Erik de Bie - Downshadow

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.