Cassandra Thann eyed the half-elf with genteel distaste. "On that," she said, with a pause that silently shouted, if in nothing else, "we are in accord. Suzanne will show you to a guest room with an appropriate wardrobe. Choose whatever suits you."

It was a command thinly cloaked in courtesy. Arilyn acknowledged both with a curt nod, then turned to follow the maidservant who darted forward to do her mistress's bidding.

Danilo caught Arilyn's arm as she shouldered her way past him. "We'll talk about this later," he said, speaking only for her ears.

She met his eyes and lifted one ebony brow. "On that," she replied in kind, "you can bet your—"

At that moment the dance music resumed, drowning out the last words of her response. Danilo, however, was fairly certain he got the gist of it.

He watched her leave, her stride back to its normal length now that the slender column of velvet no longer hampered her. He sighed as he turned to face the family matriarch, the other of the two most formidable women he knew.

Cassandra Thann was, or so most of Waterdeep believed, sister to Khelben Arunsun. She was also mother to nine children who had in turn supplied her with a small flock of grandchildren. She had probably passed her sixtieth winter, but despite the lines of displeasure creasing her brow, she appeared no more than a decade older than her youngest son. Her carefully arranged hair was just as thick and fair as his, her figure youthful and trim. The fine, sharp, sleek lines of her cheeks and jaw had not been blurred by age. Rumor suggested that Cassandra's beauty owned a debt to potions of longevity, but Danilo didn't believe it. More likely, the years simply didn't dare to touch her.

"Remarkable party," he commented lightly. He clasped his hands behind his back as he eyed the renewed dancing. "Resilient crew, wouldn't you say?"

"A good thing they are," Cassandra retorted, her sharp tone at odds with her blandly smiling countenance. "That ridiculous stunt of yours was nearly the end of this affair."

Danilo watched as Myrna Cassalanter, a young woman with bright henna-colored hair and the eyes of a hungry predator, closed in on his old friend Regnet Amcathra. Rumor had it that the Cassalanter clan was anticipating a match between their house and the young scion of the wealthy Amcathra clan—a rumor probably started by Myrna herself. Regnet, Dan knew, had other thoughts on the matter. Panic, thinly veiled by gallantry, suffused poor Regnet's face as he led Myrna onto the dance floor. No one, it seemed, was having an easy night.

"An early end to the ball. What a disaster that would be," Danilo murmured.

"You insisted upon attending this year," Lady Cassandra pointed out. Her eyes tracked the path Arilyn had taken out of the hall, then turned their full force on her son. "I trust that no announcement will be forthcoming this year?"

This set Danilo back on his heels. For a moment, he wondered how Cassandra had learned of the plans he and Arilyn had cherished four years past. Upon consideration, he realized that his mother's comment owed more to tradition than augury. It was not uncommon for betrothals to be announced at the harvest and spring festivals. Even so, her words disturbed him.

"And if it were?" he challenged.

"Ah." Cassandra smiled faintly, her face reflecting an infuriating mixture of relief and satisfaction. "I thought as much. The rumors considering your . . . liaison . . . with this half-elf have been exaggerated "

Danilo was frankly and thoroughly puzzled. "Arilyn has been my companion for more than six years now, and apart from the debacle at the Gemstone Ball four years ago, you've made no real objection. Why now?"

"Why indeed?" the woman retorted. "As a hired sword, she was more than competent, and when one hires persons with such skills, one must endure the occasional inconvenience of unexpected battle. No real harm was done at the Gemstone that year. This year is another matter entirely. Do not think I have not heard the young women sighing over your elven garden. A man does not gift mere hirelings with a fortune in sapphires and blue roses."

"Arilyn was never a mere hireling."

Cassandra sighed through clenched teeth. "Then it is true. Danilo, it is time you considered your position. You are not a lad, to waste your time with trifles and trollops."

It took every ounce of discipline he possessed to hold back the anger that rose in him like a flame. "Have a care, Mother," he said softly. "There are some things I will not hear, even from you."

"Better you hear them from me than another. This half-elf is unworthy of your regard, and there ends the matter."

Danilo studied the dancers for a long moment before he could trust himself to speak. "No, it most assuredly does not, but this discussion ends now, before matters between us are beyond repair. With all respect, my lady, if you were a man, I would be obliged to call you out for such statements."

"If you were a man, there would be no need for this discussion!" she snapped. Her anger cooled as quickly as it flared. "My son, I must be frank."

"Imagine my astonishment," he murmured.

Cassandra let the comment pass. She accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant and used it to make a sweeping gesture that encompassed the sparkling throng. "Look about you. Have you never noticed that there are no elves among Waterdeep's nobility?"

He shrugged. "Yes? So?"

"Perhaps you should ponder that."

Danilo snapped his fingers. "What about the Dezlentyr family? Corinn and Corinna are half-elven, and Corinn stands to inherit the title."

"The title will be challenged, of that you may be certain," she said in a distracted tone. "These are the children of Lord Arlos's elven wife. His first wife," Cassandra stressed. "Do you remember the circumstances of her death?"

A story Danilo had heard in his youth, long since forgotten, floated to the surface of his mind. "She was found dead in the garden," he said slowly. "If I recall aright, Lord Arlos insisted that it was the work of assassins. He claimed that his enemies were loath to see races other than human introduced into the Waterdhavian nobility and that his lady's death was the result. Surely, though, this was nothing more than the raving of a grieving man!"

Cassandra met his eyes once more. "Was it?"

A long moment of silence passed between them, for Danilo could think of nothing to say in the face of such absurdity. Before his wits returned, his mother glided away, and was swept up into the circle of dancers.

* * * * *

Arilyn stalked down the gleaming halls, ignoring the thorns that had pierced her too-thin slippers. At the moment, she would have happily traded her best horse for a pair of stout, practical boots. Not only would they have saved her feet from the skyflower thorns, but they would also lend conviction to the kick she longed to deliver to Danilo's backside.

Whatever had come over the man? Granted, he was fond of pranks. True, he worked behind the carefully constructed facade of a shallow, silly fop. She could accept that much. Much of the time, she derived a considerable amount of secret amusement from his contrived foolishness. She had learned to look behind the jest to the intent, and usually found herself in full agreement with Danilo's goals, if not always his methods. This stunt, however, was utterly beyond her ken.

As Arilyn's ire faded, however, she remembered the look of astonishment on Danilo's face. Then there was his use of Elvish to warn her. This was strange, considering the pains he took to hide his knowledge of the language from his peers. No, there was considerably more to this night's work than a silly prank.

"Are we almost there?" she asked the maidservant as they rounded yet another corner in the labyrinth of halls and rooms within rooms.