Then he caught himself and returned her embrace.

'By the Lady above, Caledan!' the halfling woman cried, caught between laughter and tears. 'You've come home. You've come home!'

Caledan cast a wry grin at the halfling man in answer to the fellow's look of bewilderment. 'It's good to see you after all these years, Estah,' he said, hugging the halfling woman tightly. 'Especially when so much has changed. But I've someone here who needs your attention more than I.'

'Oh, by the Lady!' Estah said, letting go of Caledan and only just now seeing the still form of the Harper lying on the bench. Concern flooded her deep brown eyes and touched her broad, rosy-cheeked face. She laid a small hand gently on the Harper's pale brow. 'My pretty child,' she said, and then she assumed an air of briskness. 'How like you, Caledan Caldorien, to drag a poor lass about when she's hurt like this. Now don't be in my way. I've work to do.'

Estah promptly began running her hands over the unconscious Harper, expertly feeling for injury. Caledan looked at the halfling man-evidently Estah's husband- and shrugged.

'We're old friends, Estah and I,' was all Caledan said.

The halfling man whom Estah had called Jolle simply nodded and lowered his cudgel. 'Then you're welcome here, friend.'

As if on cue, the room suddenly burst into action. 'Coast's clear!' a man keeping watch out the window called. With a swiftness and efficiency that suggested the movements were well rehearsed, the inn's patrons proceeded to transform the common room. Bright cloths were spread across the tables, candles were lit, and a fire sprang to life on the hearth. The dirty cloths were snatched from the long wooden bar and quickly stowed away. The board bearing Lord Cutter's Rules was turned around to reveal a notice that read: Ale, Two Silver Pieces. Stout mugs clinked together merrily as they were filled to the brim with foaming brew.

'Welcome to the Dreaming Dragon, stranger,' a grizzled fellow said as he handed Caledan a tankard.

The only answer Caledan could manage was an amazed smile. It looked as if some things hadn't changed so much after all.

It was well into the morning when Caledan awoke. Pale, golden sunlight streamed through the small round window of his third-story room — the same room that had been his when he had lived in the inn, in the days when he had been a Harper, and Estah had been his oldest and truest adventuring companion. He rose, washed his face in a tin basin, and scraped the dark stubble from his chin and cheeks with a straight razor he found in a drawer. He laughed, and the reflection in the mirror laughed silently back at him, green eyes dancing.

Last night Estah had tended to the Harper woman, Mari, in her efficient, caring manner. Mari's shoulder had been dislocated by the wizard's magical bolt, and the shock had jolted her into unconsciousness. However, the halfling healer had inspected the wound and announced that it was not dire. She had deftly pushed the joint back together- Caledan was rather glad the Harper was not conscious for that-and then from beneath her own blouse had drawn a small, intricately wrought silver amulet.

It was engraved with the flowing symbol of Eldath, the Goddess of the Singing Waters. Caledan had seen the amulet on too many occasions, when he or one of his other traveling companions had been wounded in battle. It had been given to Estah by her mother, and while in most hands it would have been but a pretty, lifeless piece of metal, Caledan knew that in the hands of a true healer the amulet had impressive powers. When Estah laid it on the Harper's shoulder Caledan thought he heard a faint musical humming. The Harper's brow-furrowed in pain, even in unconsciousness-relaxed, and her breathing grew deep and even.

They had carried the Harper upstairs to sleep, and then Caledan and Estah, along with her husband Jolle, had sat by the flickering fire, talking late into the night. They spoke of the seven years since Caledan and his band of companions had separated and gone their different ways.

He had met them, one by one, in his missions as a Harper agent, and each-for his or her own reasons-had chosen to throw in with him. Their journeys had taken them across the length of the Realms, fighting tyranny wherever they found it, and over time they had become more than simply friends. They were a family. They had called themselves the Fellowship of the Dreaming Dragon, for the six of them had all resided in this very inn that Estah still owned.

