Crypt of the Shadowking (10 page)

“Can he really do that, Estah?” Mari asked when they were alone. “The trick with the shadows, I mean.”

“Indeed he can. Shadow magic, I always called it. He could make the shadows on the wall move and act as he pleased with the music of his reed pipes. Of course, he put little stock in it. He regarded it simply as a minor talent that ran in his family. But however small a thing it was, it was magic.” Estah’s eyes glimmered in the firelight, then she sighed. “Now, of course, he won’t play a note of music at all, not for any reason.”

“Why, Estah? Why did Caledan forsake his music, and the Harpers?”

“You don’t know, lass?” Estah asked softly. “I thought you knew about Ravendas.”

Mari shrugged. “Only that Caledan had met her before. That’s all I know.”

Estah sighed deeply. “It’s a long tale, but I think it’s one you should hear. I suppose I should start by telling you about the Fellowship of the Dreaming Dragon.” She poured a cup of fragrant tea, scented with mint and camomile, for each of them. Mari leaned forward, listening intently.

“I’ll never forget the first time I met Caledan.” Estah smiled with the memory. “It must be more than a dozen years ago by now. He was a young man then, on his first mission for the Harpers. As it happened, his travels brought him to Iriaebor, to this very inn, which I had only just bought. Over the next year or so his journeys frequently brought him to the Dreaming Dragon, and we became friends. And then one day, before I really had a chance to consider what I was doing, he told me he had need of a healer, and the next thing I knew I was off on one of his missions with him!”

Estah shook her head and laughed. “If I had known what adventuring was like, I doubt I would have ever left the warm comforts of the inn. But once enlisted, I knew I could never let Caledan go off on his journeys alone again. They were simply too dangerous. He needed a healer with him.”

“But you weren’t the only one to journey with him, were you?” Man asked.

Estah nodded, sipping her tea. “That’s right. One by one, others that we met on our journeys joined the Fellowship to help Caledan. The first was Morhion, a mage of considerable power. After him came Ferret, who was always more rogue than hero. And then there was Tyveris, a great warrior but also a gentle soul. Over the years, and through our travels, we became almost like a family.” Estah smiled fondly. “No, I think we were a family.” Her broad face grew solemn.

“Where are the others now?” Man asked gently.

“Last I heard, Tyveris lived north of Iriaebor,” Estah replied. “As for the others, I’m not certain. No one could ever keep track of Ferret for long. Morhion may still live in the city, but if so I don’t know where. I haven’t heard from him since the day we went our separate ways. Even when we traveled together he was a strange, secretive man.”

“But you still haven’t told me why Caledan left the Harpers, Estah, why the Fellowship disbanded.”

“Let me finish the tale,” Estah said with a sigh, setting down her teacup. “I think you’ll understand then. You see, there was one other who joined the Fellowship. Her name was Kera, and she was a Harper, too. I once heard it said about Kera that her hair made sunlight seem pale, and that compared to her eyes the morning sky was colorless. But it was her heart I remember most. She was a woman of true beauty, within and without.”

How lucky for her, Man almost found herself saying, but then she bit her tongue. Why should she care what Caldorien’s old friends looked like?

“You should have seen Caledan in those days,” Estah said with a laugh. “You wouldn’t have recognized him. Mari. He was young and handsome, full of humor and hope. I think that was Kera’s influence on him. Never have I seen two people more in love than Kera and he. They used to sing the most marvelous duets.”

Estah rose to put another piece of wood on the fire. She stirred the coals with a poker, and sparks flew up the chimney. She sat back down and gathered her thoughts for a moment before going on. “It was seven years ago that Caledan and Kera finally decided to wed. They were going to take their vows in Twilight Hall in Berdusk itself, before all of the Harpers. But on the eve of our journey to Berdusk, word came from Twilight Hall that a Zhentarim lord was raising an army of goblinkin outside the walls of Hluthvar, a town some leagues to the north of Iriaebor. As it turned out, the Zhent’s name was Ravendas.

“Caledan and Kera accepted the mission. The wedding was postponed.”

Mari edged forward on her chair, her tea forgotten, as Estah described how Caledan and the Fellowship managed to ruin Ravendas’s plans to usurp the town.

