"According to all public record, Erin Shandower passed on about four years ago," Lucius said.
Myrmeen nodded and shifted her gaze to the long-haired man who walked across the room and joined them, Krystin close behind. "Do you want to explain that?" she asked.
Shandower pulled up a crate and sat across from Myrmeen. "You understand what I do?"
"Yes," Ord said, breaking his self-imposed silence, "you kill monsters."
"I'm waging a war," Shandower amended.
"The odds are six thousand to one," Reisz said stiffly.
"It doesn't matter. Four years ago, when I decided to undertake this mission, my name was too well known. Erin Shandower had a position and responsibilities. The idea of a public entity like myself fighting a secret war against the people of nightmare sounded absurd to me and so I arranged for my own death. A fire. The body they found was one of the Night Parade's, one that appeared human. I haven't used my real name in years. I don't know why I did today."
"You've been following us," Myrmeen said.
"Of course," Shandower said. "I wanted to see if you were true allies in my cause."
"I don't believe any of this," Reisz said. "Why would you give up all you had? Why throw your life away?"
Shandower's face darkened. "I was not born wealthy. When I was young I fell in love with a beautiful, exciting woman who was as poor as I was, or so I had believed. Shortly after we married, I learned that she was heir to a fortune. A year after our union, she inherited. I found that the breezy life of a rich man did not suit me. I had been a warrior. Restless, I fell in with practitioners of the art and went on a journey of discovery with them that lasted half a year. All I learned was that I had been a fool to go away.
"When I returned to Calimport, my wife was dead. She had gone mad and taken her own life, or so the story went. I didn't believe it, and my investigation led me to forbidden knowledge. I found her killers."
"The Night Parade," Lucius said.
Shandower nodded. "I learned a great deal about them, including the fact that the great storm of fourteen years ago was not a storm at all. A festival of evil occurred here."
"But I remember the storm," Myrmeen said.
"Of course," Shandower said. "The monsters mask then-festivals by creating false memories in the survivors, such as storms, plagues, attacks by raiders, whatever they like. During the festival, they take every child that is born that night. The time was approaching for them to hold a new festival. I decided to try and stop them."
"How did you find them?" Reisz asked, suspicious.
Shandower shook his head. "I had secreted away a sizable fortune, then arranged for my own 'death.' Months after my estate had been picked apart by the government and my business associates, I once again became a public figure, albeit one of a very different kind. I knew that there were agents of the Night Parade everywhere. As the city I called my home had been the site of their last festival, I guessed correctly that several of the monstrosities would still be present in Calimport.
"Disguised as a mad prophet, I walked the streets dragging signs that proclaimed, "The Night Parade is coming. Protect the souls of your children!' I was jailed several times as a public nuisance, but eventually my efforts paid off. I was attacked by a member of the Night Parade who wished to silence me. I was able to overcome the creature, and I tortured the being until it revealed all the secrets of its kind.
"With the knowledge I had gathered, I was able to steal the apparatus the Night Parade needed to begin its next festival. The Night Parade has been trying to retrieve the object and punish the thief, but it doesn't know who I am.
"No matter the cost, we must stop the Night Parade creatures from gathering again and slaying thousands; they can only do this if they regain the apparatus, which I've kept safely hidden."
Krystin was silent. For a moment she felt faint as bizarre images sliced across the theater of her consciousness without warning or invitation. For a moment she thought she was being chased, though she did not know by whom, or for what reason. The images vanished as quickly as they had arrived.
I was their dog, she thought. They sent me to sniff out their prey.
Self-loathing surged through the girl. Hugging herself, she noticed the odd manner in which Myrmeen was staring at her. "If you have something to say, say it," Krystin spat.
Myrmeen exhaled a ragged breath. "My name is Myrmeen Lhal. I am the ruler of Arabel. Fourteen years ago I had a child that my husband told me was stillborn, like my younger sister. He lied to me and sold the child to the Night Parade."
Krystin stared at her without blinking. "Me."
"Yes," Myrmeen said warmly, a trace of the wonderment she first had experienced when she saw Krystin in the desert returning. "You are my daughter."
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Shandower said. Myrmeen looked up at him sharply. "I have another story that I believe you will find interesting."
"Tell me," Myrmeen said cautiously.
Shandower related what he had learned in the desert from the Night Parade members who were among Djimon's men.
"You're saying that they arranged for us to find Krystin? Why would they go to such measures?" Myrmeen asked.
"Because they wanted a peaceful way to get you out of the city," Shandower replied.
Reisz gave a bitter half smile as he glanced at Cardoc and said, "The spook must have frightened them."
"Perhaps," Shandower said without looking away from Myrmeen. "I believe they thought that if you had your daughter, you would leave. By this time they knew who you were and exactly how much attention your death would have attracted. They prefer to keep to their own, to keep to the shadows. You were forcing them to expose themselves to the light, to risk discovery. This way would be easier. Now we must address the issue of the girl."
"I have a name," Krystin said.
"Yes, you have much to lay claim to," Shandower said.
"I don't have to listen to this," Krystin said. "I didn't ask to be rescued by you people." The child shot an angry glance at Myrmeen. "And I didn't ask for your name."
"Nevertheless, you would have it," Shandower said. "It might be desirable to them to place one of their own in succession for your throne, Myrmeen. They often need money and favors. In time, you could pass on and she-"
"But you can see our resemblance," Myrmeen said, fighting to preserve what she now perceived as a fragile illusion. "Look at our faces, our eyes."
Shandower laughed bitterly. "And how many of the Night Parade have you encountered who possess the gift to change their appearance?"
A river of ice suddenly leapt from Myrmeen's heart. She felt an unexpected vertigo and tried to calm herself.
"That's it!" Krystin said. "I've had about as much of this as I'm going to take. You think I'm one of them?"
Shandower said nothing. Myrmeen looked at Krystin with an expression of fear intermingled with hope. Prove him wrong, she seemed to plead with her eyes. Krystin suddenly felt Myrmeen's overwhelming need, and the sensation made her uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at Shandower with her best, most penetrating gambler's stare. The man did not flinch, but he eased back a few inches. Restraining a grin, Krystin said, "All right. That glove of yours. When it's charged, the magic will kill any of them at a touch, right?"
"Yes," Shandower replied.