But all of that had been before Lord Ravendas, before Caledan had buried hope and music in the hard earth and had left the Harpers behind him. Seven years ago the Fellowship had disbanded, and all Caledan had tried to do since was forget the past.

'But you didn't forget,' Estah had said, placing her hand on Caledan's. 'And now you've come home.'

Caledan sighed. Home to what? Estah married Jolle a few years after the Fellowship had disbanded. Now the two of them spent their time struggling to keep the city guards from harrowing the inn, not an easy task in these difficult times. They did their best to foster the illusion that they obeyed Cutter's rules, all the while secretly maintaining the inn as a refuge for the cityfolk, a place where they could still find a pleasant hint of the days when Bron had ruled in the tower. 'I'll choke on her rules before I take a single word of them to heart,' Estah had said, her eyes flashing.

Ravendas and her Zhentarim servants had taken over Iriaebor about a year ago and had been steadily sapping the life out of the city ever since. If Ravendas caught sight of Estah, the Zhentarim lord was bound to recognize the halfling healer from her encounter with the Fellowship seven years ago. That would spell the end of the Dreaming Dragon.

'But not if I can help it,' Caledan growled to no one in particular. Then he laughed grimly at himself. That sounded like something Caledan the Harper would have said. He had always been so ready to play the hero. Fool was more like it.

He pulled on his black leather breeches and the matching jerkin over his white shirt. He jammed his feet into his boots, checking to make sure his dagger was in its sheath. He was about to head downstairs when the door to his room burst open.

Two very small people bounded through the doorway, laughing and giggling. They were Estah's children, Pog and Nog. Caledan had been surprised when Estah had introduced him to them the night before.

'It's time for breakfast, Uncle Caledan,' said Pog. She Was the elder of the two, pretty yet impish.

'Eth, geckfebst!' echoed Nog. He was the younger, a tiny, round-cheeked boy who spoke in a language only Estah and Jolle seemed capable of deciphering.

Caledan let Pog and Nog lead him down the back stairway that led to a private chamber situated behind the common room. Neither one of them stood higher than his knee, and he felt like a great behemoth towering above them. Deciding Estah would be angry if he stepped on one of them, he grabbed both children and stuffed one under each arm. They squirmed and squealed a great deal, but he let them go when he reached the foot of the stairs. They promptly forgot their big new friend-much to his relief- and scampered off, probably to torture each other, or whatever it was children did. This uncle business was going to take some getting used to.

Jolle had suggested that both he and the Harper keep to the back room in the wing of the inn that jutted out over the edge of the Tor. Given yesterday's incident, it seemed best for Caledan and Mari to keep a low profile.

Caledan saw that the Harper was sitting in a chair pulled close to a small fireplace. She was wrapped in a patchwork quilt, and still seemed a bit pale, but otherwise looked little the worse for wear. Estah was with her, and Caledan found himself slightly perturbed to see the two talking animatedly. He ambled over and sat next to them. The Harper's smile quickly vanished as Estah looked at him worriedly.

'You might have told me, scoundrel,' Mari said sullenly.

'Would you have believed me?' Caledan asked her with a wry expression. He winked at Estah. 'I seem to remember someone saying I looked more like, let's see… what was it? Ah yes, more like a Vagabond cutpurse than a hero of renown.''

Mari frowned at this, but after a moment she began to laugh. 'It's true, you know. Though you are looking a bit more presentable today. I see you actually have a face beneath those mangy bristles.'

Estah smiled hopefully at Caledan and then left them alone to discuss their 'Harpery business' as she had always called it.

'You still look more like a highwayman than a hero,' Mari added stingingly after the halfling was gone.

'Listen,' Caledan said, anger suddenly flaring in his chest. 'I'm sorry that I'm not the storybook knight you were expecting, but let me set one thing straight. I am not a Harper anymore. Nor do I wish to have dealings with them. When I left the order seven years ago, it was final. Is that understood?'

Вы читаете Crypt of the Shadowking
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