Shadowbane

“Neither. Both.” She shrugged. “I feed the hungry and clothe the naked-at the end of a night when fewer starve or freeze than had to, does it truly matter?”

“Yes,” Kalen said.

Eden smiled at him.

Silence stretched, punctuated first by the scrape of glass on wood when Eden set her empty glass on the side table, then by a click-click-click as Eden tapped her fingernail on her eye-coin. The rhythmic sound grated.

“That’s it?” Toytere said. “You’ll tell us nothing?”

The halfling’s tone drew their attention. He was the picture of anxiety; sweat beaded on his forehead and his jaw was clenched tight. He shivered, as though he could barely hold back a far more violent outburst. He recoiled as though chastened.

“The Fury.” Eden took up her cane and rose from the divan. “You’d expect, in the nature of plagues, to see folk hacking and coughing, but no. Rather”-she stepped toward Kalen with an awkward sort of sensuousness, like a wounded cat that yet stalks its prey-“rather, folk become beasts. Moody, aggressive, even mad. Rioting in the streets, brawls and duels … ’tis only after, if victims survive all the fighting, that the sickness eats them from within.”

“Well,” Toytere said. “Thanks, lass, but we knew all that. Now if you’ll excuse-”

“This plague,” Kalen said, his eyes on Eden. “How does it spread?”

He knew the answer already-in his heart-but he needed the words.

“None know,” Eden said. “It could be water, or air, or blood-maybe rats?”

“Bah,” Toytere said, avoiding Kalen’s questioning glance.

“Myself, I believe it simply a part of this city,” Eden said. “The gods’ curse, laid upon ruined Luskan. Here, after all”-she touched Kalen’s chin with her cold, gloved fingers-”who’d notice everyone fighting all the time? You could have it and think you are simply trying to live in the harsh world that is Luskan. At least, until the rages begin.

“A person with the Fury,” she began as she turned to Toytere, who veritably shook. She swayed up to him and gently laid her hand on his head. “He grows impatient, first. Then he shouts or snaps at naught. Then out of the blue he savages you. Like an animal. And then”-she clicked her tongue while reaching for Toytere’s wrist-“dear, dear-that doesn’t look well at all.”

The halfling swatted her hand away. “You shut your rutting mouth!”

“So.” Eden eyed Toytere, as did Kalen, pointedly.

The halfling saw their scrutiny and reined in his emotions. “What I be meaning,” he said. “You be showing some respect, me Lady Coin, for them’s what died a terrible death.”

“Granted,” she said, turning and moving back to Kalen. “I’ve prayed the Lady for a cure for this malady, but none has appeared. The only end I know for the Fury is death.” Toytere clutched at his arm. For the first time, Kalen noticed a soaked bandage under the halfling’s sleeve. He felt cold inside.

“No doubt the Lady will provide,” Eden said, looking back at Toytere. “Her blessing is sharp, like a knife upon a whetstone. It prepares us for the violence to come.”

The halfling lost most of the color from his face. Had Kalen entertained any doubt, he knew now that Toytere had the Fury or at least believed he did. Kalen could believe it as well. The way the halfling had acted before-his outbursts and impatience … all of it fit Eden’s words exactly. Did she speak truly or was she merely trying to frighten them?

Eden gazed at him levelly. “Were I you,” she said, “I would get whatever you came to Luskan to find”-she smiled slightly-“and leave.”

That, Kalen thought, was as wonderful idea.

He turned, but she caught his face between her hands, studying him. “You look well, my handsome brother,” she said. “Aye, that’s the face of the Silverymoon seducer who raped my mother, right enough.”

Kalen wanted to protest, but the words caught in his throat. “Sister-”

“Barely,” she said. “Though I’m glad you’ve kept your face, Kalen.” She pressed her cheek against his. “Shame about the parley, else I’d gladly tear it off for you.”

Kalen shivered.

Eden pushed him away dismissively and wiped her hands. “See them out,” she said to her guards. “Gently, if you will.”

When they were almost to the door, she held up a hand. “Hold,” she said. “Pray, what did Umbra say exactly. The words he used?”

“He spoke of a turncoat priest,” Kalen said. “ ‘The turncloak is the one who knows all.’ I assumed that was you.” He scrutinized her carefully, but she hid her reaction well. She’d always been a far better liar than he. Had this whole visit been a waste of time?

No, Eden had conveyed something of value-a threat. One that awakened him to what had to be done next. He had to get Myrin out of here.

“Farewell Brother,” Eden said. “Get out of my city and don’t return.”

“That,” Kalen said, “I can promise.”

Eden had very much enjoyed that exchange.

It amused her to witness the confused look on Kalen’s handsome but stupid face. As well, she always enjoyed watching the halfling sweat. She realized why he had come in the first place-to keep her from slipping word of his impending betrayal.

“Oh yes, sweetling,” she murmured. “That game ends soon.”

Her other attendants looked at her quizzically-talking to herself was not something Eden did often. She dismissed them with a look.

After they were gone, she refilled her brandy-made it a double-and chuckled.

Since that first night she’d seen Kalen sneaking into the city, she’d wondered why he’d come back. It all made its own sort of sense, now that she’d seen the answers written across Kalen’s face with her own eye. The girl had called him and he would protect her with his very life if need be. How better to get him out of the city than suggesting that inescapable danger came toward her-a plague he could neither prevent nor cure?

Good-bye, brother, she thought.

“Now,” she said. “If only I could find the Horned One …”

“Sweetling, you’ve but to ask.”

The voice came so suddenly that she lost her balance on the edge of the divan. She caught at the sideboard, missed, and fell haphazardly to the floor. Her twisted leg roared in protest, but the pain vanished into the frenzied beat of her heart.

“Y-you,” she said.

“Me.”

The Horned One was a tanned sun elf, tall and slim of stature, with eyes like burnished gold coins. He dressed head to foot in the garb of a dandy. Bright colors stole her eyes away from the comparative drabness of Luskan. From his brow curled a graceful rack of antlers-a sign of favor from the Lady of Misfortune.

“Interesting that you have that,” he said, gesturing to the platinum coin in her eye socket. “Quite the device. But do you have any power of your own, I wonder?”

“I–I know who you are,” she said.

“So do I,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk.

She could not rise above one knee-his majesty compelled her. He was, after all, the high priest of her faith.

“Chosen of the Lady,” she said, touching the false eye that was her holy symbol.

“Stay a moment-Chosen? Oh nay, nay, that reaches much too far.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, the bowing and scraping would just be tiresome. Rise, lass, or you’ll set me all aflutter.”

He reached down and took her by the shoulders. Though his body did not show it, his arms held great strength and he lifted her to her feet easily.

“There now,” he said. “As to why I’m here, I’ve come before you, unglamored and undisguised, because you