Over a midday meal of lentil stew and smoky cheese, Danilo filled his uncle in on the events of the last several days. Vartain gave the archmage a brief summary of the encounter with the dragon, and he went over the scroll’s contents in detail. He then offered his profile of the sorceress.
“Our enemy is a bard and a mage of considerable power. She is a speaker of Middle Sespechian, which means she is either a specialist in obscure dialects, or a native of Sespech who is at least three hundred years old. She is also a skilled riddlemaster, and the wording of the riddle suggests that she is—or at least was at one point—a Harper.”
Khelben nodded, his face grim. “Some of the altered ballads suggest that you are right about the last point. This bard was seen in Sundabar, you say? Is she an elf?”
Danilo shook his head. “No one who saw her could say one way or another, but the age Vartain suggests makes it seem likely. Wyn seems to think she is, too. Why do you ask?”
“I can think of one person who might fit this pattern. Iriador Wintermist was the daughter of a famous elven minstrel and a human baron of Sespech. She was a noted mage and an up-and-coming bard. She joined forces with Finder Wyvernspur’s band and traveled with him for a time. By all reports, she fell in battle during the Harpstar Wars.”
“A half-elf, eh? What did she look like?”
“Iriador was a famed beauty with brilliant red hair and vivid blue eyes. She was very slender, not much over five feet in height, and delicate of feature. If she is alive today, even with a potion of longevity she would no doubt appear ancient Three hundred years is very old for a half-elf.”
“That’s not much to go on,” Danilo said ruefully, rising from the table. “We’ve got to alert Kriios Halambar. If we can keep this sorceress from entering the site of the barding college Ollamn, perhaps we can purchase a little more time. At the very least, we can have the shop watched for someone who fits that description. Vartain, you’re the one to handle this. Come, I’ll see you out”
The riddlemaster walked with him in silence out of the tower and onto the street. “If I may ask, why do you entrust this mission to me?” he asked.
“You see things most men miss,” Danilo said with no thought of flattery.
“In recent days, I seem to have missed a great deal,” the riddlemaster in a glum voice.
Danilo looked at him sharply, for such introspection seemed uncharacteristic of Vartain. “Actually, your accuracy is astounding. You’ve a remarkable mind. Never have I seen anyone with your breadth of knowledge or attention to detail. I’ve noticed that when you do miss something, it is because you are too involved with sorting through facts and fitting things together. If I may ask, how would you define ‘humor?”
Vartain looked puzzled by the apparent change in topic. “Levity, that which is lighthearted and amusing.”
“Well, that’s good, as far as it goes. I’ve got another definition: humor is looking at the broad picture, and then finding the incongruous detail. Humor is another word for looking at life from a slightly different angle. It means not taking yourself too seriously. In addition to all that, it adds a bit of fun to the process of living.”
“Fun?”
Danilo slapped the riddlemaster on the back. “Fun,” he repeated. “When all this is over, I suggest you look into it”
Vartain seemed unconvinced, but he bowed and hurried off in the direction of Halambar’s Lute Shop. The Harper retraced his steps into the tower’s reception hall.
“Let’s see the scroll,” Khelben demanded at once.
Danilo reached into his magic bag. His eyebrows met in a puzzled frown. “That’s odd,” he mused as he rummaged around. “It was right here on top.” The Harper began to remove one item after another from his bag, until the pile on the floor was nearly knee-deep.
“Enough!” Khelben said in exasperation. “The scroll is obviously gone.”
His nephew nodded to concede defeat. “Elaith Craulnober has struck again. I’ve no idea how he does it, but he got a ring off my finger without my noticing.”
“What does he want with the scroll?”
“He wants to keep it away from you, for fear that you’ll find the sorceress before he does. That’s why I didn’t return at once with the scroll,” Danilo admitted. “Apparently our sorceress possesses an elven artifact, a powerful magic harp known as the Morninglark, and Elaith would very much like to possess it”
The archmage received this news in silence. “So Elaith Craulnober will be searching the city, making inquiries about this magic harp.”
“Most likely. Can you have him picked up?”
“I’ll see to the elf,” Khelben said firmly. “Why don’t you go to Halambar’s and see if Vartain is coming up with any useful information.”
The Harper hurried to the guildmaster’s shop. Kriios Halambar received Danilo politely but looked puzzled when Dan asked for Vartain. “The riddlemaster has not been here since he was hired by Elaith Craulnober, many days ago. Why?”
“You answered my question, I’m afraid,” the Harper said ruefully. “Vartain is still working for Elaith.” He told Halambar an abbreviated version of the story, and asked if the shop could be closed and guarded so that the sorceress could not cast a spell at the site of the college of Ollamn.
“Visiting bards come here to sign the register, but the actual college stood on the site of the guildhall,” Halambar corrected him. He reflected on that possibility. “It would be unprecedented to close the guildhall during the Midsummer festivities. Many visiting bards take lodgings there.”
“But it could be done?”
“Oh, yes. I admit to having placed magical wards around the hall. In addition to normal precautions, events in Waterdeep have made such seem prudent”
“Our bard packs a good deal of magical muscle,” Danilo said, and reached into his bag for the dragon’s cask. It held fewer jewels that he remembered, but he selected several nice gems and handed them to Halambar. “Augment the guard on your shop and the guildhall with as much magic and steel as these stones will purchase. Have the place watched for anyone who fits the description I gave you.”
The guildmaster bowed. “All will be done as you say. Lift the curse on the bards, Lord Thann, and your name will be remembered as foremost among us.”
Danilo had reason to believe otherwise. Once the magical delusion was lifted, he would again be regarded as an amusing and inept dabbler, a typical idle nobleman of great wealth and little substance. At the moment, Danilo truly regretted the role he had lived for years. If he had not played the fool, if he had taken Khelben’s advice and served openly as a mage of promise, he would have been able to share his vision of elfsong’s importance. As Khelben’s acknowledged apprentice, he could have accomplished much. But who would listen seriously to Danilo Thann, dandy and dilettante? Now knowing what else to do, the Harper politely returned Halambar’s respectful bow.
Even during the bright summer afternoon, in the basement tavern known as the Crawling Spider it was dark as night The plaster walls had been molded to look like the hewn stone of underground tunnels, and glowing mosses and lichen gave a faint green light to the room. Stuffed spiders hung from the ceiling, and realistic sculptures of more frightening deep-dwelling beasts decorated the odd taproom. In one corner stood a wooden illithid, holding the hat some waggish customer had hung on a purple tentacle. The tavern catered to those who missed their subterranean homes—mostly dwarves, half-orcs, and a few gnomes—as well as clerics who enjoyed an occasional respite from respectability. The servants were dressed to resemble drow elves, wearing tight black leggings topped with the briefest of chain mail, black masks with pointed ears, and flowing white wigs. These servants were exclusively beautiful human women. No elf, Elaith Craulnober noted with disdain, would submit to such an indignity. The moon elf found this tavern abhorrent, but one of the serving wenches was a former employee and a reliable source of information.