Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [54]
In their chamber, Kellen watched thoughtfully while Morhion studied his leather-bound spellbook. As Morhion had explained, once a mage used a spell, the memory of it was wiped clean from his or her mind and had to be learned anew. Endless study was one of the many prices of magic. Kellen wondered when he would be allowed to learn spells, but he knew better than to ask. When the time was right, Morhion would let him know.
The door opened and Mari came in. Morhion looked up from his book, and for a moment a smile flickered across his usually impassive face.
"Faladar remembers Caledan," Mari said, her brown eyes glowing. She sat down and recounted her conversation with the innkeeper. Faladar had been sweeping the front step of his inn when a striking man with dark hair and a blue cloak passed by on a white mare, heading for the bridge across the River Reaching.
Morhion closed his spellbook. "So Caledan is still following the road. How long ago did Faladar see him?"
"Four days ago. We've gained a day on him."
Morhion nodded thoughtfully. "The Shadowstar draws him onward, but he is not certain where he's being led. I imagine he must pause often, trying to determine in which direction the call is strongest. If we ride hard, we may catch up to him in a few more days."
"I hope you're right," Mari said earnestly. "We can't let him get the Shadowstar before us."
Kellen was just climbing into bed when Jewel and Cormik returned after paying a visit to the local thieves' guild. The complicated etiquette of the underworld required that local thieves welcome their traveling brethren for a single night. After that, wandering thieves were fair game. Unfortunately, the two had not learned anything specific about Stiletto.
"However, I think we may be getting warm," Jewel said, her dusky violet eyes sparkling. "Cormik and I got the impression that the thieves in Hill's Edge started feeling Stiletto's bite several months before we did in Iriaebor That may mean they're closer to his base of operations."
"That's something," Mari said, then explained what she had learned from Faladar. Feeling optimistic, they went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be another long day. Kellen woke in the middle of the night, with the same strange feeling as he had on the day when he saw the ghost of Talek Talembar. Something was going to happen.
Something important. He sat up in bed. Cool moon-light spilled through the chamber's round glass window. The mark of magic on his left hand throbbed fiercely.
Kellen rose quietly from his bed. The others were sound asleep. He could move very quietly when he wished, and Cormik's steady snoring helped mask any noise. He slipped out the chamber door and moved down the corridor. As he went, he hummed a soft melody under his breath. The shadows to either side of him swirled, gathering around his slight form in a soft cloak of darkness.
He smiled in satisfaction. To passing glances, he would be all but invisible.
Kellen crept down the stairwell, halting when he heard whispered voices below. The first voice he recognized as belonging to Faladar, the innkeeper. The second was unfamiliar, a grating hiss that jarred Kellen's nerves. Cautiously, he peered between two slats in the stairway railing, into the common room below.
Faladar was arguing with someone. "I'm sure I wouldn't know any friend of yours," the innkeeper said indignantly.
"Ah, but you might have seen him," the other countered in his sibilant voice. He was swathed entirely in a heavy black robe, his face lost in the shadows of a deep cowl. "I am certain you would remember, for he is a memorable individual-a tall man with green eyes. He wears a blue cloak and plays the pipes. Or perhaps you've seen his companions-a woman with dark red hair, a handsome mage, and a young