Eric De Bie - Shadowbane

“You,” Kalen said.

“Me.” The elf dandy gave them a slight nod. “I suppose it’s time we had a talk.”

In her inner chamber at the temple, Eden sighed contentedly. She was pleased-and not merely because the other gangs were broken and hers was untouched.

It also wasn’t just that she’d saved the day, bringing hundreds of new followers into her church. After the “miracle” in the market square-easily accomplished with the ritual that bound the demon to her will-Tymora had become the first name on every Luskar’s lips. Eden of the Clearlight was the second.

Thirdly, it wasn’t just that she’d as good as crowned herself queen of Luskan. Should she wear a crown? Would that be ostentatious? She wondered.

Lastly, her contentment had little enough to do with the two men currently serving her pleasure-though that she did rather enjoy.

Nay, Eden was pleased because she’d watched her stupid brother’s plans crumble to dust. She’d seen to it that he died a horrific death of a thousand bites. Or, if he’d escaped, at least the ravening death of the Fury’s madness.

Yes, the queen of Luskan was well pleased.

A knock came at the door and she growled in consternation. She shoved one of the men away but kept the other. “This had better be important!”

The door opened to admit a trembling woman. Eden had never done well with female servants. They were so much harder to manage than men.

“Speak,” she said. “And-oooh! — make it quick, will you?”

“Aye, me priestess,” she said. “You commanded word of Shadowbane, aye?”

“I know what I said.” Eden was losing patience. “And call me Majesty.”

“Aye, Majesty-well, Shadowbane, he-he survived the market, and-”

“He was bitten, yes?” Eden said. “Tell me at least that he was wounded. Even lightly so. A single bite would do.”

The acolyte shook her head. “ ’Twas the blue-haired wizard, lady- Majesty. ”

It was all Eden could do not to throttle her. A hunger grew inside her-a constant whine in a thousand voices to feed . “Anything else?” she asked coldly.

“The Dead Rats’ enforcer, Sithe-she were hurt bad in th’ battle.”

“There’s that, at least. Begone!” She slapped the man kissing her neck. “Out all of you!”

The servants retreated hastily, knowing full well the price of disobedience.

Her chest heaving, Eden sat naked and sweaty on her wide bed, seething. The genasi might have contracted the Fury, but not Kalen? And not his blue-headed tart?

Damn her brother! Ever since he’d been born and taken away her mother’s sanity, his every act seemed dead set against her. He couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could he? She hated him. She hated him!

And that girl-the one that the Horned One meant to protect. Why did he care about that little slut and not Eden, high priestess of the Lady?

Why had Tymora turned her smile away and left her with Beshaba’s sneer?

It must be a test. Surely, it was a test.

Clearly, Eden had to kill them all herself. That would win her mother-rather, her goddess’s love.

She gave orders to bring her scrying bowl. She would prepare for a strike that very night.

7 FLAMERULE (HIGHSUN)

"You wanted to talk,”Kalen said. “So talk.”

“Straight to the point,” the elf said. “I like that. It shows character.”

They had returned to the mostly abandoned Drowned Rat tavern to find only a dozen or so members of the gang. A pair of toughs sat in the corner, their eyes twitching at everything that moved. Behind the bar, Flick poured drinks and dispensed rations. Other survivors avoided Kalen as though he himself had brought the plague. And perhaps he had-after all, his plan had led hundreds to their deaths.

“Myrin,” Kalen had said, but she’d shaken her head and gone immediately upstairs. Sithe might have gone with her, but the sun elf with the gold eyes laid a hand on her brow and murmured a short, lyrical verse. Kalen watched as healing magic, sculpted by his words, flowed into her and she stood a little easier. A bard, then.

They took a table near the center of the common hall, and Kalen waved for mead. The elf kissed the back of Flick’s hand, causing her to blush as she poured.

“None for me, dear one,” the elf said. “I’m not staying.”

Flick went away, casting her eyes back over her shoulder at the elf.

“Well?” Kalen asked. “Who are you?”

“I have many names upon many lips,” he said. “But Lilten is the name I prefer, teller of tales, singer of songs, walker of roads.”

“Lilten,” Kalen said. “Are you an adventurer?”

“Now that is a much longer story than we have time for me to tell,” the elf said. “After all, you have a city to save, hero. Suffice it to say, I am a traveler like you. I always seem to turn up when I’m most needed-or when I’m least wanted.”

“Such as against the demon.”

“Such as.”

The elf reminded Kalen of someone, but damned if he could say exactly whom.

“You healed me when Toytere tried to kill us,” Kalen said. “Why?”

“On behalf of Lady Darkdance,” Lilten said. “But this is not the matter under discussion. There will be time enough for all of that later. Ah. My lady.” He rose and bowed gallantly.

Myrin appeared on the stairs, looking very weary but at least cleansed of the dust of travel. She seemed to be steeling herself for what was bound to be an ungentle discourse. “Kalen,” she said coolly.

“Myrin,” he said.

“My Lady Darkdance, what a pleasure.” Lilten took her hand and brought it close to his lips, but he did not kiss it as he had Flick’s hand. “You look radiant, dear one.”

“Um, thanks?” Myrin stared at the dashing elf like a puzzle that defied her every attempt to solve it. Lilten smiled back. “Kalen?”

“Pardon me,” Kalen said to Lilten, then he followed her.

Myrin stood at the end of the bar, where the shadows hung deepest. She had assumed her familiar anxious posture, clutching one arm behind her back, with one toe grinding into the floorboards. “Kalen, I know what you’re going to say-”

“Thank you.”

“-but it was my own decision. I know you don’t approve but godsdammit, you need me and … did you just say thank you ?” Her eyes widened.

“Thank you.” Kalen put his hand on Myrin’s narrow shoulder. “I was wrong,” he said. “I needed you and I sent you away. It won’t happen again.”

Myrin blinked. “That-that was an entirely unexpected response,” she said. “Nor is that quite what I hoped you might say.”

“What did you hope I would say?”

“Perhaps, ‘thanks for saving the day again, Myrin,’ or ‘I’m glad to see you, Myrin,’ or ‘thanks for showing me what a wool-head I am when it comes to tactics, Myrin’-”

“All right.” Kalen squeezed her shoulder a little and took heart in the smile that crossed her face. The tension that had grown between them since their parting seemed to evaporate. He felt close to her and very comfortable in her presence. “What of Rhett?”

Her face fell and he could tell that he hadn’t said quite the right thing. She stepped out of his reach. “He’s well enough,” she said, her voice disinterested. “We marched five days to Westgate, stayed half a day, and I came right back.”

“Five days,” Kalen said. “It took you that long to decide to ignore my request.”

“You only told me to leave,” Myrin said. “You never said I couldn’t come back.”

“True,” Kalen said. “Rhett’s made contact with Levia?”

Myrin shrugged. “I never saw her myself, but Rhett looked optimistic when he returned from their moot,” she said. “Quite secretive, those Eye of Justice folk.”