The Halls of Stormweather s-1 Read online

  "Oh, I don't know." Tamlin looked at the running burning raging chaos that engulfed the early morning street. "I find business so dull."

  THE DAUGHTER

  THE PRICE

  Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  "Who are you," asked the lion faced man, above the din of the music.

  "I'm not sure myself," giggled his raven-haired dance companion, "and even if I did know, why should I tell you?" With that, she threw back her head and laughed deeply as her partner spun her around the floor. The sound drew a few surprised stares from some of the nearby couples, but most merely smiled indulgently to themselves. Thazienne Uskevren was well known for her exuberance.

  Tonight was one of Lliira's celebrations, and the Uskevren had opened the doors of Stormweather to some of the many revelers this evening. The main hall was filled with some of the most renowned members of Selgaunt's elite.

  The partygoers wore various degrees of costumes for the event. Some sported only masques with their evening finery, while others had gone to incredible extremes to look the roles they assumed for the night. Musicians played nonstop and the aroma of richly flavored delicacies drifted throughout the hall.

  "May I cut in," a man asked Thazienne's partner, as he gently pulled the pair aside.

  "Now just a moment," the lion began to bluster at the tall, cloaked and hooded figure, "the song isn't yet finished."

  The hooded man, however, simply passed his hand in front of the lion's face. All protest faded from his voice. Thazienne's partner immediately faced her and sweetly took his leave. At the lion's departure, the hooded man tilted his head questioningly and held out his hand in offer to Thazienne. She, however, miffed at the turn of events calmly drew out a dagger that was more than just decorative. The hooded man did not move. Something in the manner of the stranger's stance was familiar to her, and Thazienne used the point of her weapon to flick the hood back. Gray eyes, hawklike in their intensity, stared down at her. She moved the dagger under his chin. The cloaked man stood still, staring at her as the nearby dancers, too caught up in the music to notice the scene unfolding nearby, rushed past them.

  "I would appreciate it greatly," he finally said "if you would kindly point your little needle somewhere else." He lowered his glance meaningfully at her dagger, which was still under his chin.

  "Please forgive me," Thazienne replied in a mock apology.

  With that, she flipped the dagger around so that it landed point down, on one of her gloved fingers. While balancing the dagger there, she gave a deep bow like a mummer and directed the gentleman to the dance floor. She returned her weapon to its hiding place and accepted his hand.

  After a few turns, she sternly admonished the muscular, blond man. "Steorf, I told you never to play those kinds of tricks with me."

  "The spell was completely unintentional and unconsciously instinctive," he replied. "I simply did not want to cause a fuss this evening. It appeared the easiest way."

  The tenseness melted from her face as she smirked at him. Her deep green eyes lost their harsh glare and she giggled softly.

  "To tell the truth," she admitted to him quietly, "I'm a little jealous. Even I can't get rid of men that quickly. Maybe one time you could teach me that trick," she teased.

  "You know I don't give away trade secrets, Tazi," he replied, calling her by a nickname only a handful used. "My mother would never forgive me," he added seriously.

  Always aware of how somber he could be in public, Tazi picked up the pace of their dance and tried to lighten his mood. "And just what are you supposed to be this evening, all dressed in black," she asked.

  "I am simply part of the shadows," was all he would say.

  Seeing that she was getting no where, Tazi broke away from his arms and pirouetted in front of him. "What do you think I am, then?"

  Steorf escorted Tazi away from the dance floor and then stared at her for a minute. The dress she wore was not a popular style. She had started of late, he had noticed, to wear Cormyrean fashions. The blood-red dress was made from some sumptuous, velvety material and clung to her suggestively. Her flat slippers peeped out from under the loose, full skirt. The tight sleeves accentuated her strong, slim arms and the fitted gold breastpiece accentuated more. Covering her delicate face was an elaborate mask of long, black feathers that blended into her short, equally black locks.

  "I would say you are some kind of exotic bird, escaped from the Hulorn's Hunting Garden," he said and then added after a glance, "or you are the bane of your mother's existence." Steorf nodded toward the fuming matriarch of the Uskevren standing some paces distant and watching them closely.

