Part 33 (1/2)
Arclath's face swam into her head...and suddenly, in a rush that took her breath away, Amarune found herself missing his company very much.
She wanted to hear that laugh of his again, his airy gestures and all the nonsense he drawled. She...stlarn it, she wanted to be at his side again. Where she felt, well, not safe, but confident. Or rather, wrapped in his confidence, as if it could carry them through any danger or difficulty or unpleasantness.
Huh. And what pit of vipers would that that be, trailing along with drawling, pranksome, idiotic Lord Delcastle? be, trailing along with drawling, pranksome, idiotic Lord Delcastle?
She shook her head and gave the dimly seen ceiling a wry shrug. No matter. It seemed to be what her sleeping self had decided she wanted to do.
Her next shrug took her out of bed in a long-limbed wriggle. Stalking to her row of cloak hooks for some clean clothing, she found herself wondering if Lord Arclath Delcastle would be at Delcastle Manor at that hour.
Or if, regardless of what time of day or night she appeared at its gates, the Delcastle servants would let her in-or just sneer and slam those grand doors in her face.
Drawing a clean clout up her legs, she frowned at that. Mustn't let new vipers into their cozy little pit...
She smiled wryly and started thinking up grand tales of secret messages from the palace she'd be bringing him. She'd be...a highknight. Yes, she'd have to be.
”The words I bear are for the ears of Lord Arclath Argustagus Delcastle alone,” she murmured to her mirror, keeping her face as calm as stone. ”They are...royal words.” words.”
That sounded good. Almost good enough to get her in. sounded good. Almost good enough to get her in.
She grimaced and reached up to fetch the knives she strapped all over herself when being the Silent Shadow.
She had a G.o.ds-strong feeling she would be needing them.
”Behold,” Elminster muttered to himself, ”in what minstrels are pleased to call 'the dead of night,' one Elminster of Shadowdale returns to his chosen abode and battlefield, by one of the few ways he feels able enough to use about now.”
The night-la.s.s he'd just enriched by two golden lions glided to a graceful stop in front of the two duty guards, smiled as she calmly pulled open her bodice, and announced, ”Wizard of War Rorskryn Mreldrake has just lost a bet, and by way of forfeit, has paid me well to entertain you two loyal Dragons.”
”Stand back, la.s.s,” the older guard replied sternly, peering warily past her into the night. ”We're under strict orders to let no one pa.s.s, not stray from our posts, and keep all who have weapons a safe reach away from us.”
The night-la.s.s stepped back meekly and undid her gown.
”These are the only weapons I have,” she told them slyly, gesturing down at herself.
The younger guard growled wordlessly, stepped away from the door they were guarding, and reached for her.
”I'll stand watch,” his older comrade growled quickly. ”Be quick.”
His resolve lasted long enough for Elminster to begin to think his coins hadn't bought him pa.s.sage after all, but the night-la.s.s knew her work. One of her hands had been beckoning the older Dragon all the while, until eventually he growled and strode eagerly forward.
Wherefore Elminster stepped away from the bit of the wall he'd been pretending to be a part of for a very long time, and slipped through the door unnoticed, without a sound or any undue haste.
By the time the younger guard decided it would be prudent to at least look up from the la.s.s-whose name he very much desired to know, for future occasions-and peer around to make sure the street was empty of a patrol or a n.o.ble's coach or two or perhaps a small approaching army, Elminster was several secret pa.s.sages deep into the palace and descending some old, damp, seldom-used stairs.
He had magic to plunder, a hiding place to find, and a kingdom to save. In short, the usual...
Amarune drew in a deep breath, pulled her cloak more snugly around her-the moon was up, but the night had turned cold cold-and firmly clacked the knocker of the porter's door beside the gates of Delcastle Manor. Slowly and deliberately, thrice.
Almost immediately, she heard a soft, sliding sound, as if a plate on the other side of the door had been slid aside to let someone peer at her. In the shadowed gloom, she couldn't see any change in the door, but someone was there, watching and listening. There was movement behind the high, many-barred gates, too; guards, no doubt, taking up and aiming ready crossbows.
Silence stretched. She worked the knocker again.
This time, the response was a rattle of chain and a louder sliding. A square of heavy, double-layered grille revealed itself in the door at about eye level, a pair of steady eyes regarding her from behind it.
”Delcastle Manor,” their owner murmured. ”Your business?”
”I've come at the invitation of Lord Arclath Delcastle,” Amarune replied carefully, knowing well what might be a.s.sumed about a woman walking alone and cloaked by night, and trying to sound polite, refined, and formal, ”to speak with him. I am aware of the hour.”
”I am sorry,” the porter replied, sounding as if he really was, ”but the Lord Delcastle is not now at home. Perhaps tomorrow, around highsun, I will be able to give you a different reply.”
”I see,” Amarune said, managing to keep her sigh quiet. ”Do you know where he is?”
”Out dining. I was given to understand. Darcleir's Haven is a likelihood, but with so many friends, old and otherwise, newly arrived in Suzail, he might very well end up elsewhere. In the meantime, I regret I cannot admit guests to wait for him.”
”Of course,” she replied, turning away.
Where to, she was not quite sure. Nowhere at all might be safe for her, and among all these tall, formidable walls and the frequent Watch patrols, she could hardly linger on these streets of mansions and- Lost in her thoughts, she almost walked right into a pair of gleaming boots and the dark-clad man who was wearing them, standing right in front of her in the night.
She flung herself back, clapping hand to knife-and saw that it was Arclath Delcastle, smiling a rather tired smile at her. He was just arriving home from the Haven, having grown heartily tired of the company of overpainted, oh-so-pretty venomous vipers of young and predatory n.o.ble ladies, with their honeyed threats and condescensions.
Their eyes met, and one good look at her frightened, imploring eyes told him something. Breaking into a broad grin, he swept one arm around Amarune with a loud and delighted, ”Lady ”Lady Amarune! We Amarune! We must must talk! Your castle or mine?” talk! Your castle or mine?”
”Y-yours,” she managed to whisper. ”If it's...convenient.”
”In your company, all all things are convenient,” he replied heartily. ”Open up, Lorold!” things are convenient,” he replied heartily. ”Open up, Lorold!”
The gates were already parting, guards coming to attention. Arclath gave them both bright smiles and nods, waved to the porter, and swept his cloaked guest past them all into the moonlit gardens beyond.
”I'm honored that you came to visit us so promptly! The family will be so so pleased!” pleased!”
He took her arm, firmly guiding her up a gentle slope of gra.s.s wet with heavy dew to a path lined with tall plantings of uruth and bedaelia. ”To our right, the Delcastle bridal bower! Ahead of us, the summerhouse, and to our left, looking down across the main carriageway to the arbor, we can see in the distance the five fishponds my great-grandsire was so proud of. The Delcastle stables are justly famed for their-”
By then they were well along the floral path, and he stopped in midsentence, dropped his voice to a murmur, and asked, ”Do you need shelter? A meal? A place to talk?”
”All of those, I suppose,” Amarune replied, hesitantly. ”To talk, mostly.”
”Here, or inside, where the dragon that is my mother snorts fire and growls, devouring a steady procession of young and perfumed men entering her bedchamber?”
Amarune sighed. ”Do you have a room you can call your own, with a door that locks?”
Arclath eyed her gravely. ”I do. Have you a reputation left to maintain?”