Danilo hissed a curse from between clenched teeth. "Why am I not surprised? Did you hear what was said?"
"No, nothing. Elaith must have cast a spell of silence, or some such thing."
"Now what?" mused Dan, running one hand through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. He had investigated Elaith's purpose in this trip, which was allegedly to acquire exotic goods from faraway Maztica in the markets of Amn. The elf would make a fine profit selling these wares to the merchants of Waterdeep, but he had also arranged to acquire goods that were restricted or forbidden outright: feather magic, enspelled gems, possibly even slaves. Danilo had considered this the extent of Elaith's planned mischief; apparently, he had been wrong.
"And the assassin? What had he to say for himself?"
"Yoseff was never one for conversation," Arilyn said shortly. "But he carried a few things that might help us."
She reached into the bag that hung from her belt and took several glittering objects from it. The first to catch Danilo's eye was a finely wrought gold locket on a heavy gold chain. A very nice amethyst-brilliant cut, thumb-sized, and deep purple in hue-was set into the front of the locket and a wisp of fine, black hair was nestled within.
"An amulet of seeking," he surmised, fingering the soft curl. "Hair so soft could only have belonged to an elf or a baby. I'm guessing the latter. So we not only have a fair idea who the assassin came to find, but also who sent him-may all the gods damn the woman who would so use her own child!"
Before he could elaborate, a female voice, raised in a keening wail, cut through the night. It was a chilling sound, an age-old, wordless song of mourning. It spoke of death more clearly than any cleric's eulogy, and far more poignantly.
Arilyn bolted from the stable with Danilo close behind her. They dashed through the nearly empty hall, toward the babble of gnomish voices in a side chamber. A thick-chested gnome barred their way, an odd-looking fellow with hair and skin of nearly matching shades of slate gray. Danilo recognized him from descriptions as Garith Hunterstock, Bentley's second-in-command. Though the gnomish commander was determined to keep them out, the Harpers were tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd.
In the room beyond, Bentley Mirrorshade lay in a spreading pool of blood. The hilt of a jeweled dagger rose from his chest.
"No one in, no one out," the gnome guard decreed. He raised his voice and began to bellow orders. "Lower the portcullis and bar the gates! Archers, to the walls! Shoot down anyone who tries to leave the fortress before the murderer is found."
Later that night, Danilo and his "servant" attended a grim gathering in the castle's hall. The body of Bentley Mirrorshade lay in state upon a black-draped table. Lit torches lined the walls, casting a somber, golden light.
The crowd parted to allow a green-robed gnome woman to pass. Respectful silence filled the room as Gellana Mirrorshade, the high priestess of Garl Glittergold and the widow of Bentley Mirrorshade, made her way to her husband's bier. She carried herself with admirable dignity. Her pale brown face was set in rigid lines, but her eyes were steady and dry.
The priestess spoke into the silence. "You are gathered here to see justice done. It is no small thing to speak with the dead, but evil deeds must not go unpunished."
Gellana began the words and gestures of a complicated ritual. Danilo watched closely; nothing about the spell was familiar to him. He had studied magic since his twelfth year with no less a teacher than the archmage Khelben Arunsun, but the magic of a wizard and that of a priest were very different things. Apparently, the priestess was skilled and devout, for a translucent image of Bentley Mirrorshade slowly took form in the air above the pall.
"The dead must speak truth," Gellana said softly, "and in life or in death, Bentley Mirrorshade would tell no direct lie. Tell us, my husband, who is responsible for this death."
The specter's eyes swept the assemblage. His stubby, translucent finger lifted, swept to the left, and leveled at Elaith Craulnober with a sharp, accusing stab.
For the first time in their acquaintance, Danilo saw the elf's composure utterly forsake him. Elaith's face went slack and ashen, and his amber-hued eyes widened in stunned disbelief.
"What nonsense is this?" the elf protested as soon as he could gather enough of his wits to fuel speech. "I am innocent of this thing!"
"Silence!" Gellana demanded. She held a jeweled dagger up for the ghostly gnome's inspection. "Was this the weapon used?"
The spectral head rose and fell once, slowly, in a nod of confirmation. Despite the gravity of the occasion, Danilo could not help but observe that the gnome's spirit had a remarkable flair for drama.
"And whose dagger is this?" persisted Gellana.
"It belongs to the elf," proclaimed the spirit. "It is Elaith Craulnober's dagger."
Gellana Mirrorshade's eyes were hard as they swept the gathering. "Have you heard enough? May I release my husband, and in his name order the death of this treacherous elf?"
A murmur arose, gathering power and fury. The accused elf stood alone in an angry circle of gnomes, buffeted by a storm of accusation and demands for immediate retribution. Elaith's eyes went flat and cool, and his chin lifted with elven hauteur as he faced his death.
That gesture, that purely elven mixture of pride and courage and disdain, was to be his salvation. Danilo had always been a fool for all things elven, and this moment proved no exception. He sighed and quickly cast a cantrip that would add power and persuasion to his voice.
"Wait," he demanded.
The single word thrummed through the great hall like a clarion blast, and the gnomes fell suddenly silent. Garith Hunterstock froze, his sword poised to cut the elf down. Danilo reached out and gently eased the gnome's blade away from Elaith Craulnober's throat.
"The elf claims innocence," he said. "We should at least consider the possibility that he speaks truth."
"Bentley Mirrorshade himself accused the elf!" shouted a high-pitched gnomish voice from the crowd.
"The dead do not lie!" another small voice added.
"That is true enough," Dan agreed in a conciliatory tone, "but perhaps there is some other explanation that will serve both truths."
Inspiration struck, and he glanced at Arilyn. She stood near the back of the room, nearly indistinguishable from the shadows. "Earlier this evening, Elaith Craulnober was seen meeting with a known thief and assassin. Perhaps this man stole the dagger, and used it to kill the gnome?"
"That is not possible," Arilyn said flatly. "The assassin was dead before Bentley Mirrorshade's murder."
"Dead?" Garith Hunterstock said, turning a fierce glare in her direction. "By whose hand?"
The half-elf returned his gaze steadily. "He attacked me; I defended myself. You will find his body behind the smokehouse."
"And who might you be?" demanded the gnome.
Arilyn slipped down her cowl and stepped into the firelight. Before she could speak, a young gnome clad in forest green let out a startled exclamation. "I know her! She's the Harper who fought alongside the elves of Tethyr's forest. If she says the stiff behind the smokehouse needed killing, that's good enough for me. And if she speaks for yonder elf, I say that's reason enough to think things over real careful."
Dozens of expectant faces turned in Arilyn's direction. Danilo saw the flicker of regret in her eyes as she met Elaith's stare, and he knew what her answer would be.