Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [11]
"I'm Man Al'maren," she said in her low, rich voice, "sent by the Harpers to find Caledan Caldorien. Satisfied?"
Caledan leaned nonchalantly against the brick wall bordering the street. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. What would the Harpers want with him now, after all these years? His face remained impassive. "Really? So why were you following me?"
The Harper woman angrily shed the remains of her tattered cloak. Beneath she was clad in a green velvet jacket and breeches of soft buckskin that matched her boots. A small silver pin, wrought in the shape of a crescent moon encircling a harp, glistened on her collar-the sigil of the Harpers.
"I'm beginning to wonder the same thing myself," she said disgustedly. "I thought there might be a chance you were the one I was searching for."
"This… er… what did you say his name was?" Caledan asked casually.
"Caledan Caldorien," the woman who called herself Man answered, kicking away the cloak and pacing the narrow alleyway in agitation. "Call me crazy, but with the way you dealt with that Zhen-er, that captain on the Street of Lanterns, I thought you might be Caldorien. He's supposed to have been a great hero, you know. At least, that's what all the stories tell."
"Oh, really?" Caledan asked, raising an eyebrow. No doubt they had sent Al'maren here to spy on the Zhents- that would be standard procedure-but Al'maren looked so wet behind the ears he was almost tempted to offer her a handkerchief. "So what makes you think now that I'm not the fellow you're after?" Caledan went on. "Oh, please!" Mari said with a husky laugh, halting for a moment to stare at Caledan. "No offense, friend, but now that I've seen you up close you look more like a vagabond cutpurse than a hero of renown."
Caledan spread out his hands. "No offense taken," he replied amiably.
"Besides, if you really were Caldorien, you'd have a set of reed pipes with you," she continued wearily. "You don't happen to play the pipes, do you, scoundrel?"
"I wouldn't know which end to blow in," Caledan said, lying smoothly.
"I didn't think so," Mari said, sighing. "Caledan Caldorien was supposed to have been the finest piper in the Realms and one of the bravest men as well. We could use his help in dealing with the… the city's new ruler."
Harpers, Caledan thought derisively. They send one agent on what was probably her first mission to counter a city crawling with Zhentarim. That was just like them. They were idealists almost to the point of idiocy Mari Al'maren no doubt thought that a few old, tired ballads and a few lofty, outdated ideals were somehow enough to end all the suffering and darkness in the world. Caledan knew better. He, of all people, knew that music-and the Harpers- would never be enough.
"Well, I'm sorry to have caused you trouble, friend scoundrel," Mari continued, "though you seem to have paid me back for it." She rubbed her shoulder. "I've got to keep searching. This city is supposed to have been Caldorien's last known home, though gods know why anyone would live here." She looked distastefully around the dingy street.
"It wasn't always so bad," Caledan said, taking a step toward her. "It was beautiful once. You know, legendary Iriaebor of the Thousand Spires."
She smiled crookedly. Mari was not a woman who would ever be accused of being pretty, Caledan thought, but there was a warmth to her smile that made him grin back. "I'll let you know if I run into this 'Caldorien' character."
"Don't bother," she replied wryly. "It's going to take me a while to heal my bruises from our first encounter. So do me a favor, friend scoundrel. Let's say farewell."
Caledan performed a stiff mock bow. "As you wish." He straightened up-and his eyes widened in shock.
Mari frowned at him in puzzlement. "What is it, scoundrel?"
"Don't look now," he whispered, "but I don't think you were the only one who has been doing a little following."
Mari spun swiftly on her heels, and the blood drained from her face. Not a hundred paces away three black dogs