Downshadow

SIXTEEN

Wheeling around for balance, Kalen managed to break the kiss and breathe.

Fayne seemed undaunted. "Shadow! It's been so long!" She hugged him tightly and squealed.

He blinked over her shoulder ro the table, where Cellica was staring at him in shock. Myrin looked at him, then the newcomer, then down at her stew-she seemed to shrink on her stool. Cellica looked halfway between angry and wonderstruck.

"Oh, Shadow, we'll have such a glorious time at the revel," she said, emphasizing her words breathlessly. "I can't believe you have an invitation-I can't wait to wear my dress! Oh!"

Kalen could hardly breathe, she held him so hard.

"Kalen," Cellica asked slowly, "Kalen, who is this? What revel?"

"I-urph," Kalen said as the woman kissed him again, cutting off any words. This kiss was harder than the first, more insistent, and he tasted her tongue in his mouth.

A little hand tugged the hem of the half-elf s vest. "Pardon, lass," Cellica asked, hands on her hips. "Who… who are you?"

"I'm Fayne," the half-elf said, lacing her fingers through Kalen's. "A… friendof Shadow, here-I mean, Sir Kalen Dren." She winked conspiratorially.

Kalen could only stare when Cellica looked at him. "I don't know her," he said.

"She knows you" the halfling quipped. Then, eyes widening: "She knows? About-"

"Of course I know," Fayne said with a laugh. Then she looked between them and put her hand over her mouth in mock fear. "What, is it a secret?"

Cellica's face turned bright red, and Kalen shivered. "It's not how it looks-"

Kalen saw Fayne glance at Myrin, and she hesitated half a breath. Then she let loose a squeal. "Who's this, Kalen? She's adorable!"

Myrin's eyes widened as Fayne rushed to her and hugged her around the neck, then proceeded to fuss over her like a child with a kitten. Myrin stared at Kalen, stunned.

A tiny blue rune appeared on Myrin's cheek, Kalen saw, where Fayne had touched. But before he could comment, a halfling finger poked him insistently and he looked down.

"What's going on?" Cellica looked furious. "Kalen, who is this woman?"

"I don't-" Kalen's head hurt even worse than when he had risen. "I can explain."

"Oh." Cellica climbed up on her stool and crossed her arms. "This should be grand."

Myrin looked positively mouselike at the table under Fayne's attentions.

"Better make it fast," Fayne noted, drawing out the word. "Someone else is coming up." Kalen's heart skipped. "Who?"

"A woman," Fayne said. "Very pretty-gorgeous, even. Long dark hair, deep blue eyes. Armed and armored. Five gauntlets on her…" Fayne made a gesture across her collarbone and giggled. "Why-" She smiled. "Do you know her?"

"Tymora guard us," Cellica said. "That's Rayse."

"Who's Rayse?" Fayne looked at Kalen jealously. "Another lass friend?"

"His superior, Araezra Hondyl!" Cellica said. "You were supposed to report this morn, Sir Snores-a-bed!" Cellica stared, wide-eyed, at Kalen. "What do we-?"

Kalen was in motion, crossing to the table.

Fayne purred at him. "You're quite the man, to have so many-hey!"

Kalen seized her by the arm and hauled her toward a closet, in which hung their spare clothes. He pushed her in, despite muffled protests, and stepped in himself.

"Kalen!" Cellica hissed. "What am I supposed to tell her?"

Kalen shrugged-he couldn't think, except that he knew he couldn't let Araezra catch them.

He shut the door behind them.

Myrin took very close care to stare at her stew the whole time.

She didn't know what was going on-where she was, who these people were, or anything-but just because she remembered nothing didn't mean she was an idiot. She'd seen that red-haired girl-Fayne- and the way she touched Kalen.

Of course he's got a lass friend, you fool, she thought. What did you expect?

She fancied she could still feel Fayne's fingers on her cheeks-the way the half-elf had prodded at her, grinning all the while. The touch lingered and Myrin felt oddly full, though it was not just from all the stew she had eaten. She felt full in spirit.

