someone would discover what he'd done a long time ago at a small temple to Bane north of here.' The guard looked up at Cyric. 'Tyzack was hot-blooded and idealistic in his younger days, and he foolishly decided to revolt against the Black Network because they wouldn't accept him as a cleric. He raided a temple and slaughtered the young Zhentarim who had been sequestered there. If anyone from the Zhentarim ever found out — '
'It would mean his head,' the thief concluded. Then Cyric laughed. 'Tyzack was a fool! What he did might actually have put him in good stead with some of the powers in Zhentil Keep.'
The soldier frowned and lowered his eyes. Cyric smiled and whispered, 'I've done far worse than Tyzack ever dreamed of, Ren. But you won't have to protect my secrets. I take care of that myself.' The blond man's frown deepened, and the thief turned away from him. 'We'll wait another twenty minutes. It should be safe to send out scouts by then.'
Cyric paused and looked down at Tyzack's body. 'And then you can announce me as your new leader,' the hawk-nosed man said proudly and walked back to rejoin the ranks of his men.
X
'There's someone here to see you,' Varden said softly as he walked into the small room where Midnight and her allies were hidden.
Midnight turned from her spellbook, which was braced upon a splintering crate, and looked to the figures standing in the safe house door.
'Kelemvor!' Midnight gasped as she watched the fighter step into the amber light of the single small lantern that lit the room. The mage rose so quickly that she nearly knocked her book to the floor.
'You look like hell,' Midnight said, glancing at the leg irons the fighter still wore. Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. 'How did you — '
But as the green-eyed fighter moved toward the mage, Varden stepped in front of him. As the fighter watched, three other members of the resistance — the old man and old woman who owned the safe house, and a rough-looking Sembian soldier-moved to block the room's exits.
'I escaped from one set of captors into the arms of another, it seems. May I sit down?' Kelemvor asked, gesturing with his fingers toward a vacant chair beside the raven-haired mage. Midnight nodded and studied the fighter as he walked to the chair in a series of short steps that might have seemed comical were it not for the severity of his condition. By the flickering light from the lantern, Midnight could see the scars, cuts, bruises, and burns that lined Kelemvor's body. His clothing had become rags, and Midnight was reminded of the first time she had admitted her feelings for the fighter, in the corridors of Castle Kilgrave. Kelemvor had not looked much better then.
The fighter's hands trembled as he muttered, 'I haven't eaten in days. If I'm going to he tortured, can I at least have something to eat first?'
The old woman moved past Varden and Adon to the door. 'I need to check on Gratus anyway,' she croaked and left the room.
'How do you think he found us?' the craggy Sembian soldier said to Varden.
Looking up sharply, Kelemvor glared at the gruff soldier. 'You can ask me if you want to know something about that,' the fighter snarled. 'I overheard my guards mention this place as a possible safe house. They didn't think I was going to survive, and they talked in front of me as if I wasn't even there, just as you are doing.'
The others in the room, including Adon, silently stared at Kelemvor, wondering just how much of what the fighter said was the truth. Midnight, however, had no such problems with her former lover's story. 'Are we going to get these chains off him?' the mage cried as she looked around the room at her other allies.
'We can't do that,' the old man mumbled, running a hand over his bald head.
'He's right, Midnight. What proof do we have — ,' Varden began to add.
Midnight stood up and glowered at Varden. 'What proof do you need? Kelemvor is our ally… my friend.' The mage paused for a moment and her voice sank into a growl. 'And if you don't release him, I will.'
'But he came directly from Bane's garrison,' the old man said. 'He could have led the Zhentilar right to us!'
The cursed fighter bowed his head and sighed. 'I wouldn't have to lead them here. They know where you are,' Kelemvor mumbled.
The old man shook his head and looked around the room. 'Then why haven't they attacked us?' he asked sarcastically. 'We're still here, aren't we?'
'Listen to me,' Midnight said coldly before the fighter could speak. 'I want the chains removed, and I want food brought here. Immediately. Or I'll cast a spell that will raze this entire building.'
There was a moment of silence, then the old man stood and muttered, 'You win, mage. We'll do as you ask. But I will not have you threaten me again. I don't take well to threats… particularly from those who have sought asylum with me.'
Varden took out his lockpicks and unlocked the fighter's leg irons, then moved away quickly.
'Now his hands,' Midnight told the young thief.
Adon held up his hand to stop the thief from following Midnight's request. 'What if you're wrong?' he asked. 'What if he's here to capture you?' The scarred cleric pointed at the fighter and added, 'He was our friend… once. But it wouldn't be the first time he's led a patrol after us.'
The raven-haired mage was silent for a moment, then turned toward the cleric. 'You must trust me, Adon. I know that Kelemvor wouldn't harm us.' When the cleric bowed his head, the magic-user softly said, 'Varden, unlock the other chains.'
Varden turned away, a scowl on his face. 'All right,' the thief muttered and did as she asked.
When the irons clanked to the floor, Midnight sighed with relief. 'Now I want all of you to leave us alone for a moment,' the mage told her allies.
'Absolutely not,' said the old man, shuffling forward a few steps.
'Please,' Midnight cried. 'Do as I ask and we won't trouble you anymore. We'll leave. Now that Kelemvor's back, we can leave.'
'Very well,' the old man grumbled. 'If that's the way you want it.'
'That's the way it has to be,' Midnight answered, turning toward the fighter.
Adon, Varden, the old man, and the Sembian filed from the room. 'We'll be just outside this door,' Adon said, glowering a bit at Kelemvor. In moments, the room was cleared and the door swung shut.
'Oh, Kel,' Midnight cried, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her as she embraced the fighter. 'You don't know how good it is to see you.' She kissed his cheek then brushed the hair from his face. 'Are you all right?'
'I will be,' he replied, sitting up straight again. Midnight kissed him full on the lips then drew back as she realized that he had not returned the kiss. Something was wrong.
The mage furrowed her eyebrows and looked into Kelemvor's eyes. 'What happened? What did they do to you?' Midnight asked as she backed away from the fighter.
'That should be obvious,' Kelemvor growled, glancing at the dried blood on his clothes. The fighter stood and kicked the chains at his feet. 'I don't want to talk about it. Not yet.'
'We tried to rescue you,' Midnight told the fighter. 'We couldn't get into the garrison. Durrock found us…'
There was a momentary flicker of understanding in Kelemvor's eyes.
'Kel, I was so afraid for you. For both of us,' Midnight cried, tears running down her cheeks. 'We've got to get out of this city.'
'It'll be difficult,' Kelemvor noted distantly as he looked around the small room. In fact, he found himself looking at anything but the mage's eyes.
Midnight wondered why Kelemvor was being so cold and distant. Anger could have been the explanation, but it made no sense that his rage would be directed at her. Perhaps it was the strain of his recent incarceration. She stared into his eyes and saw it was neither of these. Varden and Adon might have been right.
