Downshadow

SEVEN

Araezra hated these sorts of assignments, down in the dark and dank. But the Watch had been doing less and less duty in the sewers and Undermountain, leaving it to the more highly trained-and paidGuard. She was serving the city, in a way, though she really wished nobles wouldn't get these crazy ideas and go vanishing down into the underworld alone where the Guard had to go fish them out.

She and Talanna trudged along the musty corridors of Downshadow, along wirh two other guardsmen, Turnstone and Treth. Best that Kalen hadn't come-he'd have been out of his element, and Araezra worried about him in these situations. It wasn't his spirit or his heart, but his body-his illness, after all, didn't permit much in the way of peril.

Not that Turnstone or Treth made her feel much better in a desperate battle. Gordil Turnstone was a wise and stolid guardsman, but well past his prime. His hair and great mustache were white from decades on the streets. Bleys Treth, on the other hand, was a skilled-if overeager and quick to draw-swordsman, but he'd seen well over forry winters. He'd been a hired champion in his youth, called "the Striking Snake" for his speed, and still retained some of his youthful charm and dash, but all the smiles in Faerun didn't make up for age.

Araezra and Talanna were the youngest and most vigorous of the four. Talanna wore her light "chasing" armor, styled for running and leaping. Her long sunset hair was unbound, in contradiction of Waterdeep fashion, for two reasons, both to do with Lord Neverember. For a first, he liked to point her out to dignitaries by her red-burning curls. Second, he liked to see it tumble when they flirted, which they did shamelessly.

Araezra was glad to have the shieldlar at her side. She valued

Talanna's company and her martial skills-in spite of her oft-rambling tongue. As at that moment, for insrance.

"Honestly, Rayse, you should be more careful who you wink those lovely black eyes at," Talanna said. "The men of Waterdeep can take only so much, you know."

Araezra groaned. Talanna always thought her choices could be better. Not that Talanna ever advised prudishness in romance-only selectivity.

"I welcome your words, but I shall keep my own counsel as regards affairs of my hearr," she said.

"Heart? Nay-I was hardly speaking of such lofty affairs. I was aiming a bit lower."

Talanna made a sly and scandalous sort of gesture, and Araezra shot her gaze to Treth and Turnstone. The men seemed, conveniently, not to be looking.

"For true, though," Talanna whispered, "you ought to ward yourself. I have seen how you look at Kalen, and I've told you time and again…"

" 'Romancing anyone in the Guard, Watch, Magistry, or Palace is a grave mistake as well as improper,'" Araezra quoted from the Talanna Taenfeather rulebook. She'd learned well the value of dampening jealousies and avoiding entanglements among the city's elite. "I'm well-you needn't worry, Shieldlarr

Talanna pinched up her face. "Ooh, citing rank, are we? I see someone's a bit touched."

Araezra ignored that. It wasn't particularly proper, this repartee on duty, but their friendship ran too deep. It was like sisterhood.

"He's just a man, Rayse," Talanna observed.

"Who?" Araezra's blush belied her feigned ignorance.

"Don't try to deny it," Talanna said. "You're still sweet on him."

"Look, it's over, aye?" Araezra said. "Jusr let it pass."

"Honestly, though-is it him? Poor bedroom play, I think."

"No," Araezra said. Then, blushing more, she added, "I mean, no, I wouldn't know, because we never-"

"Right, right," Talanna said. "And that's why you get so flustered whenever I ask."

She signaled Treth and Turnstone to halt and caught Araezra's arm. She leaned in closer.

"Just tell me one thing, aye? Is it yea-" She held up her hands, about the length of a dagger apart-"or yea?" She brought her hands closer together.

"That's… that's none of our business," said Araezra. "Gods curse you!"

"Ooh," Talanna murmured. She brought her hands even closer. "Aye?"

"I am not having this conversation," Araezra whispered. She looked back, where Treth and Turnstone were watching them closely. "Belt up, men!"

Turnstone coughed and looked down, as though interested in his boots. Treth snickered.

Talanna poked her. "So I'll just have to seduce him myself if I want to find out, aye?"