Maybe it was just Kalen looking at you, she thought. You're such a girl!

Cellica looked at her, and her mouth drooped in a sympathetic frown. She threw up her hands. "He's not always so," she said. "Just.. hold a moment."

Myrin opened her mouth to speak, but she felt a gentle pressure in her ears-a voice rhat itched at her mind, telling her to remain in her seat. Magic. She stayed sitting, wondering.

Cellica got up and started toward the door, which Fayne had left open. In the corridor, Myrin saw with a stabbing curdle in her stomach, stood a very lovely and very angry lady. She had sleek, glossy black hair and liquid eyes bound in a face like that of a wrathful nymph. The woman wore a uniform, but Myrin did not know what sort. Little about this world seemed familiar to her thus far.

"Rayse!" Cellica said. "What a surprise! Won't you come"-the dark-haired woman swept into the chamber past the halfling-"in?"

"Well-" Araezra pulled up short and stared. "Well met?"

After an awkward breath, Myrin realized she was talking to her. "Oh… well met."

Araezra looked confused. "I'm sorry-have we met? I don't know you."

"Uh-I'm… I'm Myrin." Her fingers curled and her heart thudded. Why did they all have to be so perfect''. "I'm… uh…"

Her brow furrowing, Araezra looked to Cellica.

"You probably want Kalen," the halfling said. "He's… ah-"

"It's very important," Araezra said. "He was supposed to report for duty this morn, and I haven't seen him." She glared toward Myrin, whose cheeks felt like they might burst into flame. She picked at her blue hair and wished it weren'r so straggly.

Myrin wondered if Kalen wasn't some kind of nobleman, or rich merchant, or perhaps the lord of a harem, to have this many lasses flocking to his door. She wasn't cerrain where she'd heard that word "harem" before-it was floating somewhere in the back of her mind. Elusive, like a shard of a dream that danced just on the edge of her awareness.

Like her mother's face. Like all her memories.

"I'll tell him when I see him," Cellica said. "He's… he might be with Commander Jarthay. They were bound for the Siren yestereve. Perhaps they're still there?"

Araezra glanced at Myrin, who tried to shrink smaller. She looked back at Cellica. "You didn't…" she said awkwardly. "You didn't happen to read the Minstrel this morn?"

Cellica folded her hands behind her back. "No, absolutely not."

"Cellica."

"Well, yes-" The halfling winced. She waved her hands. "But it's horribly unfair! You aren't like that at all. That's just bloody Satin Rutshear."

Araezra smiled and sighed. "My thanks. I–I just have to find Kalen. We need to talk."

Cellica nodded. "I'll tell him when I see him."

The halfling looked at Myrin as though expecting her to say aught, but Myrin had no idea what to say. She couldn't stop staring at Araezra, who was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen-that she could remember, anyway.

Araezra didn't leave. She bit her prerty lip, and Myrin saw her eyes were damp.

Cellica shrugged. "Berter have a seat, dear. Would you like cider?"

The armored woman nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Kalen stood inside the closet, hands pressed flat against the sides.

Crushed against the inside wall, every inch of her body just a hair's breadth from his bare chest and loose hose, Fayne blinked at him with her gray eyes. She was about the width of a hand shorter, and he could feel her brearh against his bare chest. His lips were level with the bridge of her nose, arid he had the unsettling urge to plant a kiss on her forehead. Something about her made him want to kiss her.

She wore a wry little grin.

"Do not," he said.

Fayne smiled and edged a little closer to him, pressing her breasts to his chest and her mouth near his ear. "I wouldn't dream of it." Her tone wasn't girlish at all, but sharp. He felt, uncomfortably, as though all of this was according ro her plan.

Kalen bit his lip. "Be still."

"You think your valabrar will hear?" That word confirmed his suspicions-she'd tricked him and knew full well what Araezra was doing there. All of this was her scheme, including hiding with him. "Oh, I promise-no one will hear anything we do in here."

A little tingle ran through Kalen. "Why would you fear Araezra finding you here?"

"I've made enough women jealous to know the look."

