"Aye," Midnight said, and she gave the mount a gentle kick. Then she held on tightly as the riders suddenly found themselves in motion, racing through the night. "I suppose you're right. Lovely mount you've got."
"Purchased him just last week. Somewhat unruly, but fearless in battle."
Midnight grinned and patted the flank of the horse. "Takes after his master, I would guess."
Thurbrand laughed and rested his gloved hand on Midnight's bare knee, then removed it as the horse shot forward, forcing him to hold the horse's reins or risk falling.
Midnight wondered if she knew a spell to make the man keep his paws to himself, and his head on his own pillow in the dead of night. In truth, it didn't matter. If Midnight chose not to entertain company this evening and if her magic failed her, she still had her knife.
A knife always worked.
Midnight smiled to herself and relaxed slightly. Kelemvor wouldn't turn her away after he saw what she was going to do to Thurbrand.
Kelemvor returned from his fruitless quest angry and tired. He found Adon mysteriously bunked out on the floor, and roused the man long enough to find that all had gone according to plan: Gelzunduth had provided the false documents. Once Kelemvor had the papers, Adon crawled back to his bed of crumpled blankets on the floor and immediately fell asleep.
The fighter wanted to know how the mission had gone and, more importantly, why Adon was not spending the night in the temple, but he was relieved Adon hadn't volunteered an explanation. A vivid memory of an evening spent on watch, listening to the cleric endlessly praise his goddess, and himself for that matter, was enough to keep Kelemvor from asking for an explanation of even the simplest matter: Adon would invariably turn the conversation into a chance to praise Sune.
Hours later, when Kelemvor was sound asleep, Adon woke from his dreamless slumber and found he could not return to sleep. The cleric had feared he would find an armed guard waiting to escort him back to the dungeon at his humble quarters in the Temple of Sune, and so he had avoided the temple completely that night. Adon was grateful to Kelemvor for his generosity in letting him stay the night, but he had learned it was unwise to voice such sentiments to the man. He would find some other way to give thanks.
Of course, Adon knew that he was being overcautious. After all, Myrmeen had given him until highsun the following day to leave Arabel. But if her mood had changed, he might have found himself on the receiving end of an assassin's sword. His experience with the serving wench at the Pride of Arabel had made him wary.
So Adon dressed in the semi-darkness, attempting to ignore the condition of the room. The cleric's quarters had always been meticulously kept; Kelemvor's room looked as if some minor disaster had swept through the place, leaving weapons, maps, dirty clothing, and bits of half-eaten dinners laying everywhere. Judging from the look of the room, Kelemvor did not allow the cleaners access under any circumstances.
Realizing he should at least try to retrieve his belongings, Adon left the inn, and nervously traveled the back streets to the Temple of Sune. Once he reached the temple, he saw no signs of any guard, so he entered and charged a fellow Sunite with the task of retrieving certain belongings from his adobe. The Sunite rumbled some less than good-natured threats, mostly concerned with battering Adon's thick skull with his flail for having disturbed his slumber. However, once his fellow cleric understood that Adon was to be taking permanent leave, he acquiesced with enthusiasm.
When the Sunite returned from the adobe, Adon checked to be sure he had packed his war hammer, as he would likely need it from the girl's description of the castle. Then Adon returned to the Hungry Man Inn, cleared a small section of the floor for his belongings, and fell into a deep sleep.
Come first light of morning, Cyric woke the slumbering pair with news that his mission had also proceeded smoothly. Kelemvor immediately dressed and went to check on Caitlan's condition. He was pleasantly surprised to find her sitting up, attacking the breakfast that Zehla had only just brought.
"Kelemvor!" Caitlan cried when she saw the fighter. "When do we leave?"
Zehla gave Kelemvor a warning glance.
"As soon as you are able. And — "
"Is Midnight with you? I have such questions for her," Caitlan said. "She's a wonder, don't you think? So beautiful and intelligent and talented — "
"She won't be coming with us," Kelemvor said, noting the distressing effect his words had on Caitlan. The girl turned pale before his eyes.
"She has to come with us," Caitlan said.
"There are other magic-users — "
"It's my quest," Caitlan said, her true age showing for the first time. "You take Midnight or you don't go at all!"
Kelemvor rubbed his forehead. "You don't understand. Zehla, explain to her that a woman is not appropriate for a mission of this type."
Zehla rose from the bed and crossed her arms. "And a child is?"
Kelemvor realized he had been defeated, and gave in with a sigh. His quest for a magic-user the previous evening had been futile. The few mages who had shown any interest in the adventure were enthusiastic, but quite incompetent. One mage even burned himself out of house and home in an attempt to prove his worth.
"I suppose I could try to find her," Kelemvor said. "But Arabel is a large city. It may take more time than we have."
Caitlan looked away. "Then we'll wait."
"What about your lady?" Kelemvor said suspiciously, and again his words produced distressing effects.
"We'll wait just a little while," Caitlan said softly.
Zehla ushered Kelemvor out of the small room and joined him in the hallway. "I noticed the healing potions were untouched," Zehla said.
"I'm many things," Kelemvor said. "But I'm not a thief. Do you have any idea what caused her condition?"
"Exposure, exhaustion… her system was weak, and susceptible to any illness. It seems she'd been wandering the city for quite some time, trying to choose her champion."
Adon and Cyric had entered the hallway in time to hear this, and immediately joined the discussion.
"That's flattering," Adon said brightly. "She must have seen something special in you, Kelemvor."
"Actually, she'd become desperate. Kelemvor was simply the first likely candidate to speak to her," Zehla said. "She's a talkative little thing, once you get her going."
Kelemvor flinched slightly. What else had the girl mentioned to Zehla? Had she revealed his secret?
"We have work to do," Kelemvor said, and motioned for Cyric and Adon to follow.
Escaping unnoticed from the city would be a difficult matter. Both Kelemvor and Cyric would be expected on duty shortly after eveningfeast. Cyric may have had stealth enough to make it past anxious guards or over unclimbable walls, but the squarely built fighter with a child, a foppish cleric, and a magic-user in tow surely could not.
"Cyric, go buy clothing and whatever else you think we could use to disguise ourselves. Adon, try to find Midnight. We're going to… have to settle for her. I'll be here, finishing the packing and working on a plan," Kel said as soon as the three adventurers got outside.
An hour later, when Kelemvor emerged from his room, he almost collided with two of Zehla's men carrying armfuls of food. Outside, he found Cyric and Adon packing the supplies with a surprising lightness of step.
Adon grinned and nodded to the shadows of the stables, from which Midnight appeared, leading a magnificent black horse with a blazing red mane. Kelemvor's shoulders slumped in defeat, the memory of Caitlan's face and the possible loss of the gold she had promised weighing down his acid tongue.
"Do you gamble, Kel?" Midnight asked, playfully.
"It seems I am about to," he grumbled.
Midnight held out her hand. In it, she had a huge, braided tangle that resembled the head of a mop. "Courtesy of your friend, Thurbrand," Midnight said. Kelemvor recognized the strands as human hair; all the human hair, it seemed, that had been left on Thurbrand's head.