Shadowbane

city would never know peaceful quiet, even if all the folk lay cold and dead. A fate that might come remarkably soon, if he did nothing.

“I suppose you’ll just have to do,” he said.

CHAPTER TEN

23 KYTHORN (HIGHSUN)

The rotting city of Luskan bore the scars of centuries of war and neglect. By the Year of Deep Water Drifting, the city was a ramshackle maze of dusty stone, withered trees, and mostly abandoned buildings, many of them gutted hulks. Shady folk wandered the streets doing business, partaking in barter, or shouting up to festgirls and boys leaning out the windows. Making it through a day without being pickpocketed, mugged, or maimed was an accomplishment.

And Myrin loved it.

Not that she enjoyed seeing people in distress. But despite Luskan’s misery, she could still see the life shrouded under its dusty surface. She heard laughter in the streets, saw folk smile and jest as coin changed hands. Beneath the reek of mildew and spoiled fish, she smelled hot cakes on the griddle. Perhaps she was naive, but she couldn’t help seeing it.

“Lady? Wait!”

She might have enjoyed it more if she hadn’t had an attendant in tow.

“I don’t think when Saer Shadowbane told me to protect you”-her young bodyguard hurried around an apple stand-“this is what he meant.”

Myrin sighed. “I disagree with your assessment, Reginald.”

“It’s Rhett, actually.”

“I believe following me everywhere is exactly what Kalen meant,” Myrin said. “After all, how can you protect me if you don’t accompany me? It’s simple logic.”

“I can’t really argue with that,” Rhett said. “Wait, lady!”

She strode forward, heedless of how closely or tenuously he followed her.

Wearing cloaks to conceal their distinctive features, Myrin and Rhett cut through Luskan’s market, where two dozen stands opened up by day to trade hard-crusted bread, blistered fruit, nuts, and scavenged foods.

Normally, trade with pirates on the Sword Coast supplemented the city’s rodent population and together, they supported the food demand. Five days into the quarantine, however, imports had slowed to a trickle and rats grew scarce. The people of Luskan were on the last scraps of food that could be scavenged or killed for and only those vendors who had managed to hold out could stay open. Prices rose every day, until a single mealy apple cost a tenday’s cutpurse work. Merchants tripled their guards as fights in the market became more common with each passing day.

A priestess of some sort had attracted a crowd for her shrill sermon on the power of providence. “Good luck,” she professed, “is the blessing of the goddess, and one should always follow the path of coincidence.” Her audience seemed less interested in her dogma than the crumbs of bread she handed out to those who praised Lady Luck’s name. Indeed, the folk might have trampled her into her dais were it not for her two extremely ugly bodyguards and their even uglier clubs studded with metal shards.

“Lady!” The lagging youth had got himself tangled in the arms of two coin “lasses”-Myrin was fairly certain one was actually a lad-who ran their hands all over him, staying him and exploring his pockets. Nymphers, Kalen had called such streetfolk in Waterdeep.

“I mean, thanks, but no, that is-” Rhett said. “Well, that’s really quite compelling but not entirely appropriate and I-my lady!”

Myrin stood waiting while he fought to extricate himself. When they were done taking what they could from the boy, the nymphers let him go and he stumbled over. He cleared his throat and sought to recover his composure. Myrin looked at Rhett’s belt, which the lad was checking to make sure everything was intact. “You took Kalen’s advice about leaving your purse behind, right?”

“Alas, no.” Rhett patted his belt pouches sadly. “I hope this quest of yours to redeem the city is worth it.”

“My what now?” Myrin asked.

“Your quest,” Rhett said. “To save Luskan? That is why you’re staying?”

“Oh, that,” she said. That was certainly part of it. “Let’s go this way.”

She was looking north of the market, at a blasted area of moldering wood and broken stone, a sweeping plaza of emptiness. It resembled an ashen scar on the face of an already ugly city. The dark magic of the place tugged at Myrin’s spirit. Her spellscar ached.

“Something really, really terrible happened here,” she said. “The land hasn’t healed.”

“ ’Tis ill luck to enter the Prisoner’s Carnival,” Rhett said. “Saer Shadowbane told me about it. A century ago, the ruling lords tortured and executed prisoners here.”

“Charming.” Myrin started into the blasted area, but Rhett lingered. “Come. The bridge isn’t far-perhaps a hundred paces. Unless you’d prefer we take the Blood Bridge.”

Rhett shivered. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Saer Shadowbane said the Shou control that bridge and we shouldn’t go anywhere near it.”

“You always do what Kalen tells you?”

“That’s the theme.”

Myrin found the half-elf’s timidity both annoying and endearing. He was good-looking too, wearing his fey heritage well about his stronger human features. She thought she could develop real feelings for this man, if only he would stop bringing up Kalen every few breaths.

“Well, I’m going through-you can follow if you want.” She crossed her arms. “Mind, if I get eaten by a ravening beast, I’m not the one who has to explain that to Kalen.”

Rhett cleared his throat, considering. “Aye, well … let’s away.”

Myrin heard Rhett suck in a breath as she stepped down the bank into the ruined square, then exhale when no dark terror reached out to snatch her. She pressed on through the sooty, stinking plaza. He hurried to keep up, his plate armor clanking.

“Will you hear me, majestic-but-stubborn lady?” he said as they crossed.

“Myrin. Unless you’d like me to call you handsome-but-empty-headed lad.”

“Well, in that case-wait, handsome, you say?”

Silently, she crossed her arms and ground her foot into the detritus on the street. He was going to bring up Kalen again, she thought.

“Myrin,” Rhett said. “Why wouldn’t I heed Kalen’s words? He’s shown considerably more foresight than you, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I never mind misapprehensions,” she said. “You don’t know Kalen any more than you know me. If you did, you’d know that a place like this …”

“The Prisoner’s Carnival?”

“Luskan,” Myrin corrected. “This is a bad place for Kalen. It brings out something in him-something monstrous that I’ve seen but you haven’t. Not yet.”

“Nonsense.” Rhett crossed his arms and glared right back. “He may be ruthless, but he’s no monster. I’ve seen nothing to suggest otherwise.”

“Ask him about a dwarf named Rath,” Myrin said.

“Wrath?” Rhett asked. “For true?”

“Rath.” Myrin shrugged. “A dwarf murdered where he lay, helpless and bleeding.”

“Saer Shadow-Kalen did that?” Rhett’s eyes grew wide.

“Indeed he did.” Myrin closed her hands into tight fists, which started to burn with blue flame. “Oh, no doubt Rath deserved it-being a thief and an assassin and all-but Kalen Dren is no better than the brutes to whom he shows no mercy. Remember that.”

“Lady, you must be mistaken in some regard-”