"Is this a trick?" Kalen asked. "Who are you?"

"Does that really matter?"

"How do you know…" He bit his lip. "How do you know who I am?"

"Again, is it meant to be a secret?" Fayne stretched just the tiniest bit, rippling across Kalen's body. Whoever she was, Kalen thought, she knew how to move.

"How did you find me?"

She grinned. "Did you think yourself hidden?"

"Do you answer every question with a question?"

"Don't you?"

Kalen's voice almost broke. "Damn it, lass, I-" "Hold a moment."

Fayne slid down his chest and belly, startling him. If Kalen hadn't been concentrating on staying quiet, he would have gasped and fallen backward our of the closet.

He heard the rustle of cloth and felt Fayne's head brush his thigh.

"What the Hells?" he snapped. "Pardon… almost… ah."

She stretched back up, slowly and languidly, and presented to him a ring of silver, etched with an eye sigil. "Dropped this. So clumsy." "That's mine," Kalen said.

"Was," she corrected. "Or were you going to take it back?" She pressed her hip against his. "I would love to see you try."

Kalen tried to ignore the threat-and implicit offer. "What could be staying them?"

"Lass talk, I imagine." Fayne shrugged, which made him tingle. "It lets us be alone."

Kalen turned his full attention on her. "Who are you?"

"I told you," she said. "Fayne is my name."

"No, it isn't."

She put her hands on her hips. "And why not?" "Feign? You think me a simpleton?"

"Ha!" she said. "Very well. My true name," she said grandly, "is Feit."

"Really? Counter-^/r?"

"Damn!" She giggled, a touch of her assumed girlishness coming back.

"Enough." Kalen glared at her. "Unveil yourself, girl, or gods help me, I will burst out of this closet and get us both caught."

Fayne's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare" she said.

"I have only embarrassment in front of my superior to fear," Kalen said. "You, on the other hand-I believe you are a thief and a scoundrel and have considerably more to lose."

"Well, then." Fayne dared him with her eyes.

Kalen started to move.

"Wait," she said, throwing her arms around him and holding him back. "Mercy. Gods! Don't get so excited." She held up the ring in the flat of her palm, near her face.

Kalen took it, and while he was distracted, she kissed him again.

He pulled away, thumping his head on the ceiling. Thankfully, Fayne did not follow, just stood there smiling wryly at him.

"Very well, my captor-what would you have of me?" She winked. 'Ware you don't ask too much-this is naught but our second meeting. I usually wait until the third, at least."

Kalen ignored her and perked his ears-Araezra was still talking, but her voice sounded no nearer than before.

"You call yourself Fayne-very well," he said. "Why are you here? What is your game?"

"My game, dearest Vigilant Dren," Fayne said, "is a mysrery by its nature. The hints are in the playing." Still holding him, she pressed her cheek against his chest and purred. "You must be an active man. Not only does it look passing well, but it feels like a rock."

"Uh…" The numbness in his body wouldn't let him sense her hands.

"Hard as stone." She nuzzled his chest, and he felt a tingle. "I like the scars, as well."

Your chest, idiot, Kalen thought. Keep the thinking in your head!

"Answer my other questions," he said. "You are here for some purpose. Is it coin you want? I have little enough, but it's yours."

"Nothing of the sort!" Fayne looked insulted. "I'm in no such business except"-she shook her hair back grandly-"the business of misery and scandal." Her voice was sweet.

"You must be a writer," he murmured.

"Pique!" Fayne smiled brilliantly. "I don't often tell folk this, but I am, in fact, a writer for a little rag you might know: the Mocking Minstrel."

Kalen narrowed his eyes. "Satin Rutshear," he murmured.

"What a guess!" Fayne narrowed her eyes and licked her lips. "Can you read my mind?"

"No," Kalen said. "She's just the only one wicked enough."

"What charm," Fayne purred. "I like you more and more every breath, Shadowbane."

Kalen gritted his teeth behind a hard smile. What was taking Araezra so long? Why didn't she leave? Fayne was looking at him so directly, so boldly with those deep gray eyes… he wondered how long he had before his words-or his body-betrayed him.

