“Burke,” she said in a whisper. Suddenly her nervous feelings vanished, replaced with a girlish enthusiasm she had almost forgotten that she once had possessed.
Zehla smiled and collected the untouched plate as Myrmeen rose and crossed the inn, stopping before the table where her old friends were seated. Her heart sank as she realized that she only recognized four members of the party. Sitting close to Burke was his wife, Varina, a lithe, blond-haired woman who wore black armor with red trim, the same as her husband. Across from the couple was a man in his early forties. He had tightly curled salt-and-pepper hair, dark eyes, and skin that was deeply scarred by a childhood disease he had survived.
Despite his shortcomings, he was an attractive man, though not as dazzlingly handsome or thoroughly at ease with himself as Burke. His name was Reisz Roudabush, and he once had been in love with Myrmeen. Although she had cared for him deeply, she had not returned his affections. Reisz nodded and looked away, as if the mere sight of her was painful to him, even after a decade of separation. Sitting next to a chair that had been left open for Myrmeen was a tall, attractive woman who could have passed for her sister. Of all those who had come in answer to her summons, it was this woman, Elyn, who mattered the most to Myrmeen’s plans. In the corner was a thin, young brown-haired man whom Myrmeen had never seen before.
“There were ten of us,” Myrmeen said as she sat in the vacant chair.
“We are all that remains,” Elyn said. “I’m sure you know everyone but young Ord, here.”
The dark-haired man nodded. He did not seem pleased to be at the inn.
“What happened to the others?” Myrmeen asked.
“Everyone but Morlan is alive and well, retired from the life, and prosperous,” Burke said in his jovial voice.
Morlan had been a magic-user, a mage who had possessed a trove of available spells that had saved the group on many occasions. He also had possessed a collection of filthy jokes that Myrmeen continued to draw upon to this day.
“How did he die?”
“Fighting another wizard,” Varina said. “His death has been avenged.”
“You should have contacted me,” Myrmeen said. “I should have been a part of it.”
“We shouldn’t have needed to contact you,” Reisz said bitterly. “You should have been with us. If you had been—”
“It would have made no difference,” Burke said strongly.
Reisz returned his gaze to the drink he had yet to touch. “Probably not,” he agreed. “Of course, we’ll never know.”
“Ignore him,” Elyn said, placing her hand on Myrmeen’s wrist. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he left the womb with his dour attitude.”
Myrmeen became cold at the reference.
“What’s wrong?” Elyn asked, instantly alarmed at the change in her friend.
Myrmeen told them everything. In moments she was surrounded by a din of sympathy and outrage, oaths of vengeance and curses at fate itself. Reisz slammed his tankard on the table and the discussion abruptly ceased.
“She didn’t come to us for our pity,” Reisz said. “She needs something from us. Hear her out.”
Nodding slowly, Myrmeen said, “He’s right. I’ll need your help if I’m going to find my daughter after all these years.”
“Tell us what you want us to do,” Elyn said softly.
“I’m going to have to leave Arabel for a time, and that’s not as simple a task as it sounds. This place was ruled by anarchy before I took control. If I were to leave tomorrow, it wouldn’t be long before it returned to that state. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I do know that I don’t intend to allow what I’ve accomplished over the last eight years to be lost to me. I need someone to safeguard the city while I’m gone.” Myrmeen turned to the dark-haired woman beside her. “Elyn, I need you to pretend to be me for a time.”
Elyn shuddered. “Myrmeen, I’m a warrior. I’m not meant to sit on a throne and pass judgments. Besides, no one would believe that I was you without—”
“Magic,” Myrmeen said as she withdrew an amulet from her pouch and laid it on the table. “An old acquaintance of mine forged this trinket and cast a spell upon it that still works. Whoever wears this amulet will assume my image. We had needed some time alone and so one of my serving maids assisted me in the deception.”
“Let me see that,” the young Harper said as he reached across the table, snatched the amulet, and pulled it tight around his neck. There was a tiny snap as he fixed the clasp behind his neck and suddenly there were two Myrmeen Lhals sitting at the table. Only their style of dress distinguished them from one another. The boy looked down at his hands, then clawed at the amulet until he was able to release the clasp, the illusion suddenly dispelled. Hands shaking, he dropped the amulet in front of Myrmeen as the others laughed.
“Myrmeen, why me?” Elyn said.
“Because I need someone who would rule as I would; someone who would appreciate the responsibility and maintain Arabel in the manner in which I will instruct them.”
“What about the rest of us?” Burke said.
“I need only Elyn. I don’t need anyone else.”
“Of course you do,” Varina countered. “Why else would you have summoned all of us?”
Myrmeen hesitated. She did not have an answer.
“I’ll do it,” Elyn said, “on one condition: that the others go with you to Calimport. If the Night Parade is real, then it is the Harpers’ duty, as lord protectors of the Realms, to destroy it.”
“I don’t know,” Myrmeen said.
“You’d better decide soon,” Elyn said, smiling. “The offer is only good for a short time.”
“She’s right,” Reisz said. “You are too valuable to Cormyr to risk in the foul pit of Calimport. You must let us accompany you.”
Ord sat back, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t want our help. That much is clear. Why should we risk our lives—”
“Because she’s one of us,” Elyn said sharply. “When you join the Harpers, you become one for life.”
“But I never officially joined you,” Myrmeen said.
“A technicality,” Burke said as he offered his hand to Myrmeen. She took it and nodded in agreement.
“An error that perhaps we will see righted before this business is done,” Reisz said as he finally raised his tankard and drained the contents.
From somewhere close, Myrmeen thought she heard the low rumble of thunder. She dismissed the thought and settled back to spend the evening with her only true friends.
Two
The group arrived in Calimport a few weeks later, before sunrise. At Myrmeen’s insistence they spent their time stashing caches of gold, false papers, and weapons throughout the city. They made a full circle of the port city and saw opulent mansions sitting side-by-side with shantytowns. Traveling down a street at random sometimes led them to fantastic outdoor markets where the finest jewelry and clothing could be found, along with the most succulent of foods. That same journey just as often led them to scenes of abject horror, such as children with bellies bloated from starvation fighting their parents for the disease-ridden rats they had captured in the gutters, or street people openly relieving themselves before the disguised Harpers.
The group’s youngest member, Ord, was especially disgusted when a young man tried to sell himself, his sister, his mother, or anyone the warrior might desire, for the night’s comfort. The boy preferred life in the wilderness to the casual degradations he and his companions frequently encountered in the city.
Close to nightfall, they returned to the inn that first had caught their attention when they had passed through the city’s gates. They were in one of three rooms they had rented for the first leg of their stay, and the cook sent one of his apprentices with a pair of baskets containing their dinner. The Harpers devoured the meats, wines, and sweetbreads with barbaric speed, or so it appeared to Myrmeen. She had been used to taking her time with a meal and preferred to conduct business that strongly affected her city or her romantic life while sipping from crystal goblets filled with the most expensive wines in the land. Those days would have to be put aside, she realized, if she wanted the acceptance of not only the Harpers with whom she rode, but also the commoners whose assistance she would need if she was to find her daughter. Snatching the wine bottle from Reisz’s hand, Myrmeen threw her head back and took a slug. The wine was of a crude vintage and burned going down her throat. She did not betray her discomfort as she handed the bottle back to the older man.