Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [104]
"As you wish, my lord." Snake bowed his head, starting to walk from the chamber.
"And, Snake," Ravendas called after him, "send Kellen to me. I want to be certain that my son is fully prepared for tomorrow."
Snake hesitated for a moment. "Yes, my lord," he said, then walked from the room, leaving Ravendas smiling with self-satisfaction.
The hour was late. The Dreaming Dragon was silent. Though the moon was but a thin, faint sliver, the pure light of the stars spilled in through the window of Mari's room like liquid silver. The Harper lay in her bed, wakeful, her eyes gazing out the small round window. She could see the spindly shapes of the city's towers looming dimly in the starlight like gray ghosts. Or like tombstones, she thought.
Tomorrow night was the dark of the moon. Tomorrow night everything would be decided, for good or ill.
That evening she and Cormik had finalized their plans in the secret chamber beneath the Prince and Pauper. She had expected a representative of the Purple Masks Guild to be in attendance as well but had been surprised when Guildmaster Bock himself arrived.
These last days of planning had been wearisome for Man. Tyveris had proved a great help to her with his tactical advice, but she could have used Caledan's support. However, Caledan had been silent and brooding ever since his return from the tower the day before. Something had happened to him there, something he wasn't telling the others. His eyes had a haunted look. A dozen times she had wanted to reach out to comfort him, but each time she had pulled back.
Once, for a heartbeat, she had almost thought she recognized the identical desire in his eyes. But the bitter words they had spoken at the tomb of Talek Talembar hung on the air between them, and neither had spoken.
Man tried to turn her thoughts away from Caledan. Her mission was everything now. I hope what I'm doing is right, Master Andros, she murmured inwardly.
She sighed and slipped from the bed. She was clad only in a thin nightdress and pulled her woolen cloak about her for warmth. There was going to be no sleep for her, not this night.
She opened the door of her room quietly and slipped softly down the hallway. She heard a floorboard creak above her head, probably Jolle or Ferret steadfastly keeping watch on the narrow lane that led to the Dreaming Dragon.
When she started down the stairwell to fix herself a cup of tea, she was surprised to see a flicker of firelight from below. Somebody must still be up, she realized. She stepped into the warm, firelit common room and found herself greeted by the chill gaze of the mage, Morhion.
He sat in a chair by the fire, the shadows playing across his proud features. He held a glass of pale wine in his hand, but it was full, as if he had not taken even a sip. Man hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then moved to a chair opposite the mage. He inclined his head slightly, but said nothing.
For a time both of them sat in silence, watching the coals glowing on the hearth. Finally Mari gathered her courage and spoke. "There was no sleep for you tonight, either?"
"I have a momentous decision to make, Harper." The mage spoke softly. "Such decisions preclude sleep, I fear."
"Decision?" Mari asked. She almost thought she heard a tinge of regret in the mage's voice.
"Yes, a decision. Perhaps you can offer some guidance, Harper. Does one do what he feels is his duty, what he is bound to do? Or does one do what his secret heart whispers to him?" His eyes were intent upon her.
Mari looked away from the mage's piercing gaze. He seemed to have read her own inner struggle perfectly. She had fought long and hard to decide whether to accept her love for Caledan, even though she knew it would compromise her duties as a Harper. "I too have tried to make a decision, Morhion. But sometimes such decisions are made for you by someone else."
The mage nodded. He understood.