  Tazi glanced quickly at her mother and then turned away. "Oh, she's always angry. I can't seem to do anything right in her eyes."

  "Is she still furious about your hair?" he asked.

  "Well," Tazi began, justifying herself, "this length suites me better, and long hair certainly does not go well with Cormyrean dress." She stepped back and curtsied slightly once more.

  "Nor does it go well with some of your other activities," Steorf observed slyly.

  She was about to shoot back with an angry retort, but fell silent as her mother approached.

  "Good even to you, young mage," the matriarch saluted Steorf politely. "Are you enjoying yourself this celebration night?"

  Steorf bowed deeply and replied, "I am, Madame Shamur. Once again the Uskevren have hosted a most successful fete. I am honored to be counted amongst your guests."

  "It seems that your mother, Elaine, is not present," the ash blonde noticed sadly after scanning the hall.

  "No, milady. My mother asked me to carry her regrets."

  "Well," Shamur offered graciously, "I am sure the premier mage of Selgaunt does not always have the luxury of free time." She turned her steel gray eyes toward her daughter at that last remark. "Speaking of free time, Thazienne, have you seen Talbot this evening?"

  "I don't think my big 'little' brother has gotten back from his hunting trip yet. What's wrong, Mother? Has he ruined some secret plan of yours? Did you have a bevy of potential wives to parade past him tonight and now he's missing the show?"

  Shamur did not rise to the bait.

  "I was a touch concerned," she replied quietly. Before Tazi could add anything else, Shamur continued in a more firm voice, "I wouldn't worry your pretty little head about it." She stepped closer to her daughter and ostensibly straightened some part of Tazi's costume. "I don't suppose you worry about much, though. You don't have to." She stepped back in a crinkle of blue and silver satin. "Enjoy yourselves tonight and see that you share your attentions with some of our other guests, dear Thazienne." She began to walk away from the two.

  Angry at her mother's jab, Tazi called out, "Oh, Mother? I love your dress. The silver really brings out the warmth in your eyes." Shamur smiled stiffly at her before continuing to walk away.

  "Do you have to do that," Steorf asked as soon as Shamur was out of earshot. "I think she was genuinely worried about your brother."

  Tazi dismissed his concern. "I'm sure Talbot stretched out his trip just to avoid this evening, the lucky dog. As for my mother, she just brings the worst out of me. That could be me in a few years, you know," she exclaimed after a brief moment. Steorf took a step closer.

  "Never in a thousand years could that be you," he whispered. She smiled up into his face, and he took another step closer.

  "Is this a private conversation, or can anyone join in," interrupted a richly, almost foppishly dressed red-haired elf. His amethyst-hued velvet doublet was covered with gold embroidery and the sleeves were slashed to reveal tissue thin undersleeves of lavender silk. His leather boots announced their newness with every squeaky step he took. Unlike many of the other guests, he wore no mask at all.

  Steorf stiffened at his approach, but Tazi could only snicker.

  "It seems," she replied, "that I have precious little privacy from people tonight. Please, join us," Tazi offered solicitously. The elf immediately stepped
past Steorf as though he had been cloaked and stood close to Tazi. He reached for her hand and gallantly touched it to his lips.

  "Sweet Ebeian, always the gentleman." She curtsied deeply, but noticed Steorf's discomfort. She didn't want to see these two start to bicker tonight, so she tried to defuse the situation. "Steorf, would you mind finding me some wine," she asked innocently. "All the dancing we've done has given me a terrible thirst."

  "Yes, dear boy," Ebeian dismissed him. "See if you can scare us up some refreshments." Choosing not to notice Steorf's fuming, Ebeian turned all his attention to Tazi. She looked past his shoulder, smiled at Steorf and mouthed the word "please."

  "I'd be more than happy to find a full vat for Ebeian and help him into it headfirst," Steorf mumbled to himself. He almost smiled at that image and went off in search of something to drink.

  "How radiant you look in that ankle-length red gown." Ebeian used the comment as an excuse to reach over and capture Tazi's hands in his own jeweled ones. "The tight sleeves emphasize your slender arms and, well, that gold breastpiece…" His voice trailed off suggestively. "Of everyone in the room, I think only your mother does not appreciate your taste for Cormyrean fashion."

