Shadowbane

the Drowned Rat.

“What was that all about?” Rhett asked.

Kalen shook his head, but he knew very well. For Myrin, seeing him put Toytere out of his misery had been a stark reminder of Waterdeep and Rath-the old, vengeful Shadowbane. They’d shared something deep in the void, but he’d pushed her away. He did not blame her for being so upset. What had she meant-all for nothing?

Rhett remained, watching Kalen silently. He was waiting for an answer.

“You need to go with her,” Kalen said. “I have unfinished business here, and if I have to worry about either of you, then I cannot do what must be done. Whatever comes to pass in Luskan, she is not a part of it and neither are you.”

Neither, he thought, is this going to be the place for you. Not after tomorrow.

Rhett did not budge.

“Am I unclear?” he asked. “I need you to go with Myrin. Protect her.”

“Oh, I understand. Saer.” Rhett glared at him.

“If you’ve something to say”-Kalen crossed his arms, resting his hands near the hilts of his daggers-“then say it.”

Rhett met the challenge, his hand on Vindicator’s hilt at his belt. “Tell me this isn’t about her,” he said. “Just-tell me that.”

Kalen shook his head. “Of course this is about her.”

Rhett stiffened, then looked at the ground. “I’m sorry, Kalen.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he said. “I want you to be wary.”

“No. I mean-” Rhett met his gaze once more, fire in his eyes. “The reason you’re sending me away-it isn’t about her. Myrin doesn’t need my protection any more than she needs yours. You’re sending me away because of me.”

Kalen paused a breath-too long. “I’m not worried about you.”

“Oh?” Rhett said. “Then what happened to Vaelis?”

Kalen gave no answer.

“He was your apprentice, right?” Rhett raised his chin. “Before all went to the Nine Hells, Valabrar Hondyl said, ‘what happened to Vaelis was not your fault.’ So.” Rhett raised his chin. “What happened to Vaelis?”

Turning back, Kalen stared at Rhett, but the boy didn’t seem about to back down. Lightning flashed, and Kalen put his hands on his dagger hilts. “Draw,” he said.

“What?” Rhett tightened his grip on Vindicator. “For true?”

“Draw.” Kalen stepped forward. “I’ll show you what happened to Vaelis.”

The boy cast a glance back toward Myrin, but she had disappeared. The two of them were alone in the yard. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Rhett said.

“Too late for that.” Kalen drew his blades and broke into a quick step.

Rhett drew Vindicator with a warning cry.

The sword flashed in the night and Kalen caught it on his two blades. He twisted one blade over Vindicator, trapping it between the hilts of his daggers. The fiery blade, secured between the two men, hung just below their eyes.

“Now look,” Kalen said. “Not at me-at the blade. Look closely.”

Rhett did. Then his eyes widened. “Gods.”

Kalen knew what had prompted this reaction-the long black crack that ran through Vindicator’s otherwise smooth steel. A flaw and a failure.

“Vaelis was my apprentice-a poor broadcryer from the streets of Waterdeep.” Kalen eased his daggers away from Vindicator, loosing his hold on the blade. “I took him to apprentice a year ago, right after Myrin left. I thought I could train him to take my place. Then I could follow her. But no-I did not train him well enough.”

“Oh.” Rhett bowed his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“I swore an oath I would take no other squire,” Kalen said. “That I would bear Vindicator until the day I fell, even if I was no longer worthy of it. The sword, however, keeps its own council.” He met Rhett’s eyes. “It is yours now.”

“Mine?” The youth looked stunned. “But-but you haven’t trained me.”

“No,” Kalen said. “Gedrin did not train me, yet I am his legacy. Now it falls to you.” He touched Rhett’s hand on Vindicator’s hilt. “Carry the sword well and honor it. Do not try to run from it, as I did. Swear it.”

“I so swear. But-” Rhett flinched back when Kalen struck him hard across the face with the butt of his dagger. “Ow! What the Nine Hells?”

“So you remember your oath,” Kalen said. “Seek out Levia in Westgate. She trained me in the ways of the Eye of Justice. She’ll train you.”

“Westgate, right,” Rhett said. “But in the story Myrin told me, Gedrin gave you the sword shortly before he-” His face went pale. “You don’t mean to survive what’s coming.”

“Someone must continue the quest, even if it is endless.” Kalen put his hand on Rhett’s shoulder. “I’ll do what I must here. If Tymora smiles, we will meet again.”

“Right.” Rhett gave him a bright, hopeful look. ““Farewell, master. Even if you would not teach me, I did learn much from you.”

Kalen smiled wanly.

Rhett gave him a smart salute and took his leave.

Myrin waited in what must have been the Drowned Rat’s stables back when horses served a purpose in Luskan other than food. Now, the area was a storage shed where the Dead Rats crammed broken pottery, blunted weapons, and scraps of leather-all sorts of useless bits the man-rodents couldn’t bring themselves to throw out.

She sat in the middle of the room, her hands gripping the tome spread open on her lap. Rhett heard her first, rather than saw her. He recognized the sniffling she made all too well. Tears gleamed on her cheeks with a blue light all their own.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not at all.” Myrin wiped her eyes and turned a page. “I’m almost ready.”

“Almost ready for what?”

“To cast this.” She indicated a spell in her book. “I saw it in one of Umbra’s memories and I wrote it down.”

“You remember how to cast it?”

“More or less.”

“What does that mean?” Rhett asked. “More or less-as in, ‘this will take a few tries’ or as in ‘O gods, we’re all going to die’?”

Myrin gave him a look that indicated she was having none of his humor just at the moment. “Sorry,” he said. Then, more seriously: “What do we do now? Do we just pretend what happened between us-that kiss-didn’t happen?”

“I don’t know,” she said without looking at him. “Do you want to do it again?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhett said. “You clearly want Saer Shadowbane, not-”

“What I want is for people to stop telling me what I want.” Myrin murmured an arcane phrase and dark magic flowed around her, sending a chill through the dusty air.

“What sort of spell is this?” Rhett asked.

“It opens a door to the shadow world,” Myrin said. “Distances are different there. A tenday’s journey might take only a day-walking. I estimate four days to Westgate … or five. Assuming, of course, we don’t get eaten by shadow beasts.”

Rhett shivered, as much at Myrin’s casual assessment as at the way her eyes seemed black in the light of her magic.

Lines of darkness traced themselves across the floor, arcing around Myrin to form a great black rune beneath her. Shadows rose and coalesced into the outline of a dark portal like a mirror that shimmered in the air.