danilo could knock. He smiled down at the halfling steward-a hiring trend that had become all the rage since word of Monroe's efficiency had made the rounds of Danilo's social circle. This halfling wore a blue and red uniform that proclaimed his service to the Amcathra house, and his hair was as yellow as a dandelion. At the moment the comparison was particularly apt, for the steward's hair stood up as if he had raked his hands through it repeatedly and with great agitation.
Danilo regarded the little fellow. "Is something amiss, Munson?"
"You might say that, sir."
Before the halfling could elucidate, a jaunty step behind him spoke of his master's approach.
"Dan! Welcome. How long has it been since you've stopped by? Longer than a dwarf's beard, I'll warrant."
Though Regnet's words were a fair reflection of fact, there was no reproach in the man's face or voice. Danilo took the offered handclasp and returned his friend's smile with genuine warmth-and deep sadness. Regnet was an affable soul, handsome in a roguish sort of way, with curly brown hair and laughing hazel eyes. He had his faults, including a hot and ready temper, but Danilo could not believe he could be part of something as vile and needless as Lilly's death.
His need to know deepened and settled his resolve. "Have you time at present for conversation?" Danilo asked.
"I am at leisure this whole day and yours to com shy;mand. We must have a drink. Munson, is there any zzar in the house?"
"Of course, my lord, but-"
"Fine. Splendid. Bring some to the game room. Dan, you haven't yet seen my new trophy." Regnet clapped an arm around his visitor's shoulders and began to lead the way.
The halfling's eyes bulged, lending him a distinct likeness to a panic-stricken trout. "My lord, I must have a word with you."
"Later," Regnet said firmly.
Dan fell into step beside his friend, listening with only half an ear as Regnet chatted about his latest adventure-something about icy tunnels, and caverns so sparkling with crystal and ice that a single torch seemed to transform the place into a house of mirrors.
Danilo was more interested in whatever caused the halfling so much consternation. The steward followed them a few steps, his small round face a study in inde shy;cision. This Danilo could understand. Despite his good humor, Regnet had a demon of a temper-this Dan could attest to, as he had been on the receiving end of it twice or thrice. Like many men of his class, Regnet paid scant attention to his servants as long as they fol shy;lowed his orders without question or hesitation. It was a combination that might well give pause to the most stouthearted halfling. After a bit Munson gave up the effort, sighed, and veered off into a side passage, no doubt in search of the requested liqueur.