“We came from Iriaebor to the south,” Morhion replied smoothly. “We’re traveling the Dusk Road.”
Faladar fixed Morhion with a piercing look. “You didn’t come over Yellow Snake Pass, then?”
“No,” Mari said, “we aren’t from … the east.” The significance of her words was not lost on Faladar. She could as easily have said, “We aren’t from Zhentil Keep.”
At this he grinned, apparently satisfied. “Come in, then, come in,” he said merrily. “You look like honest folk—er, except for that one.” He shot a questioning look at Cormik. “Are you certain he’s in your group?”
“I’m afraid so,” Mari said with an air of resignation.
Cormik gave her a wounded look.
The Five Rings was bustling, but Faladar saw to their needs quickly and with good humor. Soon their horses were stabled, their gear was stowed in a large suite on the second floor, and their bellies were filled with a repast of meat pie and barley beer.
After supper, Jewel and Cormik decided to delve into the underworld of Hill’s Edge in hopes of learning something about Stiletto. The two could have covered more territory if they had split up. However, neither trusted the other to reveal all he or she might learn, and so they went off together. Mari talked with Faladar after Kellen and Morhion headed upstairs.
In their chamber, Kellen watched thoughtfully while Morhion studied his leather-bound spellbook. As Morhion had explained, once a mage used a spell, the memory of it was wiped clean from his or her mind and had to be learned anew. Endless study was one of the many prices of magic. Kellen wondered when he would be allowed to learn spells, but he knew better than to ask. When the time was right, Morhion would let him know.
The door opened and Mari came in. Morhion looked up from his book, and for a moment a smile flickered across his usually impassive face.
“Faladar remembers Caledan,” Mari said, her brown eyes glowing. She sat down and recounted her conversation with the innkeeper. Faladar had been sweeping the front step of his inn when a striking man with dark hair and a blue cloak passed by on a white mare, heading for the bridge across the River Reaching.
Morhion closed his spellbook. “So Caledan is still following the road. How long ago did Faladar see him?”
“Four days ago. We’ve gained a day on him.”
Morhion nodded thoughtfully. “The Shadowstar draws him onward, but he is not certain where he’s being led. I imagine he must pause often, trying to determine in which direction the call is strongest. If we ride hard, we may catch up to him in a few more days.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mari said earnestly. “We can’t let him get to the Shadowstar before us.”
Kellen was just climbing into bed when Jewel and Cormik returned after paying a visit to the local thieves’ guild. The complicated etiquette of the underworld required that local thieves welcome their traveling brethren for a single night. After that, wandering thieves were fair game. Unfortunately, the two had not learned anything specific about Stiletto.
“However, I think we may be getting warm,” Jewel said, her dusky violet eyes sparkling. “Cormik and I got the impression that the thieves in Hill’s Edge started feeling Stiletto’s bite several months before we did in Iriaebor. That may mean they’re closer to his base of operations.”
“That’s something,” Mari said, then explained what she had learned from Faladar. Feeling optimistic, they went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be another long day.
Kellen woke in the middle of the night, with the same strange feeling as he had on the day when he saw the ghost of Talek Talembar. Something was going to happen. Something important. He sat up in bed. Cool moonlight spilled through the chamber’s round glass window. The mark of magic on his left hand throbbed fiercely.
Kellen rose quietly from his bed. The others were sound asleep. He could move very quietly when he wished, and Cormik’s steady snoring helped mask any noise. He slipped out the chamber door and moved down the corridor. As he went, he hummed a soft melody under his breath. The shadows to either side of him swirled, gathering around his slight form in a soft cloak of darkness. He smiled in satisfaction. To passing glances, he would be all but invisible.
Kellen crept down the stairwell, halting when he heard whispered voices below. The first voice he recognized as belonging to Faladar, the innkeeper. The second was unfamiliar, a grating hiss that jarred Kellen’s nerves. Cautiously, he peered between two slats in the stairway railing, into the common room below.
Faladar was arguing with someone. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know any friend of yours,” the innkeeper said indignantly.
“Ah, but you might have seen him,” the other countered in his sibilant voice. He was swathed entirely in a heavy black robe, his face lost in the shadows of a deep cowl. “I am certain you would remember, for he is a memorable individual—a tall man with green eyes. He wears a blue cloak and plays the pipes. Or perhaps you’ve seen his companions—a woman with dark red hair, a handsome mage, and a young boy.”
Kellen bit his tongue to keep from gasping aloud.
Faladar was growing angry now. “I’ve told you that I don’t know your friends. I won’t tell you again.”
“I think you lie, innkeeper,” the black-robed stranger hissed menacingly. “I think you have seen them.”
“Get out of my inn now,” Faladar growled. He raised a meaty fist threateningly. “Get out, or I’ll—”
It happened with eerie swiftness. The stranger snaked out a gloved hand and gripped Faladar’s throat. The innkeeper didn’t even have time to scream. The black-robed man squeezed his hand shut. There was a terrible crunching sound, and a spray of blood splattered against the whitewashed wall. The stranger opened his fist, and the innkeeper crashed to the floor.
Kellen clamped a hand to his mouth to keep from screaming. Fear propelled him up the stairs. Quickly, he slipped back into the chamber where the others were sleeping. He woke Mari first.
“Who’s there?” she asked in sleepy confusion. Kellen realized he still wore his concealing cloak of shadows. He whistled a sharp note, and the dark aura vanished. The others were awake now. Mari gazed at him in surprise. “Kellen, what is it?”
He explained in quick, breathless words. Two minutes later they were ready to go. They didn’t know who was following Caledan, but considering the importance of their mission, and given the stranger’s actions, it would be best to escape first and speculate later. It was a tragedy that poor Faladar had paid for his hospitality with his life, but there was nothing they could do for the innkeeper now.
Morhion opened the round window. “It’s about a dozen feet to the ground below. We’ll have to jump.”
Cormik eyed the window skeptically. “You can’t be serious.”
The mage gave him a flat, unfriendly stare. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Jewel went first, leaping nimbly out the window. Morhion followed. It took a good bit of shoving on Mari’s part, but she got Cormik and his paunch through the window. He landed below with an audible thud!, but from his whispered cursing he was quite all right. Kellen was next. He scrambled easily down a vine that was too weak to support the others. Mari came last, landing on her feet as gracefully as a cat.
At first Kellen thought they had made their escape undetected. They retrieved their horses from the stable and rode hard away from the inn; no outcry followed them. Soon he heard the rushing sound of water. They were close to the river now. But then a piercing shriek shattered the chill night air. Wide-eyed, Kellen glanced over his shoulder and saw a dark form running toward them with unnatural speed.
“It’s him,” he gasped. “The stranger I saw.”
“Keep riding,” Morhion instructed. “I’ll stop him.”