“Goblins are clannish creatures,” Estah explained, “and goblin tribes are constantly feuding with each other. We discovered that Ravendas’s army was comprised of goblins from two different tribes. We managed to plant rumors among each of the tribes that the other tribe was planning to betray them. Driven nearly mad with suspicion, the leaders of the two tribes attacked each other. The rest of the goblins quickly followed suit. Ravendas’s army actually destroyed itself. The town of Hluthvar was saved.

“In the chaos of the battle Caledan managed to capture Ravendas, and he threw her in chains,” Estah went on. However, when he was off routing a few straggling bands of goblins, Ravendas managed to escape.” “But how?” Mari asked.

Estah’s face hardened. “Ravendas was always a sly one. She could don a look of remorse as easily as you might don your cloak. At the time it happened, Kera was the only one in camp. Ravendas spoke to her, pretty words I’m sure, and finally she convinced Kera that she was truly repentant, that she wished to begin a new life. Kera believed her, and she unlocked Ravendas’s chains.”

Estah’s voice trembled and her eyes grew distant, as if she were reliving it all over again. “By the time we rode back to camp, Ravendas had escaped. We found Kera, her fair face pressed to the cold ground. The chains that had bound Ravendas were wrapped about her neck, wet with her blood.” She shook her head in sorrow. “Kera was dead. Ravendas had strangled her.”

“But I don’t understand,” Mari said, angered by what seemed Kera’s pointless death. “Why did Kera believe Ravendas? It should have been obvious that she was lying.”

“True,” Estah said with a nod, “but Kera wanted to believe. You see, Mari, Kera and Ravendas were sisters.”

Mari stared at the healer in silent shock.

“Caledan blamed himself, of course,” Estah went on sadly. “And he blamed the Harpers as well. He broke with the Harpers that day, and that was when the Fellowship disbanded. We each went on to lead our separate lives, and as far as I know Caledan has not played a note of music since. I think it reminds him of Kera far too much.”

Mari did not know what to say. The healer’s tale made her regret a few of the harsh things she had said to Caldorien.

Estah shook her head, regarding the small hands resting against her gray homespun skirt. “If only there had been enough healing in these two old hands,” she said softly. “Perhaps Kera might have lived.”

Mari reached out and took the healer’s hands in her own. “But you can’t fault yourself, Estah, no more than Caledan can.”

Estah pulled her hands away. “Oh, yes, I can,” she said sternly. “I can, and I do. But while Kera’s death shattered Caledan, it made me strong, Mari. I vowed that day never to let another person I love die. Never.” She rose to her feet abruptly.

“I’d best see if Pog and Nog are in bed yet,” Estah said, then left Mari alone in the flickering light of the fire.

It was quiet in the Dreaming Dragon. Mari sat at a small table in the corner of her room, bathed in the light of a single candle. She unrolled a piece of parchment and dipped a quill in a small pot of ink. Her hand wavered for a moment as she thought of Estah’s tale. Then she swallowed hard and began to write. She had her duty. When she was finished she read over the brief missive, written in her flowing hand:

To Belhuar Thantarth Master of Twilight Hall

Greetings!

I have made contact with Caldorien as ordered. He has agreed to help counter the Zhentarim in Iriaebor of his own will, and all goes well He has learned that Cutter is in truth Ravendas, but he does not suspect our knowledge. More importantly, I have confirmed the rumors concerning his shadow magic. I shall make contact again in one tenday.

Milil’s Blessing! Mari Al’maren

Mari deftly folded the parchment and sealed it with hot wax from the candle. She would find a rider tomorrow who could deliver it to Twilight Hall in Berdusk. For a moment she watched the shadows cast by the candle’s light flicker on the wall of her room. It was almost as if they were dancing, she thought, and then she blew out the flame.

Seven

It was midmorning two days later when Estah returned from a trip to the free market in the New City. The few patrons in the common room looked up in astonishment from their tables. Most had known the innkeeper for years, but few had ever seen her angry.

“She has gone too far this time!” Estah exclaimed furiously.

Jolle hurried into the common room. He took one look at his wife and, sensing something was terribly wrong, gave the signal. Instantly the inn’s occupants leaped from their tables. The shutters were closed, the door locked, and lookouts headed upstairs to keep watch. Caledan entered as Jolle was trying in vain to calm down the healer.

“She has gone too far!” Estah repeated, her cheeks flushed. She snatched the board bearing Lord Cutter’s Rules from the wall and flung it to the floor.

