Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [9]
The ghost gazed at Kellen with eyes like emeralds, then stretched out his arms in a plaintive, urgent gesture. The spirit's voice blended eerily with the low moan of the wind.
"The old king hath fallen… and a new king doth rise to take his place…"
As the last sliver of the sun slipped below the far horizon, the ghost vanished, leaving Kellen to shiver alone in the gathering gloom of the garden.
Two
Mari Al'maren sat in the common room of the Dreaming Dragon, waiting. Through a window, she watched as the black night sky softened to slate blue, then pearl gray, and at last blazed into scarlet brilliance. She had been up all night. Finally she heard the sounds she had been waiting for outside the inn's door: the grating of a boot heel on stone, the rattling of an iron key in the lock, the creak of hinges the door swung open. A tall figure wrapped in a tattered midnight blue cloak stepped into the common room. Surprise registered in his faded green eyes. "You're up early" Caledan said cheerfully. "No," Mari countered crisply. I'm up late." It took a moment for the implication of her words to register on his angular visage His grin faded. "How about if I told you that I went out for a midnight constitutional and lost track of the time?"
Mari gazed at him steadily. "You can give it a try, but don't get your hopes up. I'd really hate for you to be disappointed."
Caledan winced. "I was afraid of that." He shrugged off his ragged cloak. Beneath, he wore the old travel-stained black leathers he preferred for night work.
Mari stood, taking a half dozen paces toward the stairs before turning to regard him. "All right, Caledan. Where have you been all night? You can tell me now, or if you'd rather, we can scream at each other first. But either way. you are going to tell me."
Caledan opted to cooperate directly. "I went to the Barbed Hook," he said. "It's a tavern down in the New City, on the waterfront."
"I've heard of the place," she said coolly, crossing her arms. "The clientele consists of brawling sailors, besotted dockhands, one-handed cutpurses, and a generous sprinkling of harlots. A little too high class for you, don't you think?"
Caledan grimaced. "I'll be generous and ignore that. Do you remember the spy we discovered in the High Tower?"
"A man dancing around trying to pull a dagger out of his back before he drops dead is a curiously memorable image."
He pretended not to hear the sarcasm in her voice. "I did a little investigating and found out that our spy had been seen down at the Barbed Hook, so I decided to scout things out. Guess what? I noticed a few of our friend's cohorts disappearing down a hidden passage into a back storeroom. One of them bore ritual scars on his cheekbones. There's no question about it. They were definitely Zhentarim."
Mari arched an eyebrow. She had a sinking feeling. "Were Zhentarim?"
"You can stop worrying," Caledan snapped in annoyance.
"I didn't harm a hair on their evil little heads. Not that I wouldn't have liked to. Whatever you may think, I'm not so impulsive I'd follow three Zhentarim into their hideout without someone to back me up." He shook his head in frustration. "But I still can't understand this overwhelming desire of yours to sit and have a pleasant chat with every member of the Black Network we turn up. That's exactly why I left-"
Caledan halted, swallowing