Erik de Bie - Downshadow

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."