by unmarked agents of the guard to entrap the sly Gelzunduth in any of these practices had failed.
Just before Kelemvor turned away from the window, the sight of his own reflection once again caught his gaze. The warrior studied his face: piercing, almost luminescent green eyes, set deep against a darkly tanned face consisting of a strong brow, straight nose, and practically square jaw. His face was framed by a wild mane of ebon hair with only a few streaks of gray to reveal that he had walked the Realms for over thirty summers. In the places where his bare skin was not protected by his clothing, it was plain that his chest and arms were covered by thick black hair. He wore chain mail and leathers, and carried a sword half the length of his body in a sheath slung behind his back.
'Ho, guardsman!'
Kelemvor turned and regarded the slip of a girl who had challenged him. She was no more than fifteen, and her delicate features appeared to have paid the price for the hardships and worries she had obviously recently undertaken. Her hair was blond and cut short in a boyish style, the strands matted to her scalp by her sweat. The clothes worn by the girl were somewhat better than rags, and she could have easily been mistaken for a beggar. The girl seemed weak, although she smiled bravely and attempted to move with a confidence her body no longer seemed ready to indulge.
'What business have you with me, child?' Kelemvor said.
'My name is Caitlan Moonsong,' the girl said, her voice cracking slightly. 'And I've traveled a long way to find you.'
'Go on.'
'I have need of a swordsman,' she said. 'For a quest of the utmost urgency.'
'There will be a reward for my efforts?' Kelemvor said.
'A great reward,' Caitlan promised.
The warrior scowled. The girl looked as if she might die from starvation at any moment. Less than a city street away was the Hungry Man Inn, so Kelemvor took the girl by the shoulder and guided her toward the inn.
'Where are we going?' Caitlan said.
'You need a hearty meal in your gut, do you not? Surely you already knew that Zehla of the Hungry Man Inn provides to those in need.' Kelemvor stopped, a touch of worry moving across his hard-set features. When he spoke, his words were measured, his tone cold and harsh. 'Tell me you did not need me to inform you of this.'
'Certainly not,' the girl said. Kelemvor did not move. His worry did not ebb. 'I did not need you to tell me of this. You did me no favor.'
'That's right,' he said, and resumed the journey to the inn.
Caitlan allowed herself to be led, puzzled by the odd exchange that had just taken place. 'You seem troubled.'
'These are troubling times,' Kelemvor said.
'Perhaps if you were to discuss…'
But then they were before the Hungry Man, and Kelemvor was ushering the girl inside. It was a quiet time of the day, and few patrons had arrived for highsunfeast. Those who were foolish enough to stare at Kelemvor and the girl were given a look that froze the blood in their veins and caused them to look away instantly.
'A bit young for your tastes, Kel,' a familiar voice said. 'But I suspect you have honorable intentions.'
Coming from anyone else the remark would have brought violence, but coming from the elderly woman who now approached, it caused a thin smile to etch its way across Kelemvor's lips. 'I fear the waif may collapse at any second.'
The woman, Zehla, touched Kelemvor on the shoulder and looked at the girl. 'A scrawny thing indeed,' she said. 'I have just the thing to put some meat back on those paltry bones. A moment and all will be ready.'
Caitlan Moonsong watched as the old woman left, then looked back to Kelemvor. The fighter's attentions seemed to have drifted once more to the thoughts that had been troubling him. Caitlan knew it was important that she choose her champion well, and so she dug into her pocket and removed a blood-red gem she had been saving. She hid the gem in the palm of her hand as she reached over and covered Kelemvor's hand with hers. There was a flash of pure red light and Caitlan felt the gem cut into her flesh at the same moment it scratched the hand of the fighter.
Kelemvor leaped up from the table, drawing back and away from the girl. His sword had left its scabbard and was poised over his head when the voice of Zehla rang out.
'Kelemvor, stay your hand! She means you no harm!' The old woman stood a few tables away, Caitlan's meal in her hands.
'Your past is open to me,' Caitlan said softly, and Kelemvor looked down at the girl, shocked from his rage by her words. Caitlan held the glowing red stone in her open palms, and she spoke as if she had been possessed. Slowly Kelemvor lowered his sword. 'You were on a mission filled with endless days and nights of waiting and deception. Myrmeen Lhal, ruler of Arabel, feared that a traitor lay in her midst. She assigned Evon Stralana, the minister of defense, the task of soliciting mercenaries to infiltrate the city's guard and attempt to ferret out the traitor.'
Zehla set the tray down before Caitlan, but the girl didn't even glance at the food. It was as if her voice had been consumed by the words she'd spoken.
'What sorcery is this?' Kelemvor said to Zehla.
'I don't know,' the old woman said.
'Then why did you stop me?' Kelemvor said, worried that the girl might still prove to be a danger.
Zehla's brow wrinkled. 'In case you have forgotten, blood has never been spilled in my establishment. While I'm alive, it never will be. Besides, she's just a child.'
Kelemvor frowned and listened as Caitlan spoke again.
'The minister of defense approached you and a man named Cyric. You were newly arrived in town and the sole survivors of a failed attempt to retrieve an artifact known as the Ring of Winter. The traitor was feared to be in the employ of those plotting the economic collapse of Arabel through the sabotage of trade routes, and the overall discrediting of Arabel as a vital city in the Realms.
'With the help of Cyric and one other, you found the traitor, but he made good his escape and now the city is blanketed in fear and distrust. For this you blame yourself. Now you toil as a common guardsman, allowing your talent for adventure to languish unfulfilled.'
The stone ceased to glow, and it now looked like a common garden stone. Caitlan caught her breath.
Kelemvor thought of the ice creature that stood guard over the Ring of Winter. He did nothing as the creature literally froze the blood of his companions, their screams ending abruptly as ice filled their throats. Their deaths had purchased the time Kelemvor and Cyric needed to escape. It had been Kelemvor who had first learned of the ring, and organized the party to retrieve the object, although he had deferred leadership to another.
'My 'talent' for adventure,' Kelemvor said with contempt. 'Men have died because of my so-called talent. Good men.'
'Men die every day, Kelemvor. Is it not preferable to die with your pockets lined with gold — or at least in that pursuit?'
Kelemvor leaned back in his chair. 'You are a magic-user? This is how you see into my innermost thoughts?'
Caitlan shook her head. 'I am no magic-user. This stone… this gem was a gift. It was the only bit of magic I possessed. Now it is spent. I am defenseless and at your mercy, good Kelemvor. I apologize for my actions, but I had to know that you were an honorable man.'
The fighter replaced his sword and took his seat. 'Your food is getting cold,' he said.
Caitlan ignored the food, although her hunger was apparent. 'I am here to make you an offer, Kelemvor. An offer of adventure and danger, of riches beyond belief and excitement such as you have craved these many weeks. Would you like to hear what I propose?'
'What else do you know about me?' Kelemvor said. 'What else did your gem tell you?'
'What else is there to know?' Caitlan said.
'You did not answer my question.'
'You did not answer mine.'
Kelemvor smiled. 'Tell me of your quest.'
