Arilyn stepped in and swung again, hitting the golem's other arm at the crook of the elbow. She felt the give of rusted metal and struck again, and then again. The limb fell to the stone floor with a clatter, the illusion dispelled. Its iron fingers flexed and groped. Arilyn tried to kick the arm aside and swore when her boot met unyielding iron. She sidestepped the twitching limb and struck again and again, chopping at the construct like a deranged woodsman determined to fell a tree one limb at a time. With each piece she knocked or pried loose the constructs struggle weakened.
But not soon enough. The golem, now plainly visible for what it was, managed to work its impaled arm free. Danilo's singing sword went skidding across the floor.
At once the half-elf struck, thrusting her own blade back into the same place. She leaned into the sword to hold it in place and shot a look over her shoulder at Danilo. "Melt it," she commanded. "It's the only way to be sure."
Danilo hesitated, quickly considering his options. Fire would only restore the golem. Lighting, then. He lifted both hands and deftly summoned the force, holding it between his hands in a crackling ball as he shouted for Arilyn to stand clear.
Magic flowed from his fingertips in an arc of blue-white lightning. The construct wilted like a candle left out in the sun; the moonblade remained impeded in the wooded post, unharmed by the magical assault.
Danilo went to Arilyn and brushed a stray curl off her damp forehead. When he gathered her close, her arms went around him instinctively.
"Casting an illusion on an iron golem-very clever," he murmured. "Bentley Mirrorshade was a powerful illusionist, and a clever gnome."
Arilyn lifted her head from his shoulder. "And?"
"One of the main tenants of the illusionist's craft is to make people overlook the obvious. What is the most obvious question, and the one question no one thought to ask?"
The half-elf pondered this. A small, wry smile lifted the corner of her lips when the answer came to her, and she eased out of Danilo's arms. "Give me the amulet of seeking," she said. "I'll go after the girl."
Within the hour, Danilo again stood in the Temple of Wisdom. The body of Bentley Mirrorshade had made it there at last, and it was laid out in the enclosed courtyard in the center of the temple, upon a bier of stacked wood well-soaked with fragrant oil. It was no coincidence, thought Danilo, that the gnomes were preparing so hasty a funeral. After this ritual was completed, nothing he could do would save Elaith.
He explained his intentions to Gellana Mirrorshade. The gnomish priestess was not happy with his request, but she had pledged her aid to his quest for justice. She sent Garith Hunterstock to the dungeon to retrieve Elaith.
"The accused has a right to tell his story," Danilo said, "but he does not wish to do so before so many witnesses. The elf is weaponless and bound; I can confidently ensure the priestess's safety."
Gellana shrugged and spoke a few gnomish words to her fellow clerics. All left the temple. When the only sound was the steady dripping of the large Neveren water clock that stood like a monument in the courtyard, Danilo bid the priestess to summon Bentley Mirrorshade. When the ghostly gnome stood before them, Danilo turned to Elaith.
"You were late to the tavern last night. Did you have dinner?"
The elf looked at Danilo as if he had lost his mind. "I ordered, but did not eat. The gnome's murder was discovered before my meal arrived, and the tavern closed."
"Ah. And what did you order?"
"Medallions of veal, I believe, with capers and cream. Why?"
Danilo ignored the question. "You were also subjected to a peace bond, of the sort given to mages. Is your magical skill widely known?"
"It is not," the elf replied. "I find that the best weapon is often the one you keep hidden."
"Well said. So it would appear the gnomes knew more of you than is commonly told. Who tied your thumb in a peace bond?"
The elf shrugged. "A human wench, overblown and under-clad. Dark hair. I did not ask her name."
"That sounds like Sophie. Is peace bonding her task?" Danilo asked Gellana. The gnomish priestess responded with a cautious nod. The Harper held up a small sack of green-dyed leather. "Is it also her task to relieve guests of their valuables? This coin purse is mine. I lost it in the tavern and found it this morning in Sophie's chest. But Sophie herself, I could not find. A marvel, considering that the fortress is sealed."
Gellana scowled. "You had me summon my husband to listen to this nonsense? If you have questions for Bentley Mirrorshade, ask them!"
Danilo nodded agreeably and turned to the specter. "Is Bentley Mirrorshade dead?"
"What kind of question is that?" snapped Gellana.
"A very good one, I should think," the Harper replied. "It is the one question that no one thought to ask. When presented with a body, everyone's instinct was to look for the killer. But Bentley Mirrorshade is an illusionist of some skill, and considerable sophistry. Looking back, it strikes me that your questions at the summoning, dear lady, were rather oddly worded. You referred to the spirit by name, but never the body. The elf was responsible for 'the death,' and his weapon struck the killing blow-that is all that was said. Elaith would be responsible indeed, if the death in question was that of the veal calf he ordered for his dinner."
Danilo held out his hands, his palms open and empty. "Shall I cast the needed spell?" he asked the priestess. "One that can dispel the effects of others' spells?"
"Don't bother," said a gruff voice from the vicinity of the clock. A door on the pedestal cabinet flew open, and Bentley Mirrorshade, very much alive, strode toward his bier. He snatched the illusionary specter from the air and crumpled it as a frustrated scribe might treat a sheet of blotched parchment. On the bier, as Danilo expected, lay the body of a brindle calf.
The gnome illusionist folded his stubby arms and glared up at the Harper. "All right, then, you got me. What now?"
"That depends upon you." Dan said. "Tell me, why did you stage your own death?"
Bentley rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Had a responsibility to the girl. She's trouble, and no mistake about that, but she don't deserve the likes of this elf sniffing around. I got no use for those who would use the girl to stir up rebellion, and even less for those who would hunt her down to enrich themselves." He glared at the elf.
"And by leaving behind your own illusionary corpse, you created a diversion that allowed the girl to escape unnoticed, and that condemned Elaith Craulnober to death. Masterfully done," Danilo complimented him. "But how did you intend to explain your eventual return from the grave? I have my suspicions, mind you, but I'd like to hear you tell the tale."
The gnome had the grace to look sheepish. "I've been known to go off fishing now and again. Gives me time alone, time to think. I thought to come back when this was over, act surprised by this rogue's fate. And you're right in what you're thinking, Harper; I thought to pin the blame for the illusion on you. You're known for pranks, and for spells gone awry."
Danilo took note of the remarkable change which came over Elaith during this confession. Understanding, then profound relief, then chilling anger played over his elven features. Danilo sent him a warning look.
"I must say, this leaves me with something of a dilemma," the Harper said. "Elaith has been found to be without guilt in this case, but to make public your scheme would upset the balance in the Friendly Arm, and would alert others who seek the Thione heiress."
"True enough," the gnome agreed. "What's your thinking, then?"
Danilo sighed. "I see no real choice. I shall take the blame for the illusion, as you intended. If asked, I can cite old and very real enmities between myself and Elaith." He turned to the elf. "In return for this, I expect your word that you will not hinder Arilyn and me in our task. We intend to take Isabeau Thione-better known as Sophie the pickpocket-to safety in the north."