"Too late," said a low, musical voice behind her.
Sophie whirled, her eyes wide and one hand clutching at her throat. A tall, thin figure slipped into the small clearing. It was the elfwoman from the stables, and she moved toward Sophie with the unmistakable grace of a warrior.
The woman took an involuntary step back, and bumped into the cabin. Her gaze darted about the clearing for escape, and saw none. The only possible weapon was the pile of deadfall wood piled up for kindling. But Sophie would fight with tooth and nail, if it came to that, to keep her day-old freedom.
She threw back her head and glared a challenge at her visitor. "You're working for that elf. He sent you after me. Well, I'm not coming with you."
"Wrong, and wrong twice again." The elfwoman lowered her hood, revealing a tumble of black curls and a delicate face dominated by large, gold-flecked blue eyes. "My name is Arilyn Moonblade. I work for the Harpers, who have an interest in Tethyr's future and, therefore, in yours."
Sophie's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you. You elves always stand together."
"I am half-elven," Arilyn said evenly, "and at the moment, Elaith Craulnober is in no position to offer any threat to you."
"Lies!" Sophie dived to one side and came up with a stout limb in her hands. Lofting it like a club, she ran at the half-elf.
Annoyance flickered over her opponent's face. The half-elf dropped one hand to the hilt of her sword, but otherwise stood her ground.
More fool she. Sophie brought her club down with skull-splitting force and deadly intent.
The stick thudded dully into the packed earth of the clearing floor. Sophie found herself off balance and bent low by the force of her blow. Before she could regain her balance, the half-elf kicked her in the rump.
Sophie hit the ground facedown and hard, but she didn't lose her grip on her club. Agile as a cat, she rolled onto her back and surged to her feet, swinging as she went.
Arilyn sidestepped another blow and caught Sophie's flailing wrist. The woman struggled and cursed and slapped wildly with her free hand until the half-elf captured that one, as well. Nearly frantic now, Sophie kicked the half-elf in the shin, hard, and aimed another kick at her knee.
But again the warrior was too quick for her. Arilyn accepted the first blow and saw the second, disabling one coming. A quick twist of her body took her beyond reach of Sophie's vicious kick. She kept turning, holding Sophie's wrists and forcing her to turn as well. When they were back to back, Arilyn bent over suddenly.
The world spun as Sophie flipped over. She hit the ground, stumbled, and dropped to her knees. Overmatched she surely was, but she refused to concede. Dark, furious resolve filled her and she rose unsteadily to her feet. With one hand she hiked up her skirt, and with the other she snatched the knife she kept sheathed to her thigh. Holding it high and shrieking like a fiend, she rushed at the half-elf.
Lighting flashed, or so it seemed. The half-elf drew her sword, so fast that the hiss of drawn steel blended with the clash of weapons. Sophie jolted to a stop, stunned by the impact of the blow. The two females stood nearly toe to toe, and Sophie saw her own resolve mirrored in those elven eyes.
"What do you want?" she panted out.
"I told you. I'm supposed to take you to safety."
Sophie wretched her knife free and danced back. "Not this time. I've tried to leave the fortress before, and I've been delivered back to the gnomes by people who need the Friendly Arms and Bentley Mirrorshade's sufferance. Never again."
As she spoke, she hooked her toe under her fallen club. With a quick kick she tossed it into the air. To her enormous surprise, she caught it. Clutching it in a two-handed grasp, she began to circle her opponent.
The half-elf turned with her, sword held in guard position. But there was exasperation on her face-the expression of a tutor enduring a student's tantrum.
Something snapped in Sophie's heart. She threw herself at the half-elf, shrieking and kicking and flailing. She was beyond reason, beyond anything but a fury fueled by years of frustration and the desperation to regain her stolen dreams.
Her frenzy ended quickly, suddenly, in an explosion of pain that filled her mind with sizzles of crimson fire and then blinding white light. When the light receded and vision returned, Sophie realized that she was sitting on the ground. Her jaw ached and throbbed. She raised one hand and wiggled it experimentally, then she cast a baleful look up at her tormentor.
The half-elf glared at her. "Don't move. It would have been a lot easier to kill you than to keep you alive. You're not worth that much trouble twice."
Sophie acknowledged that this was simple statement of fact. She was alive at the half-elf's sufferance, of that she had little doubt.
But for what purpose? The gnome's warning came back to Sophie: many were the factions in her native Tethyr who sought out those with even a drop of royal blood. Few of them wished her well.
"Who are you working for, if not the elf?" she ventured.
"I told you. The Harpers want you alive. Elaith Craulnober is in no position to take action against you. At the moment he's in the dungeons under the Friendly Arms, being held for the murder of Bentley Mirrorshade."
"I don't believe it!"
The half-elf folded her arms and gave Sophie a long, speculative look. "I saw the body."
So Bentley had been right about the dagger; the risk of keeping it had been too great. But that realization brought no remorse to Sophie's heart, and no gratitude. The gnome had stolen her life and had forfeited with his own. There was a certain justice in his fate, and Sophie celebrated it with a short, bitter laugh.
This seemed to anger the half-elf. "The gnome was your guardian. You owe him your life many times over. This is the regard you show him?"
The woman shrugged. "Have you never heard of the Mirrorshade Cipher?"
"You can tell me about it on the way." The half-elf took a step toward her.
Sophie shrunk back. "I'm not returning to the Friendly Arms. I won't!"
"You don't have to. I'm supposed to see you safely to Waterdeep."
She considered the gnome's warnings, and the words of the scarred mercenary. There was danger in Tethyr. Waterdeep would be safer, certainly, but would it be much of an improvement?
"And what awaits me there?" she said bitterly. "Another tavern, more years of working off my debt to you and your Harpers?"
Arilyn hissed out an impatient sigh. "You will be introduced into society as the daughter of Lady Lucia Thione. You will have possession of your mother's estate and fortune. And as long as you stay out of trouble, you need have nothing more to do with the Harpers. It's the best offer you're likely to get. I advise you to take it without further argument. There are limits to my patience."
Sophie stared up at the half-elf for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. Arilyn's face spoke of distaste for the task, but determination to see her duty through. A smile began to dawn on Sophie's face. No. Isabeau's face.
She held out her hand and lifted her chin to an imperious angle. "Help me rise," she said haughtily.
This seemed to amuse the half-elf. She nodded approvingly. "Good idea. It'll take a lot of practice to make a noblewoman out of you. Might as well start now."
Isabeau rose to her feet unaided and brushed off her skirts with as much dignity as she could muster. "Let's be off," she ordered.
The half-elf shrugged and led the way into the trees, where a pair of horses waited. They rode in silence until the sun was high. Isabeau passed the time counting her new fortune, picturing herself living in splendor, thinking about the noblemen she would dazzle with her charm and beauty. She would start with the man who had ignored her the night before. He had scorned the offer of a tavern wench, but surely he would not resist Lady Isabeau Thione! Already her life at the Friendly Arms seemed a distant thing, a rapidly fading dream.