Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [10]
"How dare you?" Her voice was low and even, but there was scorching fire in it. "How dare you sneak behind my back, like some cowardly adulterous husband, just so you can indulge your childish impulses? In case you've forgotten, Caledan Caldorien, you are not the only Harper in Iriaebor."
Anger flared in his eyes. "Well, maybe I should be. After all this time, you still don't have the faintest idea how evil the Zhentarim are, do you, Mari? There's only one thing worth doing with a member of the Black Network-and that involves a good sharp blade, not polite questions." His voice rose dangerously. "And by the way, I am not your husband."
"Believe me, I'm aware of that fact," Mari replied caustically. All in a rush, harsh words she had been saving up for months poured out of her. "I just don't understand, Caledan. You never would have behaved this rashly a year ago. I'm not sure exactly what is going on, but you… you've gotten careless-no, not careless, but reckless.
You don't give a damn about anything or anyone these days, least of all yourself." She was shouting now. The noise would wake everyone up, but she didn't care.
"You've changed, and I'm not certain I even know who you are anymore, Caledan Caldorien!"
"Maybe you never did," he snarled, clenching a fist in rage. "Maybe you don't have the faintest idea, Mari Al'maren!"
It happened so fast that, afterward, Mari was never certain what really happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caledan's shadow expand on the wall, growing to monstrous proportions. Like a black serpent, the shadow lashed out an arm, striking at her own shadow. A searing line of fire raced across her cheek. She screamed, reeling backward, falling to her knees. Dazed, she lifted a hand to her cheek. It came away wet with blood.
Suddenly, Caledan was there, kneeling beside her. "By the gods-Mari, are you all right?" His voice was desperate.
"Mari, talk to me!" He gripped her shoulders with big hands.
She shrank away from him, casting a furtive glance at the wall. Now their shadows were mundane silhouettes, nothing more. Gradually, she let herself relax into his strong embrace. "I'm all right," she gasped. "It's a scratch, that's all."
"But how did…?"
Mari thought of the way his shadow had moved… or had it? She had been angry and distracted. Caledan could make the shadows dance on the wall-that was the nature of his shadow magic-but the shadows he controlled did not have physical substance or the ability to harm. Maybe in her rage she had imagined it. She could have scratched her cheek when she fell in her attempt to back away from him. She realized that her anger had receded, whatever the explanation for her injury. All she felt now was a great weariness.
"Forget it, Caledan." She took a deep breath. "It's nothing. Really."
Mari pulled herself to her feet. She drew a handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her cheek; already the flow of blood had stopped. There were more pressing matters to concern her now. She took her wine-colored cloak from its hook and opened the door.
Quickly, Caledan stood. "Where are you going?" he asked in confusion.
"The Barbed Hook. It might have slipped your mind, but we still have a mission to complete." She gave him a wan smile. "So are you coming or not, Harper?"
His wolfish visage was unreadable. At last he nodded. "Lead the way."
*****
The narrow crag upon which Iriaebor's Old City was built soared a full three hundred feet above the surrounding plains. Leaving the precarious towers and mazelike streets of the Old City behind, Mari and Caledan made their way down a serpentine road to the sprawling New City below. It was nearing midmorning, and the New City's broad avenues were crowded with throngs of cityfolk. Iriaebor was prosperous these days.
And that was precisely why the Zhentarim would love to dig their claws into the city once again.