Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [91]
Estah watched worriedly. Ferret nervously fidgeted with a dagger, flipping it from hand to hand. Tyveris started to say something to try to break the tension in the air, but then Mari went on, the words tumbling from her lips. "Thantarth, the Harper who gave me this mission, feared that you would never have agreed to help us, Caledan, not if we had simply come straight to you and told you that we needed you and your magic."
Caledan grunted. 'Thantarth was probably right on that account. He knew I would have laughed in his face if the Harpers had come begging to me. But tell me this, Harper. Did Thantarth order you to pretend to love me as well? Or was that a little bit of improvisation you came up with on your own to get me to do what you wanted?"
"No!" Mari shouted.
"Don't worry, Harper," Caledan said sharply. His eyes were hard and cold. "You've accomplished your mission perfectly. I'm going back to Iriaebor, and I'm going to keep Ravendas from getting her hands on the Nightstone. But it's not for you, or the Harpers."
He shot a dark glance at Morhion. As always the mage's handsome visage was impassive. "This time," Caledan said, 'I'm going to get my revenge against Ravendas. So send a missive to Thantarth, Harper, and inform him that everything has worked out just as you hoped. You've done your job. And when this is all over, you can go back to Twilight Hall in Berdusk and be with your precious Harpers, and I won't ever have to look at you again." Caledan spun around, his boot heel grinding against the cold stone. Tyveris laid a hand on his shoulder, but Caledan jerked free and stomped away.
"Caledan!" he heard the Harper cry behind him. He did not let himself hear the anguish in her voice. "Caledan, come back!"
He kept his back to her as he walked away.
Seventeen
"You have failed me, Snake." Ravendas prowled about her chamber, clad in a gown of midnight black. She held a polished, gold-hilted stiletto, twirling it absently in her hands. She paused before an intricate tapestry depicting two lovers embracing in a greenwood. "You know what I do with servants who fail me."
Snake watched her with his hard, flat eyes. "It is true Caldorien escaped your Zhentarim sorcerer in the Fields of the Dead, my lord," Snake said in his dry voice. "Yet he must find his way back to Iriaebor. We shall have all the gates into the city guarded. He will not escape us."
"That is not good enough!" Ravendas snarled. She plunged the stiletto into the priceless tapestry and slashed downward, tearing open a gash that passed directly through the serenely smiling lovers. She threw the knife down disgustedly, her face twisted into an expression of fury and madness. "I want Caldorien now. Do you understand me, Snake? Now! If you fail me again, I personally will cut out your heart." She slumped into a chair. The rage bled from her face, leaving it pale, but the madness still swirled in her blue eyes.
"My lord, I will-"
"Silence," she said broodingly. "Leave me, Snake." She stared sullenly at the ruined tapestry, scratching at the arms of the chair.
"As you wish, my lord."
Snake bowed, drifting from the room. He made his way through the tower to his private chamber. These black moods were overwhelming Ravendas more and more often of late. She was beginning to speak of Caldorien as much as she did of the Nightstone and her ambition to rule all of the Caravan Cities. She was growing erratic in her judgment, and foolish as well. That could put everything in jeopardy. Soon Ravendas would outlive her usefulness.
Snake shut the door to his chamber. He was alone. He took the dim crystal from its wooden chest. It was time to contact the shadevar. Caldorien had escaped the Zhentarim Snake had sent into the Fields of the