"Don't worry," Danilo said with an insouciant shrug. "I always did perform best for an audience."

"I hope so. It could be a long performance. Arilyn is no fool, and you've got to stay with her until she leads you to the Harper Assassin."

An expression of intense distaste crossed the young nobleman's face. "I don't like the idea of using this woman as bait for a trap."

"Neither do I, " growled Khelben. "But can you think of a better alternative?"

"No," Danilo admitted.

"Exactly." Khelben rose abruptly, indicating that the interview was over. "I suggest that you make your apologies to Lady Sheabba. You leave for Evereska in the morning."

The tavern hall of the Halfway Inn was bustling with activity when Arilyn came down from her room. Near the northwestern border of the mountain range that surrounded Evereska, the Halfway Inn was a stopping place for both human and elven trade caravans. There were few inns in the Greycloak Hills, and this one boasted comfortable rooms, vast stables, and warehouses for temporary secure storage of goods. Elves and humans, halflings and dwarves, and an occasional member of one of the other civilized races all commingled in a relaxed, congenial atmosphere.

The Halfway Inn was much more than an inn. Among other things, it was a trading center for the elven colony of Evereska. Set in a valley of fertile farmland and surrounded on all sides by mountains, Evereska was a beautiful and heavily fortified elven city. It was protected by an impressive arsenal of elven magic and military might. The Evereska Valley had been inhabited by elves longer than anyone could reckon, but the city itself was young by elven standards. As was the case with most elven settlements, little was known about Evereska other than its reputation for impregnability and the calibre of elven mages and fighters trained at its College of Magic and Arms. To most of those who traveled through the Greycloak Hills, the Halfway Inn was Evereska. Few persons got any closer to the city.

Myrin Silverspear, the inn's proprietor, was a dour, silent moon elf whose silver eyes missed nothing. He kept his own council better than anyone Arilyn had ever met, and his cozy establishment seemed designed especially with discretion in mind. As a result, the Halfway Inn was ever abuzz with intrigue, dealmaking, and clandestine meetings.

Arilyn always stopped here on her way into Evereska, to receive assignments or to meet contacts. For no reason that she could fathom, Myrin Silverspear had taken a special interest in her and her career. Whenever she stayed at the inn, he looked after her as if she were elven royalty.

As usual, he met her at the foot of the stairs with a low bow. "Your presence honors this house, Arilyn Moonblade. Is there anything that you require this evening, quex etriel?"

As usual, Arilyn winced at the extreme deference of his greeting. "Just to be seen."

"I beg your pardon?"

Arilyn grinned. "Let's just say that I'd like to be seen coming into the inn, but not going out."

"Ah. Of course." As usual, that was explanation enough for the discrete innkeeper. He took her arm and escorted her with grave ceremony to the large bar. She took one of the most conspicuous barstools, and Myrin made a show of going behind the bar and serving her himself.

Arilyn sipped at the elven spirits he'd poured her and fought back a surge of laughter. "Thank you, Myrin. I've definitely been seen."

"Not at all. Anything else?"

"Do I have any messages?"

Myrin produced a small scroll and handed it to her. "This came just this afternoon."

She glanced at the seal, and her mood darkened. With a sigh, she took the scroll from the innkeeper, opened it, and scanned the fine, precise elven runes. Kymil wanted to meet her here, tonight. That would most likely mean that the Harpers had given him another assignment for her, just when she was so looking forward to getting back home to Evereska. Another unconscious sigh escaped her.

"Good news, I trust?"

Arilyn looked up into Myrin's concerned silver eyes. "You might not think so. Kymil Nimesin is meeting me here tonight, at the usual place."

The moon elf received her announcement without blinking. "I'll see that your usual booth is cleared."

"You're a diplomat, Myrin," Arilyn murmured. Little love was lost between the proud innkeeper and the patrician arms-master, but Myrin Silverspear always received Kymil with the utmost courtesy. To Arilyn's puzzlement, Kymil treated the innkeeper with considerably less respect.

"So I have been told," Myrin said. With another bow, he excused himself to see to Arilyn's booth. She went upstairs to get the artifacts she'd retrieved from Darkhold, then returned to the tavern and made her way to the back of the large room where she slipped inside a heavily curtained booth.

Almost immediately tiny motes of light flickered over the bench opposite her. The golden pinpricks broadened, expanded, and finally coalesced into the form of her longtime friend and mentor, Kymil Nimesin.

"Your mode of entering a room never ceases to unnerve me," Arilyn murmured with a smile of welcome for her teacher.

The elf dismissed her comment absently. "A simple matter. Your last venture went well, I trust?"

"If it didn't, I wouldn't be sitting here." She handed him the sack containing the artifacts. "Will you return these to Sune's people and see that our informant gets the rest of his money?"

"Of course." After a brief silence Kymil attended to the amenities. "I heard of Rafe Silverspur's death. A shame. He was a good ranger, and the Harpers' cause will miss him."

"As will I," she replied softly. Kymil's words were a polite formula required by convention; hers revealed genuine emotion. She looked up sharply. "How did you hear about Rafe's death so quickly?"

"I was concerned about you, so I made inquiries."

"Oh?"

Kymil regarded his pupil keenly. "You know, of course, that the assassin was looking for you."

Arilyn stared down at her clenched hands. "I've come to that conclusion, yes," she said evenly. "Now, if you don't mind, could we please speak of other matters? Have you another assignment for me?"

"No, I called the meeting to discuss the assassinations," Kymil said. He leaned forward to emphasize his words. "I'm concerned about your safety, child. You must take steps to protect yourself from this assassin."

Her head jerked up, and anger flooded her face. "What would you have me do? Hide?"

"Far from it," Kymil corrected her sternly. "You must seek out this assassin."

"Many seek him."

"Ah, but perhaps they are looking in the wrong places. As a Harper agent, you can succeed where others fail. In my opinion, the assassin hides within the ranks of the Harpers."

Arilyn drew in a sharp breath. "The assassin, a Harper?" she demanded, incredulous.

"Yes," Kymil noted. "Or a Harper agent."

She considered her teacher's words and nodded slowly. It was an appalling possibility, but it made sense. The Harpers were a confederation of individuals, not a highly structured organization. Harper agents-those like Arilyn who were not official members of the group, but worked on particular assignments-tended to operate alone, and many of the members kept their affiliation secret. It seemed incredible to Arilyn that this veil of secrecy could be turned against the Harpers, cloaking an assassin in their very midst. On the other hand, she had grown to trust Kymil Nimesin's judgment. He had been allied with the Harpers since she was an infant, and if he thought that the Harper Assassin was within the ranks she was inclined to believe him.

Kymil's urgent voice broke into her reflections. "You must find this assassin, and soon. The common people hold Harpers in high regard. If we cannot find and stop the murderer, it will damage the Harpers' honor and reputation."