The festival of Higharvestide was the social highlight of the month of Eleint. Known as The Fading, Eleint was nonetheless far from dull. As summer drew to a close and the days grew short and chill, autumn paid its dividend in the form of longer, revel-filled nights. Harvest festivals crowded the calendar; Waterdeep's economy was based on commerce rather than agriculture, but the wealthy Waterdhavians never overlooked any opportunity to throw a party.

They came out in full force, the noble merchants of Waterdeep. The members of the older generation considered the festival serious business. It was a time to assert their position in society, to upstage business competitors, to gather useful information and start potentially beneficial rumors, and to generally move from deal to deal. The younger set merely gathered to enjoy their unearned wealth with smug high spirits.

The joint effort of several noble families, the Higharvestide Ball was always a lavish affair. It was held in the House of Purple Silks, one of the city's largest and finest festhalls. Several hundred guests gathered in the vast main room, which was ablaze with the light of a thousand tiny lanterns that magically changed colors to match the tempo and mood of the dance music. In the center of the marble floor a large circle of dancers moved through the intricate patterns of a rondellere, and as they laughed and spun, their glittering jewels and silks reflected the colorshifting light like a vast kaleidoscope.

Other revelers enjoyed the buffet tables or helped themselves to the trays of delicacies circulated by a small horde of servants. No expense had been spared; tonight everything was of the finest quality available to the City of Splendors. Vases of rare hothouse flowers scented the air. The musicians were among the best in Faerun, and several small concerts were planned for the evening's entertainment. At the moment a consort of viols and woodwinds played for those who wished to dance, but lutanists and harpists were also scattered in remote corners and alcoves to set the proper mood for trysts. One corner of the room-a corner very near a well-stocked bar-echoed with peal after peal of laughter. A merry group had gathered there around Danilo Thann, a favorite with the younger Waterdeep set.

The young man holding court in the center of the circle was dressed to the nines in an outfit designed to enhance his recently acquired image as a far-traveled man. He sported a broad-brimmed hat of green velvet, deliberately styled after the trademark hat of a famous Ruathym pirate, right down to the sweeping plumes. The dandy's soft, slouchy boots were like those favored by Sembian adventurers, but they were made of rare chimera leather, also dyed green. Finely embroidered dragons and griffons cavorted on his shirt of pale green Shou silk. There, however, the world-trotting theme ended. His jade green coat and trousers were of the latest local style, and a velvet cape in a matching shade swept dramatically to the floor. Several rings decorated his gesticulating hands, and a pendant with a large, square-cut emerald gleamed from his chest. Blond hair flowed over his shoulders, framing his animated face with shining, lovingly maintained waves.

Danilo Thann was a devoted dilettante as well as a fashion plate, renowned for his amusing but half-honed talents in music and magic. At the moment, he entertained his friends with a new magic trick.

"Dan, what ho! The wanderer has returned at last," called a voice behind Danilo, interrupting the would-be mage in mid-spell.

A chorus of cries met the new arrival. Splendidly attired in his family colors of red, silver, and blue, Regnet Amcathra strode into the circle of nobles. He and Danilo clasped hands with the gravity of warriors, then fell laughing into a back-thumping hug.

"By Helm's eyes, you're a welcome sight," swore Regnet heartily when the pair broke apart. A boyhood friend as well as Danilo's competitor in matters of sartorial excess, Regnet scanned the dandy's green ensemble from top to toe and drawled, "But tell me, Dan, will you turn another color as you ripen?"

The group burst into laughter. Before Danilo could respond in kind, Myrna Callahanter spoke up. "Yes, well, speaking of green, did you hear that our good friend Rhys Brossfeather was spotted entering the Smiling Siren?"

The young nobles joined in a collective smirk. A flighty and casually malicious gossip, Myrna was ever on the alert for an opening, however small, for one of her tattling tales.

"Really? I've heard some wonderful stories about that place," Danilo said, grinning broadly at the thought of the shy young cleric in that notoriously bawdy tavern. "Is the entertainment there every bit as wicked as they say?"

"Well… So I've heard," responded Myrna, eyes demurely downcast.

The group hooted with laughter at her evasion. "Myrna was probably on stage that night," Regnet suggested, bringing about another chorus of mirth.

Not insulted in the least, Lady Callahanter responded with an evil grin that would have shamed a red dragon. She was always delighted to be the center of attention, and with a practiced gesture she reached up to pat her bright red hair. As she did, her outer robe fell conveniently open, revealing a translucent gown and a good deal more. Several jaws fell at the sudden display, and one guest noisily dropped his goblet.

Wearing a droll expression, Danilo leaned closer to Regnet. "Her timing rivals that of a bard, but can she sing?"

"Does it matter?" his crony responded dryly.

As were most of the guests, Myrna Callahanter was dressed to dazzle. Her blue-green gown was almost sheer, with clusters of sequins cleverly located to create an illusion of decency. The dress was cut low enough to reveal a lavish expanse of flesh. Multi-colored glitter had been glued in artful patterns to the skin of her arms, throat, and impressive curves. Even her hair-the raucous scarlet hue of Calimshite henna-was elaborately woven with gems and gilded ribbons. Nothing about Myrna was subtle; she had the reputation of devouring men with the speed and appetite of trolls in a butcher shop.

Making the most of the attention, Myrna heaved a theatrical sigh. Glancing around the circle through lowered lashes, she continued her litany of gossip. "And then there's that terrible scandal involving Jhessoba, the poor dear-"

"Myrna, love, I know rumor-mongering is your family trade, but must you talk shop at a party?"

Again the young nobles grinned in unison. The speaker was Galinda Raventree. She and Myrna were sworn foes, and their catty warfare could always be counted on to liven up things.

This evening, however, Galinda had another motive for curbing Myrna's tongue: Jhessoba's latest misfortune had political implications, which could lead-the gods forbid-to serious debate upon substantive issues. A devoted party-goer, Galinda had seen to catering this affair, and she was determined that it remain appropriately frivolous.

Danilo draped an arm around Myrna's shoulders, coming valiantly to her defense. "Really, Galinda, you must let Myrna talk. After two months with that dreary merchant train, I for one am longing for a bit of local gossip."

He gave Myrna a squeeze of encouragement. "Do go on."

"My hero," the gossip purred. She snuggled a bit closer, and one scarlet-tipped hand snaked up Danilo's chest to toy with his emerald pendant.

Noting the familiar, predatory expression in the noblewoman's eyes, Danilo wisely retreated. His arm came away faintly dusted with glitter, though, and he regarded his defiled garment with dismay. "I say, Myrna, you've got that damnable stuff all over me."

Several women in the group surreptitiously checked their escorts for similar telltale sparkles. Galinda Raventree took note of their suspicious scrutiny, and with great satisfaction she smirked into her wine goblet.