Arilyn jerked her hood back up into place. “What in the Nine bloody Hells was that about?” she demanded, her voice low and musical despite her irritation.

“It seems like days since I’ve had a good look at you. We’ re almost at the Friendly Arm,” Danilo said. His smile broadened suggestively. “The name suggests possibilities, does it not?”

The half-elf sniffed. “You keep forgetting the differences between us. A bard from a noble merchant clan can travel wherever he pleases, drawing attention but not suspicion. But I am known in these parts for what I am!”

He dismissed this with a quick, casual flip of one bejeweled hand. “In Baldur’s Gate, certain precautions were in order. But I hear the gnomes who hold this fortress are admirable little fellows-easygoing folk who set a fine table and mind their own affairs. And the Friendly Arm is perhaps the only truly neutral spot within a tenday’s ride. Nothing much ever happens within the fortress walls, so why should we not relax and enjoy ourselves?”

“We have business to attend,” she reminded him.

“I’ m honored that you take your responsibilities to the caravan so seriously,” said a new voice, one slightly lower and even more musical than Arilyn’s and rich with dark, wry humor. The companions turned to face a silver haired elf, just as he reined his cantering horse into step with Arilyn’s mare. Neither of them had heard his approach.

Enchanted horseshoes, no doubt, Danilo mused. Elaith Craulnober was known to have a fondness for magical items, and a wicked delight in keeping those around him off guard. The elf also valued information. Though Elaith would probably have given Arilyn anything she asked of him, Danilo suspected that the elf had another motive for allowing a representative of the Thann merchant clan to ride along with his caravan. Elaith knew that both Danilo and Arilyn were Harpers, and that members of this secret organization usually had duties far more pressing than acting as caravan guards.