Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [11]
A thought struck her. Kellen had told them about the apparition he witnessed yesterday, and she wondered if this strange occurrence had something to do with the Zhentarim. Mari had no doubt that Kellen had in truth seen the ghost of Talek Talembar. She had witnessed Talembar's shade once herself, far away in the Fields of the Dead, and Kellen's description of the ghost coincided with her memories. Yet what did the appearance of the ghost portend? And what of his peculiar message? The old king hath fallen… and a new king doth rise to take his place. Perhaps it was a warning that the Zhentarim plotted against City Lord Bron. The appearance of the ghost had left them all shaken, except for Caledan. He had merely brushed the strange occurrence aside, as he did everything these days.
As they walked, Mari glanced sidelong at Caledan. For a time, after the Fellowship defeated Ravendas in the crypt of the Shadowking, life with Caledan had been joyous. Then, gradually-so gradually she didn't even notice it at first-they had slipped back into their old habits, quarreling bitterly as often as they embraced. She sighed deeply.
Consciously, Mari forced her thoughts to the mission at hand. Morhion had come to the inn yesterday bearing news from their old friend, the monk Tyveris. Tyveris had once been a member of the Fellowship. Now he served as an advisor to City Lord Bron in the High Tower. According to Tyveris, the perpetrator of the unexplained murders had finally been apprehended. Two nights ago, city guards had caught a thief beside the mangled corpse of a petty nobleman. The mystery, Tyveris reported, had been solved. Yet for some reason, Mari did not feel as certain as the monk. It was difficult to believe that a common thief could be responsible for over a score of grisly deaths. Mari fully intended to visit the dungeon, to question the thief before he received judgment. However, first there was the task at hand.
Mari and Caledan turned from the main avenue and picked their way down a narrow lane, trying to avoid the rivulet of foul water that trickled down the middle. The city was not so crowded here. The rank scent of rotting fish hung on the air; gulls cried out raucously above. Between ramshackle warehouses, Mari caught a glimpse of a flat, silvery surface, the Chionthar River. The two reached the end of the lane, finding themselves before a dilapidated building fashioned from the overturned hull of a barnacle-encrusted galleon. The Barbed Hook.
Mari and Caledan exchanged looks. Making an assault on a Zhentarim lair by daylight had its risks, but Zhents tended to do their work under cover of night. They were used to fighting in the dark and to resting during daylight hours. With luck, that would give Mari and Caledan the advantage.
Caledan gestured to the door of the tavern, his grin almost like that of old. "After you, my lady."
"You're too kind," she replied dryly. She sauntered casually toward the door.
And kicked it in.
The two Harpers stepped through a cloud of splinters and dust into the murky interior of the tavern. A dozen coarse faces gaped in surprise at the sudden intrusion. Quickly, surprise gave way to anger. "Harpers!" someone shouted.
"You forgot to take your badge off again," Caledan said in annoyance, jabbing a finger at the silver moon-and-harp brooch pinned to Mari's jacket. "Now they know who we are."
"Oh, bother," she replied with mock exasperation. "I suppose that means we'll have to kill them all."
Caledan bared his teeth in a nasty smile. "Why, I suppose you're right."
A brawny sailor launched himself forward, ready to snap Caledan's neck with his big, callused hands. In one fluid movement, Caledan crouched down, drew a dagger from his boot sheath,