Araezra blushed fiercer than before. "I'll have you flogged in the public square for this."

"Better not have Jarthay do it." Talanna grinned. "He'd enjoy it a bit too much."

"I mean it," Araezra warned.

"Ha! No, you don't." Talanna laughed.

Araezra scowled. "No, I suppose I don't."

Talanna squeezed Araezra's hand reassuringly. "Love is for fools, sweetling!"

"Good thing I'm not a fool." She waved to the men. "Swords forward!"

As they crept through the tunnel, Araezra wondered if Talanna's words didn't hold a ring of truth.

She remembered very clearly when first she had met Kalen Dren, on a raid in Uktar last year, back when he'd been a Watchman on the streets of Dock Ward. In her six years in the Guard, since she had joined at fifteen, never had she seen a man so determined and deadly-at least, not on her side of a raid. In his full helm, he'd waded into combat unhindered and unafraid, his eyes cutting through as many men as his sword. During the battle, he had saved her life from a stray arrow by raking it in his own chest.

She hadn't seen his face before the healers had taken him away, but his eyes haunted her dreams for nights after. She learned that Kalen had survived his wounds and was resting at the barracks, healing naturally. When she'd protested, his superiors had explained that letting him heal without magic was a rare reward for valor in the raid; he seemed to loathe anything but emergency magic, and only grudgingly accepted the Watch healers. He preferred to live with his scars, it was said, as a mark of pride.

She visited his bedside and was surprised at his youth: he was hardly older than herself. She'd talked with him for the day and into the night, long after aides had told her ro let him rest. Kalen had merely waved them away, so they could speak in privare.

In Kalen, Araezra had found someone like herself-someone who burned with the desire to fix the ills of Waterdeep. He wanted nothing more than to find and punish the guilty. He told her of a vow he had made to himself as a child-never to beg. All the while, his eyes had stared through her to the frustrated soul beneath-weighing what they found there, like something more than human. His eyes had made her shiver, but not with fear.

Was her desire really so surprising?

She'd been due for promotion to valabrar-the youngest ever to hold the rank-and she insisted Kalen come with her as her aide. For a time, she thought they could be much more, but he had refused her every attempt in that regard. When finally she confronted him, he told her of his illness, and Araezra's heart broke. She would have stayed with him thereafter, but his eyes were so sad-so frustrated-that she had let their short-lived romance fade.

She remembered his vow and knew that for her to beg would shame him.

As his physical prowess diminished, she'd kept him in service as her aide, thinking that he would want the post but would never ask. She'd thought it would do him honor, but now she wasn't sure. As a caged lion might relax but still see the bars, so might a wild beast waste away at the center of his pride, knowing that he has outlived his days of ferocity.

Nor was she sure that her motivations had been entirely selfless in awarding that assignment.

She had confessed to herself that she still desired him-confessed it every day. It was not love, exactly, but she wanted him to crave her, too-to show her anything but cold distance.

"I see that gleam in your eye," Talanna said. "Honestly-'twas but a simple question…"

"This isn't the time," Araezra snapped. "You're sure the boy pointed in this-"

Then she almost jumped out of her mail breeches when Bleys Treth cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Lady Lorien!"

"Shush!" snapped Talanna. "She'll just hide from you."

"Aye, Shieldlar," Treth said sourly.

"Shush, both of you," Turnstone said. "You'll only call monsters or thieves."

Giving a duelist's sneer, Bleys spread his hands. "Let them come-I've my steel." He tapped the heel of his hand smartly on his sword hilt.

"Shush, all of you," Araezra growled. "Did you see yon radiance?"

A bright white light flashed in the chamber at the north end of the tunnel. They heard the clash of steel-a duel, she thought. She put her hand on her sword hilt and nodded. The others did likewise, and Talanna plucked a pair of throwing daggers from her belt.

Araezra waved, and they picked up their steps. She heard two voices, one a familiar soft soprano, the other a rolling bass.

Araezra and Talanna stepped into the chamber. A man in black leathers and a tattered gray cloak stood before them. His face was anonymous, hidden behind a full steel helm. In his arms was the very noblewoman they sought, the priestess Lorien Dawnbringer.