  "There's much that my mother does not appreciate," Tazi replied, letting her hands rest in Ebeian's. "But I do not dress to please her."

  "It's a good thing you don't. You would be a miserable failure," he said, laughing.

  Tazi extricated her gloved hands from his. "What brings you out this evening? When we last spoke, you mentioned other plans."

  "Plans change, pretty one," he answered. "You know how that works." He leaned forward and discreetly slipped his hand along the gold breastpiece Tazi wore. Instantly, she grabbed his thin hand and bent it back.

  "You forget yourself this evening, Ebeian," Tazi warned him.

  "Do I?" He looked at her meaningfully.

  "You'll pay for your familiarity one day," Tazi threatened lightly.

  "Sooner or later," he countered, "we all pay, Thazienne."

  Before Tazi could say anything else, Steorf returned, a servant in tow carrying a tray laden with an assortment of drinks and snacks. He did not miss the grip Tazi had had on Ebeian's wrist, but he said nothing. The three selected glasses of wine, and Tazi and Steorf waited while Ebeian picked through the food until he discovered a satisfactory morsel to nibble on.

  "I'm surprised," Ebian began, after dabbing a silken scarf at the corner of his mouth, "to see that you are still here this evening, Thazienne. Normally you do not grace these events for very long."

  "Observant of you, Ebeian. I'm actually searching for someone."

  "It's not me," Ebeian asked in mock horror, clutching at his heart. "I'm shattered." The ploy worked. Tazi broke up into chuckles and lightly slapped his arm.

  "Do you recall the small party my family hosted a few nights back," she asked.

  "How could I forget?" Ebeian began to extol the virtues of the beautiful gown Tazi had worn that night. She interrupted him before his commentary became too long. The heavy-handed way he always complimented her was beginning to strain her nerves.

  "That's not what I meant. Did you notice the man my mother was throwing at me all evening?"

  "Tall, brooding chap, much like our hawk over here." He pointed a delicate finger at Steorf. "Unusual tattoo on his neck, as I recall." For all his pompousness, Ebeian had a keen eye, and very little escaped his notice.

  "That's the one. As always, to humor my mother, I flirted with him a bit."

  "A bit," grumbled Steorf.

  "As the evening wore on," Tazi continued, trying to ignore Steorf's remark, "I gave him a little something to remember me by. He was dashing, all things considered. Normally, my mother's picks aren't nearly so easy on the eyes. That mark he bore made him seem exotic."

  Ebeian reached over and rubbed her gloved hands, though the purpose was more than mere flirtation. "You didn't give away that emerald ring you always wear," he noted astutely. "I can still feel it on your finger. Don't you ever take it off?"

  "That always stays with me. It was a gift from a mage a long time ago."

  Ebeian gave a high titter of a laugh. "At twenty-one years, there isn't much that was 'a long time ago' for you."

  "As I was saying," Tazi continued a bit peevishly, yanking her hands free, "I gave him a token of my affection." She paused and moved a thick lock away from her left ear to reveal a diamond stud. "He has the other one," she explained, "and I plan to liberate it from his dwelling this evening. At some later occasion, I'll demand that he show it to me, to prove how much I mean to him. When he can't produce it, I can denounce him as not being true to me, and then I'm free once more!" Her eyes crinkled in amusement.

  "How do you know he won't be home? Or if he is out, that he won't have the earring on him," Steorf asked. "He might be a dedicated suitor, you know."

  "Oh ye of little faith, questioning me like that. Have I ever led you wrong? Don't answer that," Tazi quickly added.

  "What will you do if you get caught," Steorf asked her.

  "You, of all people, should know what I'm capable of. Remind me, Ebeian, to tell you the time I pulled his fat out of the fire." She hooked a thumb in Steorf's direction. "Almost seven years ago to the day, and he still follows me around out of gratitude." She laughed deeply.

  "After she does that, Ebeian, allow me to tell you the real story," Steorf returned, as close to bantering as he ever got. The wine had mellowed him.