"I was hoping ro persuade you," Fayne said, "to take me to the revel on the morrow."

Kalen frowned. "Revel?"

"So that's…" Araezra said. She'd stopped crying halfway through her story, in no small part due to the aid of a steaming mug of cider from the fire. "That's what happened. It was an accident. Tal… Talanna jumped too far and couldn't make it."

"Mmm," Cellica said, nodding.

Myrin, taking the cue, nodded as well, though she had no idea what they were talking about. Shadowbane, though-that was Kalen. She kept her mouth shut.

"I can't understand it," Araezra said. "This Shadowbane seemed-I don't know. He didn't want to be caught, but he helped me out of the pit when he could have run. And when Tal was hurt, he helped her. Do those sound like the acts of a criminal to you?"

Cellica shrugged. "Not at all."

"Then why the mask?" Araezra asked.

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Cellica said. "It's all very romantic, isn't it? Like something you'd find in a chapbook. But I'm sure"- Myrin noted her glance at the closet-"I'm sure that whoever rhis Shadowbane is, he feels just as badly about Talanna."

Araezra shrugged.

"Talanna…" Cellica sipped her cider and asked, cautiously, "She'll be well, aye?"

Araezra nodded. She seemed to catch Myrin looking at her, and her deep blue eyes flicked to meet her gaze. Myrin hid behind her big cider mug as best she could.

"And you-Myrin, aye? What say you?"

"It… it all sounds so exciting," she said. "I can't imagine. Um." Myrin took a mouthful of cider, burned her tongue, and choked.

Araezra shifted uncomfortably. "And how do you know Kalen, Myrin?"

"She doesn't," Cellica said. "She's a… friend, from Westgate. My friend. Not his."

Araezra pursed her lips. "But you've met Kalen, aye?"

"Oh, aye!" Myrin said, and immediarely wished she'd restrained herself.

"And what do you think of him?" Araezra asked, looking at Myrin closely.

"He's so-" Myrin looked at Cellica, who was frantically shaking her head. "Kuh-kind," she said. She looked down at the spoon she was fiddling with nervously. "So very kind. Yes."

"Kind?" Araezra frowned at Cellica, who grinned helplessly. "Perhaps you know a different Kalen than I do."

Myrin's mouth moved but she couldn't find words.

"Look-gods above, I'm sure I don't want to know," Araezra said. "Vigilant Dren's life is his own, and he clearly intends to keep it that way." She stood, leaned over ro kiss Cellica on the cheek, and nodded to Myrin. "Coins bright." She crossed to the rack by the window where she'd left her grearcoat.

Myrin leaned toward Cellica. "What does that mean?" she asked. "Coins bright?"

"Traditional Waterdhavian saying. 'May fortune smile,' or the sort."

"Oh." Myrin cradled her mug. "She's so sweet." The halfling whispered back. "I believe she thinks you're a doxy or some such."

"A what?"

The halfling blushed and shook her head. "Never you mind." "Cellica," said Araezra from near the window. "Are these blood stains?"

Myrin and the halfling both looked toward Araezra, where she knelt investigating a pair of red marks on the sill and floor.

"Oh, just me," Cellica said. "I mean-I made a pie and set it there to cool, and it spilled a bit. You know how treacherous balancing at the window can be. You know."

Again, Myrin felt that tickle in her ears that indicated magic was afoot. Cellica's voice had an enchantment of some sort about it, that took hold when she was either angry or concentrating on making her words strike. It was working on Araezra, who shrugged.

"Well, then," she said. "Coins brighr. Tell Kalen I came to call." She headed out the door.

Cellica breathed a great sigh of relief. After a moment, she crossed to the closet, grasped the latch, and flicked it open.

Kalen tumbled out, the red-haired half-elf on top of him. The halfling put her hands on her hips and looked down ar them both.

One breath, Kalen was standing in the closet, practically hugging Fayne, and the next he was on the floor, straddled by Fayne. He blinked up at Cellica, whose face was stormy, and over at Myrin, who looked away.

