Erik de Bie: Downshadow

"Needs?" Kalen's bloodstained teeth glittered at her. The look of it intrigued her.

"Yes-your heart, body, mind, soul-everything." She flashed her long lashes and feigned a kiss. "Is that really so much to ask?"

"I might have given it," Kalen said. "Before you killed Cellica-I might have given it."

"And what of Myrin, eh?" Fayne asked.

She seemed to have struck him to the quick. Kalen looked down at the table silently.

"Ah, yes, the girl between us," Fayne said. "And how fares yon strumpet?"

Kalen slammed his fist on the table, drawing wary glances. "Don't insult her," he said low. "A creature like you couldn't possibly understand her." am

"I'm sure." Fayne didn't bother looking around. "She's not with you now?"

Kalen shook his head.

"You let her go," Fayne said, clasping her hands at her breast. "Oh, how romantic! You really are such an insufferably good man-and an arrogant boor, besides." She sneered.

Kalen did norhing but stare ar her.

"You just have to make decisions on behalf of those around you, without consulting them," Fayne said. "Rejecting that slut of a valabrar, for instance, so as not to hurt her. Deciding Myrin would be happier without you. Telling yourself it's to prorecr them, and nor yourself!"

"I do what I must," Kalen said.

"Gods defend us!" Fayne threw her hands up in the air. "The arrogance! The conceir!"

"I know Myrin," Kalen said. "And I do not deserve her."

Fayne couldn't contain her laughter. This was just too much.

"People never change," she said. "Once a rhief, ever a thief. Once a killer, ever a killer. Too much to expect you might stop hating yourself." She blew him a kiss. "But what if Myrin wanted you anyway?"

"I wouldn't let her."

"How perfect!" Fayne said. "Oh, Kalen, the gods endowed you in many ways, but wisdom of the heart was hardly one of them."

"Whoever she is," Kalen said, "whatever she is, whatever folk have done to her-Myrin deserved none of it." His eyes blazed. "She is better than me-better than all of us."

"Spoken like a man who knows nothing of women."

Kalen shrugged.

"Ah, Shadowbane, the arbiter of justice-but you're working without all the evidence, love," said Fayne. "You don't know what that girl is. If you did, and you had the slightest love for good and justice, you'd march right out of here and take her to the Watch-or the Tower." Fayne grinned. "Why not do that now? Or are you afraid they'd take her away from you?"

Fayne saw Kalen's hand clench, but the knight resrrained himself.

"But no-you don't need anyone else." Fayne winked. "You're always alone, aye?"

She could see Kalen trembling as he looked down at the table.

"You really do love her, aye?" asked Fayne.

"You know I can't," Kalen said angrily. "She hurts me too much, just by looking at me."

"You idiot." Fayne laughed. "What do you think love is?"

A timid barmaid stood at the edge of the room, and Fayne rolled her eyes and waved to her. Soon, tankards of ale came, and they raised them to each other, even toasted and clinked the tankatds together and smiled. By all appearances they were merely young companions, dressed in the garb of sellswords, sharing drink and conversation.

Through it all, the goblet of wine before Kalen went untouched. "What arc you thinking about, lover?" Fayne asked. "I am thinking about how this will end." There was no warmth in his eyes.

"Then you will not object to assuaging my own wonders," Fayne said.

He shrugged with his tankard.

"First question," Fayne said. "Why did you drink my wine rather than your own? Had you decided what manner of wench I am-one who would expect to be trusted?"

Kalen gestured to the full goblet. "I could drink this," he said. "Or shall we talk more?"

Fayne's smile didn't falter-she wouldn't give him a hint as to her scheme. It was far too delicious. "We should talk, and you should answer my question."

"I knew," Kalen said. "Because I know you, Fayne."

"I suppose you do at that-in a certain sense." She winked lewdly then composed herself. "Second question-you knew I was crooked. How?"

"Lady Dawnbringer," Kalen said.

"Ah." She nodded. "But that didn't let you save Cellica. So you must not have been certain. You didn't know Rath was mine?" "I suspected," Kalen said. "I saw the way you looked at Lady

Ilira-the triumph in your eyes. Was anything accidental about that night?"

"Well struck," Fayne said. "What I told you was true-the whore killed my mother, and nothing pleases me more than hurting her. I didn't pay Rath to kill Lorien, but I don't care that he did. The only part I lied about was whether I would have killed her myself." She smiled. "Yet still you let me share your bed, even after you knew I was bent. I don't suppose you really did love me? Just a touch?" She batted her eyes at him.

"No more than you did," he replied, his eyes never leaving hers.

Good, that was good. All his attention fixed upon her.

"Glad my true face didn't steal your virility," she confessed. "But I'm so terribly curious-make love to many of my kind, do you?"

"I like my lasses wicked." Kalen shrugged. "But I've never known one quite like you."

"Mmm. Good." Fayne laughed lightly. "Not wielding your paladin's sword, I see." She gestured to his empty belt. "You murdered Rath in cold blood?"

"And if I did?"

"Then I can see why Myrin has left you." She reached across the table for his wrist but he drew away. "Ah, Kalen! You and I know too much darkness for a soft thing like her."

"Yes," Kalen murmured. "I suppose we do."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you-and this is my last question- here to fight me, rather than claim me for your own?"

Kalen said nothing.

Fayne sighed. "Of course. Well-it would have been joyous, saer, but I can't say as I disagree. You and I were not meant for one another. Irreconcilable philosophical differences."

Kalen shrugged. "I suppose this is where I ask how you intend to kill me." He gestured to the wine goblets-hers empry, his full. "I suppose one of those was poisoned."

"Mayhap." Fayne looked him up and down. "You seem to be alive.",

"This likely would have been some game of yours," Kalen continued. "You'd suggest we both drink, and let me choose which wine to take for myself. You just had to decide which I would drink-and poison that cup." He gestured to them. "Apologies if I spoiled your plan."

"And I apologize for insulting you earlier," she said. "Mayhap the gods did endow you with some brain after all-just not enough. You've missed one little detail." When Kalen narrowed his eyes warily, she laughed. "I'll tell you for free-a free lesson in Waterdeep, aye?"

"What could you teach me, Fayne?"

"Every thief," she said, "knows that the first rule of thievery is misdirection."

When Kalen frowned, Fayne gestured to his chair. The paladin reached down tentatively, as though to scratch an itch, and felt one of the tiny, poison-coated needles that were stabbing into his legs, buttocks, and back-needles Fayne had placed there an hour gone.

The irony, she hoped, was not lost on him. Because of his sickness, he'd not have been able to feel them pierce his flesh when he sat down, and by then it was far too late.

"Farewell, lover," Fayne said. She gathered her feet off the table and stood. "I would have liked to share a tumble with you again, but

… we never would have come to pass." Then, dipping low to give him one last eyeful down her bodice, she claimed his wine goblet and drank. When she was done, she licked her lips. "You and I are too much alike, and yet not enough."

She started to go, but Kalen laid his bandaged right hand on her wrist. The hand was shattered-only partly healed-and had no strength to stay her, but she stopped anyway.