  "He won't be there," she continued confidently. "Everyone who is anyone will be here tonight. And," she added, "I gathered from our conversation the other evening that Ciredor is very eager to see and be seen. He won't be home. Though," she paused to scan the costumed gathering, "I have to admit I haven't yet been able to pick him out in this crowd."

  "I hope you're right about him being here," Steorf replied seriously.

  "And I hope you don't get caught like when you tried to rob me," Ebeian offered graciously.

  With her mask in place, it was next to impossible for either man tell if Tazi blushed at that remark. Underneath it, a frown did cross her face at the memory of a night not too long past. After being introduced to him by her mother, Tazi had attempted to remove some of Ebeian's belongings from his room at the Lady's Thighs Inn. Her timing had been off slightly, and Ebeian had returned before Tazi had made her exit. A struggle had resulted, and Ebeian had discovered quite a bit about Tazi that night.

  He sensed her discomfort and winked at her.

  She didn't even need to look over to know Steorf was ready to explode after that. She knew how he hated the familiar way Ebeian spoke of their encounters. The last thing she wanted tonight was to cause a scene or alienate Steorf. She valued him too much to allow that to transpire.

  Just the touch of her hand on his forearm caused his bunched muscles to relax. His black look, however, continued to fester. Ignoring the exchange, Ebeian blithely carried on.

  "We must try that again sometime, my dear," the elf chimed, "when you feel you're ready for a rematch."

  "You're right," Tazi bantered back. "We can see if you are still up for a battle with me. But there will be time enough for that later."

  Ever since Ebeian discovered in such a pleasant way Tazi's many charms, they often traded exchanges like that in the company of others. He was cautious never to reveal too much; he had his own subterfuges to guard, and Tazi never betrayed those, either. However, they danced awfully close to the truth at times.

  "What are you two talking about," Steorf demanded, no longer able to contain his anger.

  "You really haven't been around the city all that much, have you," Ebeian said, laughing.

  "Enough, you two," Tazi hissed at them as she pushed them apart. "I'd like to be able to slip out quietly, and you two starting a brawl would wreck my plans."

  Steorf reined in his temper. "Being one of the few women wearing red this evening, I think you might have a hard time going unnoticed." He nodded in the direction of Sham
ur.

  Tazi thought for a moment before she announced, "Then I will obviously have to be noticed by many. Gentlemen." She curtsied a last time to the men and strode off to select a new partner. Steorf said nothing but left an amused Ebeian standing alone.

  Tazi chose a domino-masked man from a pool of nearby suitors and let him lead her to the dance floor. She smiled at his banal conversation and laughed at the appropriate moments. When the tempo changed, she allowed another man to cut in. The rush of changing partners allowed Tazi to put the two men out of her mind. She had other plans for the evening and needed her wits about her.

  When the time seemed right, Tazi thanked her most recent partner and discreetly slipped out of the ballroom. From opposite sides of the hall, two pairs of eyes spied her departure.

  Tazi couldn't wait to get out of the dress she wore. While the style was chosen specifically to infuriate her mother, Tazi liked it only marginally more than her Sembian attire. All dresses, to her, simply slowed the wearer down and announced her presence to the world. She had yet to discover a discreet one.

  As she made her way to her rooms, Tazi noticed Larajin, one of her family's servants, lingering near the end of the hallway. An idea blossomed in her fertile mind.

  "Larajin," she called out to the startled maid, "I need your help." She entered her chambers, a bewildered Larajin in her wake.

  Tazi walked over to her wardrobe and flung open the doors. She deftly removed a small bundle that was nestled in the furthest recesses of the closet and tossed it onto a nearby settee. Then she turned to face her maid.

  "Strip, please," Tazi ordered. "I need you to play a part for me tonight." At her maid's puzzled expression, she burst into giggles.

  "I thought you needed some assistance with your gown," Larajin stammered. She slightly emphasized the word "your."

  "You couldn't be more right," Tazi confirmed, controlling her laughter as she began to peel the red dress from her body, "I do need help with this thing. And you're just the one to assist me." She brushed Larajin's helping hands aside and pulled her own arms free from the tight-fitted sleeves.