Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [98]
He turned around to find himself looking into the eyes of a grizzled, powerfully built sergeant "Say, I'm glad I caught you, Breldurn. Lord Cutter would've had my head if I missed you. She wants to see you right away." He winked then, a wicked smile crossing his face. "You lucky devil. I told you she had an eye for you. Now come with me. I'm to see you to her chambers myself. Milord's orders."
Caledan glanced in panic at Ferret, but the thief's eyes were wide. He didn't know what to do either. Caledan swore inwardly. Apparently he had had the misfortune to steal the uniform of some man Ravendas favored. Thank the gods he was wearing a visor.
"Right now?" Caledan said, keeping his voice husky.
"Yes, now," the man called Drim said. "Do you want to keep Cutter waiting?"
"I suppose not," Caledan said hoarsely. Drim frowned.
"What's the matter with your voice, Breldurn?"
Caledan gave a cough. "Cold," he explained.
Drim grinned slyly. "Well, I hope you'll have enough vigor to handle Cutter properly. Now, let's go before she strings us both up. Our master's a pretty one, but she doesn't like it when she's kept waiting."
Caledan sighed, resigned to his fate. A score of guards were marching down the corridor. He and Ferret would not be able to fight their way out.
"I'll meet you later," he said to Ferret The thief looked at him with surprise. "That's an order!"
"Yes, sir," Ferret said, saluting. Without another glance, he hurried away down the hall. At least Ferret would escape. Caledan could be confident of that.
"All right, Drim," Caledan said, taking a deep breath-'Take me to Lord Cutter."
The heavy, iron-banded door shut behind Caledan, and he heard the sound of a lock turning. The two Zhentarim warriors outside the portal had taken his sword. There was nothing to do now except to wait for Ravendas.
The chamber he found himself in was circular, about twenty paces across. The dark stone floor was strewn with silvery furs, and the walls hung with richly woven tapestries. The furniture was ornate and expensive-looking. A fire burned brightly in the great archway of a marble fireplace. There were windows facing to the south and west, but it was a good distance to the courtyard below. Jumping would be a desperate option indeed.
Suddenly Caledan heard the faint sound of music. It was coming from near the fire, the sweet, rich voice of a lute. The melody was none Caledan recognized, but it was both lovely and sorrowful, filled with a sense of longing.
Curious, he walked slowly toward the source of the music. It was a boy, sitting in a large armchair that had concealed him from Caledan's immediate view. The boy was small-no more than eight or nine, Caledan guessed-his feet dangling several inches above the floor. His smooth hair was raven-dark, his skin as pale as snow. His green eyes were widely spaced, bordered by dark lashes, and his cheeks were lightly touched by blooms of pink from the heat of the fire.
The boy strummed the lacquered lute with small, perfect hands, gazing absently into the fire. Caledan simply stood there, entranced, listening to the music. Finally the song ended on a long, wistful note, and the boy's hands fell from he instrument. "Hello," he said in a pure, sweet voice, though he barely lifted his gaze from the fire.
"Hello," Caledan stammered, a bit startled by the calmness of the boy's tone.
"You've come to see my mother, haven't you?" he said gazing up at Caledan. Behind his visor a look of shock passed over Caledan's face. My mother?
"You didn't know she had a son, did you?" the boy said.
"No, I didn't," Caledan replied truthfully enough.
The boy shrugged. "Most people don't. I think she keeps me a secret."
Fascinated, Caledan knelt by the boy's chair. "Why does she keep you a secret?" he asked, his voice gentle.
The boy smiled, yet it was a melancholy expression, making his face seem wise beyond his years. "You don't know my mother terribly well, do you? Everything