'No.'
'Well, they did me, and…'
The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and he realized that if he didn't get off his feet, he was going to fall. He tottered to a horse trough overflowing with rain and sat down on the rim.
'Are you wounded?' Ajandor asked.
'Not exactly. Fm not bleeding. I think I just need a few minutes.'
Ajandor's mouth tightened with impatience, and Kevin was sure that he meant to walk away and abandon him, weak and helpless, here in the midst of the haunted city.
Instead the knight said, 'Very well.'
They waited for a time, Ajandor standing, Kevin sitting, the only sounds the drumming of the rain and the creaking of some damaged building shifting toward collapse.
Finally, when the youth felt that mere talking wouldn't constitute an intolerable strain, he said, 'I figured it out. You aren't just watching out for the shadows, you're hunting them.'
'Correct.'
'With Princess Alusair's army defeated, you have no way to strike a blow against the wizards who killed Pelethen, so you're taking it out on the spooks they left in their wake.'
'It's a chivalrous act to purge the land of shadows, wouldn't you agree?'
In Ajandor's tone lurked an irony that mocked the entire notion of knightly duty, and never mind that he had always taught his squire that honor was everything.
'I suppose it should be done,' the squire said. 'Whatever you think, I'm not afraid to help, but is this a sensible way to go about it? According to your own lessons on tactics, we should have a company of men-at-arms sweeping Tilverton systematically, block by block. We should have priests and wizards to support them with their magic. We-'
'Perhaps,' Ajandor replied, 'but Fm not in the mood for that much company.'
'That's mad! I understand-'
A shadow fell over them. Startled, Kevin looked upward.
Something huge was soaring over the wreckage of Tilverton, eclipsing the attenuated light sifting through the clouds. Was it a dragon? Kevin couldn't tell. He had never seen a wyrm, and in any case, the titan's form was as indistinct as that of the lesser shadows. All he could truly discern were tatters of darkness that reminded him equally of a bat's wings and a jellyfish's trolling tentacles. That, and a sense of awesome power and malevolence.
It suddenly occurred to Kevin that the giant shadow might look down and see them, and he cringed, but the thing passed on over the gapped wall encircling Old Town and disappeared.
'The king shadow,' murmured Ajandor. 'In the end, if I must, I'll come to you.'
'Not without an army behind you,' Kevin said, 'and Vangerdahast, too.' Then he remembered the rumor they'd heard along the road, that Cormyr's famous wizard had likely perished in the destruction of Tilverton with the rest of the defenders. 'Well, some mage, anyway.'
'Ready to go?'
He wasn't, but he was reluctant to irritate his master by asking for more time. He struggled to his feet, and they wandered on.
Ajandor took to shouting challenges whether any shadows were in view or not, and from his perspective if not his squire's, it paid off. Alone or in groups, sometimes vulnerable to common steel and sometimes not, the phantoms slunk out of their hiding places to fight.
Somehow Kevin survived half a dozen of these confrontations, until to his profound relief, it started to get dark, and Ajandor agreed to return to the shelter of the gate. Not that the squire had any particular reason to think that they were truly safe there, either, but at least they weren't actively looking for trouble.
After he prepared another supper and watched Ajandor set his portion aside largely uneaten, he said, 'If you mean to continue hunting spooks, we could at least do it beyond the walls. The folk out in the countryside need protection.'
'I imagine the shadows slip out of the city to seek their prey,' said Ajandor, staring out at the night and the hissing rain, 'but they all lair inside, where the stink of necromancy lies thick on the ground. Therefore, I'll be protecting the refugees just as effectively by killing the phantoms in here.'
'The people may have other problems.' Kevin shifted position, and his shoulder, bruised by a phantom's attack, gave him a twinge. 'They may need a leader to sort them out.'
'I told you, I don't feel like bothering with other people right now.'
'I know they'd respect your grief. Each of them surely has griefs of his own.'
'Grief,' said Ajandor, as though the word were a paltry, inadequate thing. 'Do you know why Pelethen joined the Purple Dragons?'
'Because you did the same thing in your youth. Sir, that does not make you responsible for his fate.'
'It's funny. I was happy when Princess Alusair's summons came. To me, the war, with all its perils, was simply a fine excuse for a reunion with my boy.'
'I know how much you wanted to see him.'
'I wanted to give him this.' Ajandor drew Gray Dancer an inch out of its scabbard then shoved it down again. The guard clicked against the mouth of the sheath. 'As my father gave it to me. As we have handed it down in our family for four hundred years. What am I supposed to do with it now?'
'Use it to defend the weak, as you have always done.'
Ajandor chuckled an ugly little chuckle. 'As I have always done. And here at the end, what do I have to show for it?'
'Sir,' said Kevin, 'with all respect, you've lost much but not everything. Kirinwood is full of folk who love you. Mistress Waterthorn. Old Nobby. Galen Oakfriend.' He could have added himself to the list, except that it would make him feel like a whining child.
'I suppose it ought to shame me,' replied Ajandor, 'but I just don't seem to care, not anymore. My heart is empty.'
'I don't believe that,' Kevin replied. 'At the moment, all you feel is pain, but when it loosens its grip a little, the gentler emotions will return.'
'You're prattling.'
Kevin felt his cheeks flush. 'Sir, I just don't want to watch you commit suicide, and that's the true objective of our shadow hunt, isn't it? It's a miracle the creatures haven't slain the both of us already.'
'If you're afraid, then leave. I release you from my service.' Ajandor turned away.
That night, Kevin did indeed consider saddling his horse and trotting away back down the highway called the Moonsea Ride, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. There had to be a way to snap Ajandor out of his trance of despair!
After considerable pondering, the squire thought of one ploy that might serve. He was certain-well, reasonably so-that deep down in his heart, Ajandor still did care for all the same folk he'd cherished a tenday ago. If so, then perhaps a threat to one of those dear ones would bring the affection to the surface and restore the old man's perspective. It would show him that his son's death, tragic as it was, hadn't crushed all the meaning out of his life.
Though the scheme did have one drawback: Kevin himself would have to play the role of friend in distress.
All the other candidates were back in Kirinwood.
A nasty voice inside the squire's head whispered that his notion would never work, because Ajandor actually didn't care about him. Hadn't his brusqueness the past few days made that clear? In times past, Ajandor had been kind to his foster child but had really only cherished his son by blood.
No, Kevin insisted to himself, it wasn't so. He could conjure up a thousand memories that proved Ajandor's love for him, and that meant he could make his scheme work. He'd slip away, his foster father would chase after him, and in the end, everything would be all right.
As the night wore on, weariness at last overtook Ajandor. He sat down with his back against the wall, and, gradually, his head drooped until his chin rested on his breast. A soft buzzing issued from his mouth.
Moving quietly, Kevin rose, unlaced one of the saddlebags, and took out a stick of chalk, which Ajandor had
