A discreet knock on the door roused the sleeping man beside her. Danilo sat up and ran both hands through his hair. "What is it, Monroe?"
"A message for Lady Arilyn," the halfling said, his voice muffled by the heavy door.
"Well, bring it in."
The halfling entered and handed Arilyn a message marked with the seal of the Guard. She quickly broke the seal and read with growing wonder. "There is a group of forest elves inquiring for me at the South Gate," she said and explained in a few words her belief that the malfunctioning sword had reversed the direc shy;tion of the dream summons. "They've come to help," she concluded.
"And?" Danilo prompted, seeing from her eyes that there was more.
Arilyn met his eyes with a steady gaze. "These are the elves from Tethyr's forest. You should know that Foxfire is among them."
Danilo absorbed this in silence. "You will want to meet with them at once," he said simply.
It was the answer Arilyn had hoped to hear-no questions, no reservations. This was part of her life, her duty, and he accepted it as such. He did not ask what path she would take when the task at hand was done. The time would come when Arilyn would have to answer that. She could not say how she would respond.
* * * * *
The night was nearly over, and Elaith had yet to decide whether his campaign to divert attention of the nobles from himself was success or failure. It was true that he had received important information through the combined magic of the Mhaorkiira and the dream spheres. However, word of the dream spheres was spreading fast-too fast. The powers of law and order were beginning to take notice.
Just that day, three of his dream sphere vendors had been arrested. The wizards of Waterdeep were furious at this profligate use of magic, and Elaith had received word that there were attempts to magically follow the spheres back to their source.
He wondered where those magical inquiries might lead. Given the distortion of magic that the dream spheres caused, it might be almost anywhere. He might not be the equal of Oth Eltorchul when it came to twisting magic, but he knew enough to ensure that no one could trace the sale of the spheres back to his door.
Certainly no one would come looking for him here. The Monster Pit was one of the best-kept secrets in the Dock Ward.
Through a two-way mirror, the elf looked out over his establishment with a mixture of distaste and satisfac shy;tion. Gladiatorial dens were illegal in Waterdeep, but this one was highly popular. It lay many, many feet under a smithy and a raucous tavern. By day, the clat shy;ter of hammers on metal, the hiss of the bellows and the gruff shouts and near-constant singing of the smiths served to drown out any hint of the noise of battle and the cheering of the spectators. By night, the tavern served the same purpose.
The Monster Pit was a large, round cavern that had been carved into the shale. The walls had been covered with wood to keep patrons from peeling layers off the rock and hurling them at the combatants.
As usual, it was an unruly crowd seasoned with strong spirits and a variety of entertainments not available in the market. Smoke from scores of pipes rose into a thick blue haze. Most of the patrons were shouting and shaking their fists at the fighters, but a few wandered off into back rooms for private wagers or games.
Tonight the betting was brisk, for few men knew how to take the measure of the rare monsters that faced off. They were an unusual pair and had cost the elf consid shy;erable effort and expense to acquire.
The larger fighter was a fomorian, a member of a species of freaks in which no two were quite alike. This creature was male, a huge brute with four muscled arms and a vast torso that dwindled down to short, bandy legs. Despite his stunted legs, the fighter stood well over six feet tall. His face was malformed, domi shy;nated by an enormous eye that drooped low on one cheek. The fomorian's nose was a bearlike snout, and his other eye was small, red, and cunning.
His opponent was a yuan-ti, a snakelike creature with the head and arms of a man. At the moment, the snake man had the upper hand. His coils were wrapped around the fomorian. The brute's eyes bulged, but he continued to fight. With two of his hands, he squeezed the snake's neck, and with the other pair he desperately tried to peel off the crushing coils.
The monsters' faces were eerily similar, for both had mouths as wide as frogs. Their fanged teeth were bared in fierce grimaces, and their forked tongues flicked out in desperate, flickering gasps. It was all very distaste shy;ful, Elaith noted, but highly profitable.
The sound of a Watch horn tore through the din and shattered his comfortable musings. Three patrols-twelve men-pounded down the wooden stairs. To Elaith's consternation, they went straight for the mages who ringed the cavern and whose magic kept the mon shy;sters contained within the ring.
"Fools," Elaith muttered.
In the chaos that followed, the yuan-ti immediately loosed its hold and slithered off, disappearing into a small hole that led to its den. The fomorian roared and charged with the fury of a caged beast who sees a chance at freedom. Three of the Watch converged on the fighter. He resisted, easily lifting one in each hand and hurling them aside. The third was swept away as wild melee filled the room.
The creature's mismatched eyes swept the room, searching the crowd for Elaith, the elf who had captured and imprisoned him. He charged forward and smashed the mirror with three fists. His malformed eyes gleamed with wild delight as they settled upon Elaith. He backed off several steps, and kicked into a charge.
The monster's progress was halted by a shining elven sword. To Elaith's astonishment, Arilyn stepped into the fomorian's path.
"If you have a weapon, arm yourself," she said to the creature.
"You cannot be serious," Elaith began incredulously.
"I will not kill an unarmed being," she said sternly. "Give him your sword."
Still Elaith hesitated, but the fomorian settled the matter by ripping a weapon-and the arm that held it-from a passing gambler. Arilyn lifted her sword in challenge. The fomorian charged, seeing only the elf behind her and the prospect of cutting him down. Arilyn would not give way, though. For several moments the battle went on. Two of the Watch took notice and began to close in on the combatants. One of them came to an astonished halt.
"That's it. I didn't sign on for this." The man turned and headed for the stairs.
Elaith followed the man's line of vision, and gasped in astonishment. A tall, rangy elven woman stood at the edge of the ring, her translucent sword drawn and her ghostly face daring any to interfere with the challenge beyond. More of the patrons noticed the apparently venge shy;ful spirit, and more took to the exits in frantic haste.
Elaith could not move so much as a step. He knew that elf. It was-or had been-Thassitalia, a warrior whom he had known on Evermeet. She had wielded the moonblade Arilyn carried and had bequeathed it to Amnestria, the willful, wild-hearted princess he had loved. That was very long ago, though. Why was Thassi shy;talia here? To help defend him, or to take vengeance upon him for his many misdeeds? Perhaps even to reclaim the Mhaorkiira and destroy the elf who dared to wield it!
Before an answer came, the ghostly elf faded away. Arilyn finished the battle and sprinted to Elaith's side.
"Any way out of here?"
The return to practicalities steadied him. Elaith used the points of his daggers to prod people out of the way. The two elves made their way to a back room. He threw aside a small carpet and opened the trap door hidden below.
They dropped into the opening and fled in silence through the tunnels. When finally they stopped for breath, Arilyn got right to the point.
"What do you have to do with these dream spheres?"