"Is she gone?" Fayne asked. "Excellent!" She bounded up and straightened her skirt. "Well, I should be off. I'll see you at highsun before the revel on the morrow? Outstanding."

"Revel?" asked Cellica. "Tomorrow?"

"Ah." Kalen got to his feet, mumbling. "That scroll I gave you. The one I told you to-"

"You mean…" The halfling plucked a small, crumpled scroll out of a pocket and held it up in both hands. "You don't mean our revel?"

"Our revel?" Fayne asked, mouth wide. She glared at Kalen. "Please?" Cellica turned her eyes up at Kalen. "The yearly costume revel at the Temple of Beauty on Greengrass-I've been saving coin for just such a windfall. Please-please?"

"Ah-" Kalen said. He looked at Myrin, who shrugged.

Fayne put her hands on her hips. "Sweet wee one," she said. "But Kalen's my escort."

"Is that so?" the halfling said. Though she reached only to Fayne's belly, she stood just as strong, arms crossed over her breast. "And don't you ever call me 'wee.' "

Fayne smirked and crossed her arms. "Well, if you weren't such a little thing-"

Kalen was suddenly immersed in the midst of a firestorm that flowed from the women's lips. Their argument was just as loud, just as fast, and just as deadly as any duel he had ever survived-and many he'd run from. The one and only time he tried to step in, they upbraided him so sharply and fiercely that he reeled as though struck.

The situation was a mess. He'd been planning to give the invitation to Fayne just to get rid of her, but Cellica wanted to go as well. If he gave it away, he would never hear the end of it, and if he didn't please Fayne, then gods only knew what would happen.

"Choose one of us," Cellica said, and Kalen felt compelled by that voice of hers. "Choose one of us ladies, right here, right now."

"Aye." Fayne tossed her hair over her shoulders. "Thar choice should be obvious."

"Only if he dreams of maids half elf, half giant," added Cellica.

Fayne smirked. "Unless he prefers lighrer fare-girl-children, perhaps?"

Cellica's face went brighr red.

The ladies went back to bickering sharply, throwing turns of phrase that would have made the best broadsheet satirists applaud.

Kalen turned his eyes on Myrin at the table, who blushed down at her hands in her lap. She was a buoy of genrle calm in a sea of dueling, querulous words. She saw Kalen looking at her and blinked. Then she smiled gently-demurely-and went back to looking embarrassed.

Finally, head spinning and aching, Kalen closed his eyes and pointed. "I'll go with her."

Cellica and Fayne looked at him, then at his finger.

"You're taking her?" Fayne asked, eyes dangerous. "The blue-haired waif?"

Kalen pointed at Myrin. The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Cellica grinned widely.

"How sweet! Myrin could use a gown-gods know she can't go on wearing Kalen's things all her days." She sneered at Fayne. "I'm sure we can dress her better than this ogre."

Ignoring that, Fayne rounded on Kalen. "Why is she wearing your clothes?"

"Better than, you wearing them," said Cellica. "Though they might fit you, she-whale."

Fayne blushed so fiercely that her face matched her hair. "Whar?" She investigated her backside. "There's not a drop of blubber there. Unlike certain halflings-"

As they fell to bickering again, Kalen looked at Myrin. Her mouth drooped in a lonely frown and her eyes were cast toward her hands, which were bunched into fists on the table. Kalen watched as she clenched her fists harder and harder.

A splotch of blue appeared on her wrist, then branched into lines of tiny runes-like a sprouting vine of ivy-that spread up her arm.

"Just because I'm not the perfect height for-cub!" Fayne's words ended in a cough.

Grasping her throat, Fayne burbled a cry and slumped, hands clutching her head. She would have fallen, but Kalen caught her. Her hands tightened into claws on Kalen's bare chest.

"What's happening?" Cellica cried, terrified.

Fayne was looking around wildly, a look of sheer rage on her face. She murmured words in a language Kalen did not know and clutched at her forehead as though to smother a fire inside.