Araezra gasped.

"Away from her, knave!" shouted Talanna, hefting her daggers to throw.

"Hold!" Araezra said, half a heartbeat too late. The man shoved Lorien down and dived to the side. One of Talanna's blades whistled harmlessly past where the priestess had been, and the other sank into his left bicep. Unhindered and unarmed, he ran toward them.

"Hold!" she shouted. "Down arms-you too, Talanna!"

No one listened. Bleys Treth snapped his blade out and lunged with the speed that had once earned him his moniker, but his target parried with an empty black scabbard. Treth twisted this out of his hands with an expert circle and cut back at his hip, but the man leaped like a noble's stallion over the last fence before the finish.

Araezra watched, gaping, as he soared over their heads and darted down the south tunnel.

"I've got him!" Talanna ran, drawing another blade as she went.

Araezra and Turnstone ran to Lorien. Turnstone searched warily for another foe, while Araezra knelt at the priestess's side.

"Are you well, my lady?" Araezra asked without ceremony. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," the priestess said. "I came here to spread Sune's healing, and yon knight protected me." Her cheeks were flushed. "Shadowbane… he means us no ill."

Shadowbane. Araezra shivered.

She considered whether the priestess had been deceived. They might have just saved her from a charming-but very dangerous- attacker. Or perhaps he truly had aided her.

Regardless, he had run, and in her experience, innocent men didn't run.

"Come with us," Araezra said. "We will deliver you safely to the city above."

The guards nodded and Araezra looked to the tunnel, considering what to do next.

"Wait!" Lorien pointed to the north wall. "His sword."

There lay a shimmering blade of silvery steel, a hand and a half longer than a typical adventurer's sword. Araezra's eyes widened and her hand drifted toward it unbidden.

Then she heard Talanna's triumphanr cry from down the tunnels and remembered herself. "Confiscate that," she ordered, and Turnstone moved to claim the sword.

Araezra looked between the two guards, frowning.

"Well?" she asked, pointing. "Which of you jacks will go after them?"

Treth ran his hand through his hair. "A snake strikes at short distances, not long ones," he said. "At my age, I'm like to be no faster than Gordil, here. In fact-"

Turnstone, with his grim face and white mustache, shrugged.

Araezra sighed. "Well, well." She pulled at the clasps of her breastplate, thrusring it open to the belly. Turnstone's eyes almost popped and Treth just smiled. "Turn, jacks."

They did-though she could swear Treth was still watching.

Araezra shrugged out of her coat-of-plate, revealing her sweat-plastered chemise. It was a thin, short affair that kept her cool under her uniform armor-to which the padding was attached-but it was hardly modest, particularly when sweaty. She rolled her eyes and positioned the straps of her harness where they offered the most cover-and the best support. Sometimes, Araezra wished she'd been born a boy.

"Well," she said, tying her hair back.

The guards turned. Turnstone had the decency to blush, while Treth snickered. Araezra threw her armor at the Snake's chest, blowing the air out of his lungs.

"Ward her well," Araezra said, nodding at Lorien. "Deliver her ro the temple, then meet at the barracks. Unless you happen across Talanna or me-in that case, aid."

She seized the silvery sword out of Turnstone's hands and looked to Treth. "Scabbard."

Treth handed her Shadowbane's scabbard.

Araezra sheathed the sword and stuck the scabbard through the straps on her back, securing it with her belt. She made sure that her hips could move freely. She wasn't sure why she needed Shadowbane's sword, but something compelled her to take it. Then, tapping her watchsword hilt smartly in an ironic salute, she sprinted down the corridor where Shadowbane and Talanna had gone.

Talanna would catch him, all right, unless he could outrun the fastest woman in Waterdeep. Araezra wasn't sure, though, what would transpire when she did catch him. Likely, she would need support, and quickly.

This was ridiculous-running through Downshadow so inde-cenrly. If this didn't end terribly, she would look into a new suit of armor: a light, balanced harness like the sort Talanna wore, crafted for speed and mobility.

For the moment-well, Araezra only hoped the chase wouldn't take her where any citizens might be.