Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [29]
Without a word the boy slipped from the chair and sat at Ravendas's feet. His small fingers plucked at the dulcimer, and a sweet, sorrowful music filled the air. Ravendas closed her eyes for a moment, drifting with the music.
It would be a pity if Caldorien truly has fled Iriaebor, she thought. I would like to give him a taste of my power. He spurned me once. But no one, not the Harpers, not even those fools in Zhentil Keep, can stand against me now.
Her eyes opened and she regarded Snake, still standing subserviently near the ornately carved door. "How fare the excavations?" she asked him, her voice languid now.
"Very well, my lord. Soon you shall have what you desire. Every soul in Iriaebor will belong to you, and even those beyond."
"Excellent." A small black kitten crawled into Ravendas's lap, and she stroked its soft fur absently. Her cheeks were flushed with the wine, with thoughts of power. And of Cal-dorien.
The boy's music had stopped. The chamber was silent. Ravendas ran a hand over his dark, glossy hair-hair as dark as shadows, such a striking contrast to her own golden tresses. "Go with the lord steward, my son," she said to him. "It is late."
The boy nodded silently and stood, kissing her once upon each cheek. Snake turned to leave, and the small boy padded after him. They left Ravendas alone in her chamber, petting the black kitten, a smile curled about the corners of her deep red lips.
"Do you require anything, Kellen?" Snake asked when they reached the boy's room. The boy shook his head, clutching his dulcimer tightly.
"Do you think she will keep me when she is done with me?" Kellen asked then, with the utter seriousness of which only a child is capable. "Or will she break me when she is through?"
Snake regarded the child for a long moment. The boy was just eight years old, but he always struck Snake as being older than his years. There was a wisdom about him that was odd in one so young. But then, with a mother such as Ravendas, there were many sights this child had witnessed which other children never dreamed of, not in their most terrible nightmares.
"Go to sleep, Kellen," he said finally. The boy shrugged and stepped into his room, shutting the door behind him.
Snake turned and descended the tower's central stairwell. He had orders to give.
Caledan and Mari sat at a table in the Dreaming Dragon's private dining chamber. A map of the city lay unrolled before them, its corners weighted down by mugs of ale. The two of them were arguing, as usual, this time about a possible raid on a weapons warehouse in the New City.
"Either you're feebleminded or you're mad, Harper," Caledan barked, thrusting a finger at the map. Disagreeing with Mari was getting to be a habit. "There's no route of escape. Ravendas's guards would have our backs to the wall and their swords at our throats in a second."
Mari opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly Estah hurried into the room, slamming the door behind her. Her brown eyes were wide with fear.
"Estah, what is it?" Mari asked in concern.
"City guards!" the halfling healer managed to gasp. "They're searching every house and business on the lane. And they're headed this way."
Mari shot a worried look at Caledan. "Do you think we can slip out the garden and into the alley without being seen?"
Caledan laughed grimly. The Harper's inexperience was showing again. "You don't have a clue how the Zhentarim work, do you, Harper? They'll have someone keeping watch on the back door of every place they search."
He stood and pushed the heavy oaken table aside. "It's still here, isn't it, Estah?" He stuck a finger through a knothole and pulled. A small panel opened up in the floor. This part of the inn jutted precariously out over the edge of the Tor. Through the trapdoor Caledan could see the maze-work of beams that supported the structure and beneath them nothing but air and space until the jagged bottom of the Tor three