Kalen looked to Myrin, who sat at the table staring vacantly at the reeling Fayne. Her skin had sprouted an entire lattice of blue runes growing across her shoulder and down her arm. Her eyes glowed like stars.

Flames leaked from Fayne's hand-dark magic. Her eyes scanned the room as though searching for a foe. Kalen realized she was staring righr at Myrin but didn't seem able to see her.

Yet.

"Stop!" Kalen snapped.

Myrin jumped, fell out of her chair, and scrambled against the wall. "Uh?"

Fayne moaned and slumped against Kalen, panting. The agony slipped away from her face, but her anger burned all the brighter. She glared, still seemingly unable to see Myrin.

The hate in her eyes shivered Kalen to his core.

Cellica's eyes darted back and forth between Kalen and Myrin. She seemed not to notice Myrin's eyes or runes-the girl's eyes had been locked on the half-elf. "What was that?"

"Damn," Fayne murmured, touching her head as rhough it were tender. "Damn me for good and all." She shook her head and looked to the table, where she finally was able to see Myrin. Her lips curled like those of an angry canine, and Kalen half expected to see fangs. But no, her teeth were quite normal.

"Wait," Kalen whispered to Fayne.

She looked up at him, gray eyes slowly draining of rage-and replaced by wariness. "Aye?"

Kalen fell into communion with his threefold god, fingers curling around his gauntlet-etched ring. His hands glowed, attracting Myrin's and Cellica's awed gazes. Healing power flowed inro Fayne, easing her breathing.

She closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against his hand. "Oh, Shadow," she said.

"Kalen," he corrected.

"Hrmm." Fayne moved away-a little wobbly, but that might have been feigned. "If you're taking blue-hair girl, then I'll just have to wait until next time, won't I?"

She winked at Kalen in a way that assured him there would indeed be a next time.

"You don't-you don't have to," Cellica said. "Let me look at you. I've a healer's-"

"No need!" Fayne gave Cellica a winning smile and bent to kiss her on the forehead. "I'll be just fine." She tossed a glare at Myrin. "Just fine."

The half-elf left.

Kalen glanced at Cellica and Myrin. The halfling stood, pale faced, near the door, staring after Fayne. At the table, Myrin looked terrified. Blue runes adorned the left side of her face.

Kalen sighed. "I'll see her home," he said. "Wherever home is."

He grabbed his spare uniform, the black coat of leather and plate with its two gauntlets of rank. Heedless of whether they watched, he pulled off his hose and dressed.

With an eep! Myrin blushed and looked away.

Cellica looked hard at Kalen. "Do you know where?" she asked.

Kalen shrugged.

"So you really don't know her, eh?" the halfling said brightly. Kalen laced up his breeches and shrugged on the harness straps. "You

… you're still taking Myrin to the revel on the morrow?" Kalen shrugged. It hardly seemed relevant. "Well, then," Cellica said. She smiled.

Myrin pressed her back against the wall and slid down, trembling and hot in the face. What had she done?

She stared at her hands and her heart leaped. Little blue marks showed vividly against her left palm. She rubbed at them, as one might dirt smudges, but they didn't come off. She pulled up the sleeve of the old tunic, breathing hard. She found more marks traveling up her arm. She scratched hard at her skin, trying desperately to get rid of them, but she drew blood.

She touched her cheek, which tingled. In the small mirror across the room, she saw a vine of blue runes running along her throat and up her face. She sat, rigid in horror, and tried vainly to stay calm. The marks were moving-shrinking.

Soon, they faded entirely, and she could breathe again.

Fayne had gone, she realized, and Kalen-fully dressed and about to follow-was sraring at her. His icy eyes glittered balefully. When Myrin opened her mouth, nothing came out. Wordlessly, Kalen srrode into the corridor and banged the door shut.

Myrin looked down at her hands. Tears welled in her eyes. "Don't mind him." Cellica appeared at her side, smiling. "He's just a glowering bastard." "Really?" Myrin sniffed.

"Yes," she said. "I know what will make you feel better." Her eyes twinkled. "Dresses!"