Elaith's eyebrows flew up. "You hardly need to offer that as an inducement. Many would seek you out in a crowd of courtesans."
This response brought a wry chuckle from Bronwyn. "I suppose that did sound like an offer," she admitted. "It wasn't intended to. In truth, I'd like to get some sleep tonight, and I'm looking for a safe place."
"This is it?"
She shrugged, following his meaning. "I haven't crossed you in business, and I've got nothing worth stealing. By all reports, you've got little interest in human women. As I see it, that adds up to about as safe as I'm likely to get. If you've an objection, I'll find another spot."
"None whatsoever." Now that he considered the matter, Elaith could see a definite advantage in keeping a close watch over his probable rival. "Do have a care near that jagged boulder."
She skirted the large rock, nodding approval when she caught sight of the circle trap. "Got many of those around?"
"A few."
"Good. I'll sleep more soundly for knowing it."
Elaith made room for her at the fireside. "Where is the dwarf?"
"Around," she said vaguely. "He pulled first watch. Oh, will you look at that!" she exclaimed suddenly, pointing.
The elf followed her gesture. At the far side of the clearing, a large fire leaped into the night. Multicolored lights and intricate patterns danced amid the flames. Silhouetted against the fey light were the lithe forms of the Eagle Riders. Garelith was telling the tale, judging from his animated face and hand gestures.
"Fireside tales," Elaith reminisced. "A small magic, often taught to elven young."
"This puts to shame all those hours I've spent star shy;ing into the flames," Bronwyn said, her tones rounded with wonder and delight. "How I wish I could hear their stories! But the elves would never tell them before me."
"No doubt you are right." A peal of bawdy laughter punctuated the elven tale, and the flames turned blue and rose into improbably entwined figures. "Not neces shy;sarily for the reason you think," Elaith added.
Bronwyn peered at the fire for a moment, then sat back looking impressed. "Huzzah! I'll always regard centaurs in a whole new light."
The elf saw no particular place for that conversation to go, so he dipped up soup in his travel mug and handed it to his guest. She produced a similar cup from her bag and handed it to him. For a few moments they ate in silence.
Finally Elaith's curiosity prevailed. "You strike me as exceedingly forthright, yet you haven't asked me my business in Silverymoon."
This amused her. "I'd probably be better off not know shy;ing! Truthfully, this has been a busy season for me. I have a great deal of business to attend. It's all I can do to watch my own affairs, much less mind anyone else's."
"You'll be staying on in Silverymoon for a while, then."
"As long as it takes. A few days, perhaps."
At the far side of the clearing, the Eagle Riders began a raucous game of dice. Bronwyn responded with a quick, sympathetic smile. Her reaction prodded the elf's suspicions about her knowledge of elves, and her true reasons for the trip.
"Their behavior doesn't seem to surprise you," Elaith commented.
"Should it? They're young, high-spirited, and enjoy shy;ing good company. They are entitled to their fun."
"Most humans do not consider high spirits to be an elven virtue," he persisted. "I think you're more familiar with our ways."
She shrugged again. "I've done business with all sorts. It helps to know the customs."
"I can see how it would," he agreed, approaching the question from another side. "Your work must often pres shy;ent challenges. Forgive me, but I find it difficult to envi shy;sion the fey folk entrusting their lost treasures to a human."
Bronwyn accepted this with a nod. "Some do feel that way. Others respect results and pay well for them. Why do you ask?"
"I might wish to engage your services some time," the elf said vaguely. He glanced up at the stars to measure the hour, then inclined his head in apology. "I am being a poor host. I have kept you talking, when you ex shy;pressed desire to sleep."
She stopped in mid-yawn and then reached for her bedroll. "I won't argue with you."
Elaith sat by the fire long after the woman's soft, steady breathing indicated that she slept. From time to time he drifted into reverie, that watchful dreaming that renewed and restored the fey folk.
However, there was little respite for Elaith this night. For the first time in many years, he saw in reverie the leaping white towers of the Moonstone Palace as he rode his silver-gray horse through the streets of Ever shy;meet's royal city. His heart swelled with the pride befit shy;ting one of his race and rank and talents, and it beat with quick anticipation of the meeting ahead. Amnes shy;tria, the youngest daughter of King Zaor and Queen Amlaruil, had been pledged to him in betrothal. She had sent word that she was eager to meet with her betrothed when the moon rose.
The crunch of heavy boots against stony ground roused Elaith from his dream. His keenly honed senses recognized the portent of danger, but for a moment or two he didn't care. The dream was so vivid, so poignant, that it left behind a sense of loss that dwarfed all other considerations.
Evermeet was lost to him. Amnestria was long dead. Her half-elven daughter despised him, and not without reason. What could possibly matter, in light of all that?
Elaith watched without interest as a large figure broke away from the trees and stalked toward his camp. A small movement nearby drew his eyes. Bronwyn's small hand curled around a knife. Other than that, she might have been asleep. She did not move and her breathing was slow and even.
"Expecting trouble?" the elf said softly.
"I warned you of the possibility," she responded. Her eyes opened a crack, and fell upon the large, bearded man who was creeping toward them.
"Rhep," she said resignedly. "Some men understand the word no only when it's accompanied by a stab wound or a fireball spell."
Elaith found this notion distasteful. He had never been able to understand why any male would wish to force attention upon an unwilling female. There was no joy in such games, and little sport. On the other hand, the prospect of battle offered a diversion, a familiar respite from his despair.
"I would be delighted to distract him," the elf offered.
"Thanks, but I don't want you to get in trouble on my account. No offense, but who will believe that you fought to protect my honor? I'll set up a fuss, and the others will intervene."
"Don't be so sure," he cautioned her. She looked puzzled, so he added, "Rhep is in the employ of the Ilzimmer family. He is caravan master, which means that, although Lord Gundwynd has supplied the mounts and some of the guards, Ilzimmer is funding the dragon's share of this journey. Most of the mercenaries report to Rhep. You would receive little assistance from that lot. Nor would you find recompense, afterwards. The Ilzimmer clan is known for its distasteful habits and would not be particularly concerned about the behavior of its hirelings. If you were a woman of their class, they might manage to dredge up a sense of out shy;rage. As matters stand, you can expect nothing."
Bronwyn did not flinch. "Harsh words, but good knowledge to have. I'll circle back to camp." She slipped from her bedroll and wriggled like a snake behind the stand of boulders that separated Elaith's camp from the trees beyond.
Rhep scowled as his gaze fell only on the watchful elf and the ashes of a solitary campfire. "Where's the woman, elf?"
Elaith rose, a stout stick in his hand. This he tossed in the direction of the approaching man. A circle trap snapped shut, splitting the wood and sending two neatly sheared pieces flying into the air. The mercenary shied back, both hands flung up to ward off the leaping wood. His furious expression deepened as he realized how his response might be read.