Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [62]
Suddenly she was in his arms, clinging to him tightly. Their lips met, and Caledan felt a dizzying wave of fire inflame him. He held her close, and for a single crystalline moment the darkness around them was forgotten.
Then they heard the hiss of a sword being drawn.
Caledan and Mari broke free of each other. Caledan pushed her behind his back, spinning around. He found himself facing a swordpoint inches from his chest. A Zhentarim warrior held the hilt, an evil leer on his scarred face. Caledan considered reaching for the dagger concealed in his boot, but he knew he would never have the time to grab it. Behind him Mari had started to move, but he held her by the wrist. He didn't want her to do anything foolish. The Zhent couldn't kill them both at once. At least she would have time to escape down the alley.
"Harpers." The Zhent sneered. "Looks like I'm going to be popular with Lord Cutter tomorrow."
The Zhent raised his sword-and then hesitated. His leer dissolved into a look of confusion. He shook his head slowly. The words he uttered were lost in a stream of foamy blood gushing from his lips. The warrior's eyes went dull as he slumped to the cobblestones. Caledan and Mari stared at the lifeless Zhent.
A small, wiry form stepped out of the shadows.
"Good thing I was out for a walk," Ferret said, his crooked smile showing in the moonlight. Caledan could only nod. 'Terrible, isn't it, the garbage people leave lying about the streets these days?" the thief went on nonchalantly. He wiped his dagger clean on the dead man's cloak. "I'll find a more appropriate place to dispose of this refuse. The wharfs are always a good choice. They already stink. Why don't you two hurry on inside?" Caledan patted the thief's thin shoulder in thanks, then Ferret vanished once again into the shadows. Caledan turned to see how the Harper was doing, but the alley behind him was empty. She had already vanished inside.
Caledan watched the sunrise through the panes of the window in his small room. Then he dressed and headed downstairs. Estah and Jolle were both seeing to customers in the common room. But Mari was in the kitchen. Caledan winced when he saw her.
How the kiss last night had happened, he was not at all certain, and he was even less certain about what it meant. The Harper was stubborn, self-righteous, overly critical, and she hardly fit any common definition of beauty. Caledan did not even remotely like her. So why couldn't he forget the warm sensation of her lips against his?
Mari was busily scouring a table. Her sleeves were rolled up, her hair was tied at the nape of her neck, and her cheeks glowed as she vigorously scrubbed at the wood with a rag and a scattering of sand. So intent was she on her task, she did not notice him watching her. Her jaw was clenched tightly, her brow furrowed with a scowl. Suddenly Mari looked up. Their eyes met briefly, then each looked away.
"Listen, Harper-" Caledan began after a moment of awkward silence.
"It's all right, scoundrel," she said, turning back to her work. "You don't have to apologize."
"Apologize?" he said, a bit puzzled. Then he shrugged. "Very well, Harper. I just wanted to let you know that, about what happened… I mean, you and I…"
"I said you don't have to apologize, Caledan. It was an accident, that's all. I know it didn't mean anything to you." Mari seemed to be scrubbing a particularly stubborn spot, practically scraping a hole in the tabletop.
"No-no, of course not," Caledan said, forcing a grin. "I'm relieved you feel the same way. I guess we can just forget about it then."
Mari nodded. "I think that would be best." A silence followed. Thankfully Estah bustled into the kitchen then, dispelling the awkwardness.
It was early evening when Tyveris arrived at the inn after spending the day in the library of Everard Abbey. The lore-master had been searching for references to the bard Talek Talembar and his battle with the Shadowking. If Ravendas truly was searching for this "Nightstone" the mage had spoken of, then Talembar's shadow song might represent their