Shadowbane

Kalen hesitated, considering whether to correct him, then shook his head. He joined the halfling, who was giving his enforcer instructions of her own. Kalen could get no hint as to their nature from watching her blank face. She nodded and the halfling chuckled.

As Kalen approached, Sithe walked past him, sparing him not a single glance.

“Bidding your squire a fond farewell, no?” Toytere asked.

“He’s not my squire,” Kalen said. “And I thought our business between us alone.”

The halfling smiled and his sharpened teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “Where’s the trust in an old friend, Little Dren?”

“You were never my friend, Toytere-Cellica was.”

“And she was my sister,” Toytere said. “But, let us be agreed. There be no point in dragging the innocent betwixt our blades.”

“Not Myrin either,” Kalen said.

“What of me?” Myrin appeared between them, her arms crossed. “Are we to compare our blades all night, or are you coming?”

“I do so love me queen.” Toytere’s smile widened. “Away, then.”

Rhett turned to Sithe, his companion on watch atop the aftcastle. “Hail, Dark Lady!”

The genasi glanced in his direction, as though at a gnat, then away.

“Gods, this will go well,” Rhett murmured.

Myrin’s insides leaped when Kalen said he would be coming below, but he didn’t even look at her. Instead, he focused on Toytere, as though he expected the halfling to turn on him at any moment.

She couldn’t really blame Kalen for being upset. After all, she had stolen aboard the skiff without his knowledge or approval. But he’d tried to leave her behind in the first place, so it seemed fair. What was he so afraid of, that he wouldn’t trust her to come along?

It made her angry.

The first obstacle proved to be the door to the aftcastle, which was stuck. Toytere indicated it with a sweep of his hand. “If you will, Little Dren,” he said. “Mother Chauntea did not see fit to bless her littlest children with strength.”

“I should turn my back so you can stab it?” Kalen said.

“Oh! I’ll do it.” Myrin stalked over to them, raised her wand, and blasted the door open with a crack of thunder. It always made her feel better to destroy things when Kalen upset her, which was basically every time she saw him.

She looked to Kalen. “Well?”

“I’m sure no one in Luskan heard that,” Kalen said.

“Of course you’d say that.” She rolled her eyes and swept into the aftcastle.

The chamber was empty of bodies just like the main deck, but it showed evidence of occupancy. The shelves had held dozens of books and curios-mementos from a long shipping campaign. Now, they lay smashed, ruined, and heaped in a corner. The central desk was overturned and shattered, and scraps of mostly burned paper littered the chamber. The captain’s bed was also ruined-blankets torn into strips and covered in black stains.

Myrin noted a heap of gray dust, about two paces in length and one in width. “Hmm.”

Kalen scraped his dagger through the ash, sending particles into the air. “I’ve seen something like this before,” he said.

“What is it?” Myrin asked. Then, turning her head to avoid Kalen’s eye: “Not that I’m curious.”

Kalen hadn’t noted the gesture. “Can you clear the ash?” he asked.

Myrin waved her hand, igniting magic in the air. Wind gusted, blowing aside the ash to reveal a humanoid outline burned into the floor.

“Firesoul genasi,” Kalen said. “I’ve seen this before; burned from the inside.” Toytere’s face darkened. “Aye, that isn’t unnecessarily horrible.”

“It wouldn’t be such a bad fate, to return to your element,” Myrin said. “Dust to dust, fire to fire.” She saw that the two men were staring at her. “Or something like.”

“Genasi don’t usually die like this,” Kalen said. “It could be magic. Or plague.”

“Best be careful what we touch then, no?” Toytere asked.

They left the aftcastle, back onto the main deck. Toytere crossed immediately to a locked trapdoor leading down to the hold. He retrieved a set of well-used picks from his belt and set to work. He began to hum and his eyes glazed over. Myrin recognized signs of the Sight, so she knew he wouldn’t be listening for a moment at least.

It gave her a chance to be alone with Kalen for the first time in a year.

Kalen stood two paces away, craning his neck to see Rhett and Sithe. Here they were, alone while Toytere worked on the lock, and he was more interested in the others.

Not that Myrin herself knew quite what to say. Ultimately, she stepped closer to him and spoke softly. “There’s no need to worry,” she said. “I’m sure he’s quite well.”

“Vindicator should protect him.” He fixed her with his light gray eyes, which seemed almost white in the moonlight.

Words fought in Myrin’s throat. “You … you’re well?” she asked. “I mean, you aren’t hurt or anything?”

“I’ll manage,” he said, looking away.

The silence drew out between them, punctuated by the lap of the tainted waves of Luskan’s bay and the click of Toytere’s picks in the lock.

There was so much Myrin wanted to say to Kalen. She wanted to know what he’d done for the last year, to know about his new scars, to know why he looked at Rhett with such ambivalence. She wanted him to ask after her-godsdammit, she wanted him to look at her. But an impenetrable barrier lay between them: that awful moment a year ago in a rain-drenched alley in Waterdeep, where a helpless man lay under Kalen’s sword and, as now, he wouldn’t even look at Myrin, much less listen to her pleas for mercy.

“Rhett said you had a plan-about the Dead Rats.” Kalen’s sudden whisper surprised her. “Will you tell me what it is?”

“Other than trying to teach them to do the right thing?”

Kalen shook his head. “You prefer me to think you a naive fool.”

“Of course I don’t,” Myrin said. “You’ll just have to trust that I’m not.”

Kalen did look at her now. “Myrin, I-”

She drew a tentative step closer to him. “Yes?”

At that moment, a click sounded and Toytere put away his picks. Kalen looked away-the moment passed.

“Captain must have locked this hatch before shutting himself in that cabin,” he said. “Good news it still be locked-means the scum-dogs that hit this boat couldn’t pick it.”

“So there might be survivors below?” Myrin suggested.

Toytere looked profoundly doubtful.

The men opened the hatch, expelling a cloud of dust and the smell of age. “Hmm,” Toytere said. “I be expecting something a bit … fresher.” He stared blankly down for a moment, then shook his head. “Tread soft, no? I See danger awaiting.”

“Does this danger involve your blade in our backs?” Kalen accused.

In the darkness, Toytere’s eyes glittered, and his features, as the shadow fell across them, seemed very sharp.

“Oh, stop it, both of you,” Myrin said. “Toy, lead the way. Kalen, take up the rear.”

They climbed down a set of creaking, dust-covered steps. The hold was no more populated than the deck or the captain’s chambers and was just as much in ruin. Boxes were little more than wood shards and ropes lay scattered like dead snakes. Every step set something to crackling.

“Where are all the bodies?” Kalen asked.

“Bodies?” Myrin said.