Shadowbane

At this point, he had either to ask or leave, and Rhett was no coward.

“Lady Darkdance,” he said. “Did-on the ship, were you-?”

“Was I bitten?” Myrin supplied. “Kalen told you to ask, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Rhett blew out a sigh.

“I knew it.” Myrin slumped. “I suppose it’s too much to hope Kalen could trust me. We’ve been apart for a year, and he just doesn’t know me anymore.”

“It’s not that,” Rhett said. “It’s-he didn’t explain why, but I got the sense it had to do with the halfling. Perhaps-”

“Perhaps I’m sick and thus not thinking clearly.” Myrin stood and faced Rhett in the small room, her arms crossed. “Do you think that?”

Rhett shook his head. “No, but he wants me to find out.”

Myrin sighed. “Well, thank you for being honest. You could have gone about this so poorly. By sending someone else, for instance.”

“My lady, that’s-” Rhett’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

Wordlessly, Myrin set her fingers to work unlacing her bodice. A hand sculpted of blue light manifested to help with the process. It took only a breath. Freed, she undid the ties of her undershirt.

“I don’t-lady, that isn’t necessary,” Rhett said.

“Rhett,” Myrin said. “Is there any romantic attachment between us?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no.”

“Good,” Myrin said. “I want you to see for yourself. Then you can assure Kalen that I bear no bites where I could have caught the Fury.” Her face was set in lines of determination. “I can see no reason not to do this.”

“But-” Rhett trailed off. “You know? Neither can I. Carry on.”

There, in her chamber, Myrin stripped. Her golden-brown skin sparkled, and she seemed very dark in the dim light of her magic. Markings rose livid in her flesh, but they were not the welts Kalen had described to him. Instead, she bore a number of graceful black tattoos that shimmered with azure light. Rhett had seen such lights manifest momentarily on her skin as she cast her spells, but he’d not realized she had permanent ones as well. She bore large tattoos-about the size of fists-connected by faint trails of arcane runes.

All but bare, Myrin turned in place. “Satisfied?” she asked.

Rhett swallowed a lump in his throat, not sure he’d ever be satisfied. He realized he was staring, so he turned his eyes to the floor. “They’re lovely,” he said. “Your tattoos, I mean.” Among other things, he didn’t say.

“You think so?” Finally seeming self-conscious, Myrin crossed her arms behind her back, held one elbow, and ground her toe into the floorboards.

“Very much so.” Without thinking, he stepped forward. She did not retreat. “What do they mean?”

“They’re my spells. I-here.” She closed the distance between them, seized his hand, and touched it to the tattoo on her right forearm. “My thunder blast. See?”

The rune vaguely resembled a storm cloud, now that he looked at it. A line of runes ran up her arm to a larger tattoo on the outside of her biceps.

Myrin guided his hand to this higher mark. “My fireball. See the little tails?”

He traced his fingers around the tattoo, feeling her flesh under his touch. Now that she’d said that, he did see the pattern. “Right,” he said.

Myrin guided his touch up her arm and over to her right shoulder, where a rune seemed to spin like a whirring blade, trailing flames. “The firescythe,” she said. “It’s a similar spell to the fireball, though easier to cast and not as powerful.”

“It seemed powerful enough.” Rhett recalled the scythe spinning out over the sea with a shiver. How mighty was this woman, with her magic and tattoos?

Myrin turned a little, exposing her bare back. “My shield, on my left shoulder.”

He traced the line of runes to a symbol where she indicated. It looked faintly like a kite shield. He touched it lightly and she shivered. Her magelight, as though it languished without her concentration, began to dim.

“I have more,” she whispered. “Not many, but they’re appearing all the time. With greater frequency, as I learn more.” She clenched her fists. “I need to learn more.”

Rhett was hardly listening. He traced the runes leading up and over her shoulder, stepping around her. Myrin watched his hand, rapt. Rhett followed the path down her chest to a little portal of darkness. It seemed it might lead into her heart.

“That’s,” she said in a dreamy voice. She wet her lips. “That’s the shadow door-the one I learned from Methrammar’s memory. I-”

Rhett leaned in and kissed her. A shiver ran through her as her whole body relaxed into his embrace. For a heartbeat, they kissed like lovers in a bard’s romance.

Myrin’s lips parted and she murmured a name: “Kalen-”

Rhett pulled away, but with surprising speed Myrin caught his hand and they stood together, holding hands in the chamber.

Then Myrin’s eyes widened and she came fully awake. Her magelight brightened fully.

“Well-” Myrin released his hand self-consciously. “My memories won’t order themselves.”

Rhett may not have been the sharpest sword in Faerun, but this he understood. He had extended her an offer and she hadn’t taken it.

He turned politely away as Myrin slid her clothes back on. Their intimate moment had passed, shattered by what Myrin had said without thinking. It filled Rhett with equal parts frustration and sadness, but not for himself. This should have been Kalen’s moment, not his. Myrin wanted that and Rhett thought Kalen did as well. It seemed obvious to Rhett, who knew this dance well, but neither Myrin nor Kalen seemed to see it. Or if they did, they stubbornly would not act on it.

Well, if neither of them could do it on their own, he would just have to help. His Guard duty kept him to Torm’s path, but he could do some of Sune’s work too.

“I should go find Saer Shadowbane.” Rhett made the suggestion subtle.

“What?” Myrin said as she laced up her bodice. “Oh. Yes. I suppose.”

“Last I saw him, he was off with Sithe, doing whatever they go do.”

“Hmm,” Myrin said. “Well-that can’t be going well.”

“Oh?” Rhett paused at the door. Perhaps he could plant a seed of jealousy that would bear fruit. “I don’t know. They keep absconding to parts unknown, like something out of a copper-nib chapbook? They always look so … intense.”

“Oh, trust me-they’re not making love.”

“Oh.” She was very frank, this woman. “How-I mean, how do you know? I saw the look they shared. It was a very significant look.”

Myrin smiled just a little. “Call it intuition.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

24 KYTHORN (DAWN)

Crash.

Kalen skidded back with a bone-jarring thump against the crenellations at the edge of the roof. Sour water splashed in Kalen’s wake as he came to rest in a small puddle. The greasy wood groaned under his weight, but held.

Rain battered Luskan, stripping yet another layer of wood and thatch from already battered buildings. The streets were empty-even the most desperate of thieves avoided such miserable nights. Only the man of shadow and the woman of darkness braved the oily deluge.

Fighting the dull ache in his chest, Kalen forced his empty limbs to move. Equally numb fingers scrabbled through the water and muck for Vindicator’s hilt. He found it, then slammed the sword down on the rooftop with a growl of frustration.