“Ravendas?” Caledan ventured, his expression grim. Look at this,” Estah said, her voice trembling as she thrust a crumpled-up piece of parchment toward Caledan. “I saw it just a few minutes ago, posted in the free market.” Caledan unfolded the parchment. It was an official notice. Quickly he read it, his heart sinking.

“What’s going on?” Mari asked as she descended the stairs. She and Caledan usually kept out of the common room, but the commotion had brought her down. Caledan handed the parchment to her, and she read the declaration with a solemn face.

“It looks like Ravendas has arranged a bit of entertainment for the city,” he said, gritting his teeth. “There’s going to be a public hanging tomorrow afternoon. One of the criminals to be executed is an old friend of ours. His name is Ferret.”

Estah sank down into a chair. All the spirit seemed to go out of her, and she buried her face in her hands.

“It’s all right, wife, I’m here,” Jolle said, holding her shoulders tightly. “All’s going to be well. You’ll see.”

Estah wiped her eyes with the corner of her skirt. “I’m sorry, husband. I’m weary, that’s all. I’m just so weary of Ravendas ruining everything that I care about.” She shook her head. “She’s wounded this city so deeply, I wonder if we will ever be able to heal it”

Mari looked at Caledan, her face tense. The message was clear: We have to do something.

He nodded. There was no question about it. Ferret had once been one of his best, if not most trustworthy, friends. He was not about to let Ravendas claim another member of the Fellowship.

“Estah,” Caledan said gravely, kneeling down to talk to the healer, “Ferret got us out of more scrapes than I can count during those years we all traveled together. We both owe our lives to him, several times over. This is the time for us to repay him. We can’t lose hope.

“Still, a little extra help wouldn’t hurt,” Caledan went on, standing up. “Estah, you said once that Tyveris still lived near the city. Can you tell me how I might find him?”

“I think so,” Estah ventured, “but…”

“No buts,” Caledan said, striking his palm with a fist. “If we’re really going to rescue Ferret, we’re going to need that warrior’s sword.”

Caledan rode through the New City toward Iriaebor’s north gate, keeping the hood of his blue traveling cloak drawn over his head. It seemed as if city guards were more common than rats these days, and he had no doubt they were still searching for him and the Harper. It had felt a little strange donning the old cloak that morning, knowing that Cormik’s young apprentice, Dario, had died wearing it. But Cormik had given it back to Caledan after Dario’s body had been returned to the city for burial. And Caledan couldn’t bring himself to throw the cloak away. He had worn it for too many years, on too many journeys.

A trio of guards were keeping watch over the city’s north gate. They might have given Caledan some trouble, but they were distracted by a flock of sheep being driven into the city for slaughter. The sheep balked as a red-faced peasant man tried futilely to herd them through the gates. The scene erupted into a cacophony of bleating and cursing. Caledan took the opportunity to slip through the gates unnoticed.

“Remind me to be grateful the next time I eat mutton stew,” Caledan commented to Mista as they left the walls of the city behind. The gray mare replied with a snort that sounded uncannily like laughter.

The day was fine and clear and the midday sun warm.

Caledan breathed deeply as he rode across plains that were in midst of taking on spring’s brilliant hues. It was good to get out of the city.

To Caledan, Iriaebor looked like some vast, dark toadstool looming on the Tor, a blight on the land, a thing of disease and decay. Every day the city’s streets were growing dirtier, its buildings shabbier, its people poorer and more desperate. And every day the streets grew emptier, as well. Soon it was going to be more ghost town than city. The Zhentarim continued their mysterious abduction of able-bodied cityfolk, forcing them to dig into the hard rock beneath the city lord’s tower. But for what purpose? That was a secret even Cormik’s agents were unable to fathom. Caledan sighed, putting the troubles out of his head for the moment.

It was early afternoon when he found the standing stone Estah had described, marking a road branching off from the main highway. He followed the road up a low, rounded hill, finding himself before an edifice of gray stone, its ornately embellished spires rising above a walled courtyard.

“This must be the place, Mista,” he said with a frown, dismounting.

Caledan pulled the rope that hung next to the wall’s stout oaken gate and heard the clang of a bell. After several moments an ancient man clad in a simple robe of drab brown opened the door. When Caledan explained that he had come in search of his old friend, Tyveris, the man smiled and bade him enter.