'We're all right,' Myrmeen replied. 'I chose this place for a reason. There's a depository less than a mile from here. In the morning, I want you to take this claim ticket and retrieve the cache I left there for emergencies. The gold you'll find should be enough to get us through another week or two, if we're careful.'
'They're open all night. Why not go now?'
'Because the Night Parade revels in the darkness. We don't want to be seen by the burning man who nearly had us before, now do we?'
'Good point.'
A sudden change came over Krystin. She thought once more of the locket, of the strange images that had come to her as she stared into its jade depths, and she knew that she had to own that locket, had to possess it no matter the cost.
Krystin crept back to her room and waited for midnight, her fear of the darkness all but forgotten in her excitement. When she was certain that the hour had come, Krystin returned to the room shared by Reisz and Ord. She found the door unlocked and quietly entered, using every technique of stealth that Myrmeen had taught her. She froze when she saw Myrmeen lying on the floor, her face turned to the wall, then relaxed and moved to the small nightstand beside the bed where Reisz lay. The claim note rested in plain view. She took it without incident, then retreated from the room without disturbing the others' sleep.
As she walked down the hall, Krystin heard Myrmeen sob quietly in her sleep. She stopped for a moment, thought about going back, then hung her head low and proceeded down the stairs.
Twelve
Krystin was painfully unaware that dawn had arrived. She had lost most of the night staring into the emerald depths of the prize she had betrayed her benefactor to acquire. Procuring Myrmeen's cache of valuables had been a simple task. The locket had been waiting for her in the marketplace. She had divided the gold that she had not spent, burying most of it in the soft, well-packed earth of a deserted, fire ravaged barn. The money would serve as insurance that, in the event the others did not survive the war on the Night Parade, Krystin would have a stake to begin a new life elsewhere-in Arabel, perhaps.
Returning to her room at the inn, she had sewed the remaining gold into the lining of her sash and the inside of her boots. Then she had curled up on her bed and held the emerald locket before her. Thin white beams of moonlight had sliced into her room and fallen upon the locket, reflecting the light with brilliant, prismlike shards. It was not the beauty of the object that accounted for its fascination to the young woman. Krystin knew that if she had been pressed to explain the locket's significance, she would fail in the attempt. All she knew was that she had seen this locket, or another trinket that looked identical to it, once before. She sensed that if she could remember exactly when and where she had glimpsed it the first time, she would be on the way to solving the mystery of what had happened to Melaine, Byrne, and Caleb Shar. She had to know if she could trust her memories.
As the night went on, her world had become a sparkling green field, a beautifully woven tapestry of hazy, indistinct images. She shuddered in anticipation as the fog encompassing her vision stepped up to the threshold of clearing then hesitated. Figures danced back and forth in the emerald world. They gestured broadly, inviting her into their land with words that she could not hear and actions that she could not quite discern.
Suddenly she was aware that it was morning. She glanced out the window and watched the final stages of the sun rising above the city. Her fingers closed over the locket in frustration. Krystin could not tell if the visions she had glimpsed had been inspired by the locket, or if she had imagined them all. She felt exhausted. Realizing that further examination of the locket would have to wait, she hid the item by carefully sewing it into the fabric of her sash.
For the first time she understood that she should have felt guilty for stealing from Myrmeen, but there was no emotion attached to the knowledge. The woman should have purchased the locket for Krystin in the first place. She had more gold in other caches in the city. The Harpers would not have starved.
Krystin no sooner had looked up after hiding her stolen sewing kit than the door swung open wide and Myrmeen entered the room. The older woman came to a sudden halt, obviously surprised to find Krystin awake and fully dressed.
'I didn't bother getting undressed last night,' Krystin explained truthfully.
'Get your things. We're leaving here,' Myrmeen said. 'There are not only rats and spiders in these rooms, but vermin that walks on two legs, too.'
Krystin shrugged as Myrmeen left the room, closing the door behind her. She had seen no trace of either spiders or rats during the night. Myrmeen's terrible dreams were returning, and, in Calimport, the line separating dreams from reality was as thin and sharp as the cutting edge of a sword. The claim note's theft obviously had been discovered, and the thief was closer than the woman ever would have expected. Krystin gathered her few belongings and left the room, pausing only to touch her sash and feel the locket's comforting weight.
The others were waiting for Krystin downstairs. They wasted little time after paying for their lodgings, and within the hour Krystin once again was standing before the Bloodstained Sword. Myrmeen emerged from the building, shaking her head.
'What are we going to do?' Krystin asked.
'What else can we do?' Reisz said in annoyance. 'We'll have to go to the next cache, that's what.'
Myrmeen held the claim note. 'They have it in their logs that I came here last night and retrieved my property with this. Gonzmart, the gentleman who was on duty last night, was fired this morning. They say he was drunk.'
Krystin ran her hand over her face. 'Maybe he took your things,' she said, careful not to mention that she knew that it was gold they had come to retrieve.
'I doubt that a drunkard could have slipped into our rooms last night,' Myrmeen said.
'Unless he had an accomplice,' Reisz said. 'Go back in and tell the day manager, Myrmeen. We may never see your gold again, but the Harper in me wishes to see justice done.'
'Does it matter?' Krystin said nervously. She had decided that intimating the guilt of the night guard would avert attention from herself, but she had not stopped to think of the consequences. If the man were caught, he would be able to identify her.
'He took what was mine,' Myrmeen said. 'If this were Arabel, he would see damned quick exactly how much that matters.'
'I understand,' Krystin said, 'but wouldn't he have left Calimport by now? Or at least found a hideout that he knew was secure? We could spend days trying to find him-'
'She has a point,' Erin Shandower said, breaking the long silence that had suffused the others.
'I agree,' Ord said as he turned to look at Krystin. 'Our mission is not to capture and punish common thieves. My mother and father did not give their lives so that we could waste the time they purchased for us with their blood.'
For a time, no one spoke. Ord's words had struck deep within the hearts of Myrmeen, Shandower, and the Harpers. Krystin felt an elation that was difficult to hide when Myrmeen finally hung her head and whispered, 'We shouldn't have made it so easy for the thief in the first place.'
Reisz frowned and looked away. 'Let's move on. We'll be more careful next time.'
The group remained together in a tight formation as they made the journey back to the inn, where their mounts were tethered. The streets already were filled with people, and Krystin wondered if there ever was a time when Calimport truly slept. The people of the city seemed to maintain shifts to keep the busy trade streets bustling at all times. The Harpers merged with the crowds whenever possible. On a barren street they would have attracted attention, but here they were invisible.
They passed street performers who sang of sad, mournful times, then collected the guilt and sympathy of the crowds in the form of their loose change. A contortionist executed a bone-snapping arrangement of his limbs that had the two dozen men and women gathered about him clapping and shouting in approval. Krystin watched a dark- skinned young man place a series of towering obstacles in his way. He approached them with a running start and vaulted over them, one after another, without touching them with any part of his body. The display was impressive, and Krystin felt a slight flush in her cheeks as she watched the young man's sweaty body as he spiraled in midair
