They reached a set of double doors. Regnet threw them open with a flourish. "What do you think?" he demanded proudly.
Danilo peered into the room. Fine, deep chairs were scattered about, and tables of polished wood held gaming boards and neat stacks of cards. Small bowls of semi shy;precious gems or brightly polished crystals stood nearby as an aid in placing wagers. The most notable feature of the room was the collection of trophies. A splendid stag gazed down from over the mantle, its enormous rack casting shadows against the flickering glow of firelight on the floor beneath. A wild boar grinned wickedly from its place over the dartboard. Dangerous tusks the size and sharpness of daggers lent the beast an air of dignity that was not in the least diminished by the pair of darts that bristled from its snout. A narwhal was mounted against an enormous wooden plaque. The great fish had long been Regnet's pride, for the narwhal's size and the wicked, serrated length of sword on its snout made it the most difficult and dangerous of game fish. The narwhal had been stuffed with its tail arched beneath it, the body curved and ready for a lunging attack. It looked like a master swordsman forever frozen in guard position.
The new addition to the game room was even more spectacular. A giant, bearlike creature loomed out of the shadows in the far corner of the room. The thing was taller than a man, with a strangely pointed head and fur the color of sooty snow. Its rubbery lips were pulled back in an eternal snarl, baring large yellow fangs. Clawed paws, long-fingered as a man's but padded on the palm like those of a cave bear, were raised in menace.
"A yeti," Regnet said proudly. "I took it in the ice caves this spring."
The taking of trophies was a common practice but not one that appealed to Dan. "An impressive collec shy;tion," he said without much enthusiasm.
Regnet grinned and nudged his friend with an elbow. "Not as impressive as my other collection of trophies won, stuffed, and mounted, eh?"
Considering the nature of Dan's visit, the bawdy jest was as painful as a bare-fisted blow. It was also an unfortunately apt segue. "I regret to be the bearer of bad news," he began.
The nobleman's smile faltered. He sank down on a nearby chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his hands. Once Dan was similarly settled, Regnet nodded his encouragement.
"This regards a young woman known as Lilly. I know you have met her-she was at the Gemstone Ball, and you engaged her in conversation. Though you did not indicate to me at the time that you already knew the lady, it has been brought to my attention that you two were quite well acquainted."
Regnet's eyes widened in a moment of masculine panic. "Tymora take me! Not another bastard!"
This response was not what Danilo had anticipated. "You have others?"
The nobleman sniffed. "Surely you aren't claiming that you do not! Consider our misspent youth, and the long nights spent drinking and wenching. Only a spe shy;cial pet of Lady Luck, or a man as dry as a dwarf, could escape a mishap or two. But this is a most inopportune time. I had planned to announce my betrothal at winterfest."
Anger flared through Danilo, stealing his breath and almost blinding him with its intensity. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the stuffed yeti, which seemed to quiver in sympathetic indignation. He waited a moment until his vision cleared and he could trust himself to speak with control.
"Yet you toyed with this girl."
"As did others, no doubt," Regnet retorted. "For all we know, the brat could well be yours!"
Danilo surged to his feet and slapped both hands down on the table between them. He leaned in over the nobleman. "Lilly was not with child," he said in cold, measured tones, "and have a care how you speak of her. She was my sister."
Regnet jolted. "I did not know."
"Nor did I, until a few days ago. Nor will I know her." The reality of that brought an overwhelming tide of loss. He slumped back into his chair. "She's dead, Regnet."
"Gods above, Dan. I'm sorry."
The words were sincere enough, but they spoke of sympathy for a friend's loss. For himself, Regnet looked positively relieved.
Relieved. Not guilty. Danilo absorbed this, and de shy;cided that on the whole it was the best reaction he could have expected. Several moments of silence passed. For the sake of something to say, Danilo asked, "To what lady have you decided to pay court?"
"This may come as something of a surprise," Regnet cautioned, "but she is a fine woman, and she will see admirably to my business and social affairs."
Unlike a simple tavern wench, Danilo concluded grimly. He wondered if Lilly would have derived any sense of justice from the cool, practical description Regnet gave her rival.
"Business and social affairs, is it? Spoken like a true lover." Danilo's heart was not in the teasing, but at least he managed to keep the bitterness he felt on Lilly's behalf out of his tone.
Regnet grinned, not at all offended. "The lady has many charms, but those are the skills that come first to mind when her name is spoken. A redoubtable hostess."
"Is that so," Danilo said without much interest. "If Galinda Raventree were not so adamant in her refusal of suitors, I would think that you might be describing her."
"Indeed I am," Regnet said, not without pride.
At that moment, a feral shriek exploded from the far corner of the room. The yeti rocked back and forth, like a frozen creature trying to tear itself from a tomb of ice, and then it lunged forward.
Both men leaped to their feet. Danilo reached for his spell bag, and Regnet drew his dagger.
The yeti crashed to the floor, taking a table with it and sending ivory chess pieces flying like shards of ice. It rolled over onto one dead side and lay where it fell, leaving the real danger revealed behind it.
Myrna Cassalanter stood there, her hands fisted at her sides and her face as twisted and furious as a harpy's. She was dressed for seduction: Her henna-colored hair was arranged in an artful tangle to suggest-or invite-a lover's touch, and her gown was scarlet, clinging, and cut exceedingly low. Much of her snowy bosom was exposed and was, at the moment, quivering with indig shy;nation.
"You thrice-bedamned troll! Son of a poxed whore!" she shrieked. Her hands hooked into rending claws, and she came on like a rampant dragon.
Regnet tossed aside his dagger and leaped over the chair he had just quit, turning it so to put some barrier between himself and the flame-haired virago bearing down on him.
She leaped onto the chair in her frenzy to get at the man who had scorned her. Regnet dodged to one side, barely escaping her raking nails. The chair, no longer supported, crashed onto its back and sent Myrna tum shy;bling over it and onto the floor.
She rolled toward the hearth but was on her feet with an agility that a traveling juggler might envy, brandishing an iron poker in a determined, two-handed grip.
Regnet backed away, tripping over the upended chair. "Munson!" he roared.
The halfling steward appeared in the doorway, wringing his hands. "I tried to warn you, sir," he began.
His next words were lost in Myrna's shriek as she took a mighty swing. Regnet leaned away from the blow, but the tip of the poker traced a sooty path across the front of his shirt. On the back swing, Myrna fetched him a glancing blow to the head. Encouraged by this suc shy;cess, she came on, shrieking like a banshee and flailing the poker with all the verve, if none of the skill, of an elven bladesinger.