Through it, he saw the same stable in which they sat, but it was even shabbier. Through the open stable door, he saw a city in ruins.
“There we are,” Myrin said. “Ready?”
Rhett looked back toward the stable’s door in his own world, hesitating. “Maybe I should stay,” he said. “He needs me.”
“I know the feeling.” Myrin laid a comforting hand on his.
He sighed. “Is it always this hard?”
“With Kalen?
He shivered, but perhaps that was only the cold of the shadow door.
“Right,” he said, clutching her hand tight.
They stepped through and were gone from Luskan, into another world entirely.
On the roof of the Drowned Rat, Kalen saw the last flickers of Myrin’s magic whisk her and Rhett away from the city. Part of him was pleased-at least his purpose in coming had been met. Part of him, however, felt like it was being torn away.
He felt that he was not alone and nodded. “Have you come to finish what you started?”
“No purpose.” Sithe slid out of the night to stand beside him. “Toytere is dead. You are my new master.”
“Not Shar?” Kalen asked.
“My goddess stands behind me,” Sithe said. “She does not guide my path.”
Kalen nodded. He could understand that.
“She is gone,” Sithe said. “The wizard.”
Kalen nodded. He felt Myrin’s absence like a severed limb-a tingling nothingness that he could not set aside. “You think I’m wrong in sending her away.”
“Casting aside your most powerful asset, when you need her most?” Sithe shrugged. “I think you fear to tell her the truth more than you fear to endanger her.”
“You say that as though I give a good godsdamn what you think.”
Sithe nodded, as though pleased with that answer.
“Myrin told me something, before she left.” Kalen pulled open the pack at his feet. “ ‘So much, and all for nothing.’ And somehow, you know what she meant.”
“I know something of nothing.” Sithe touched the axe lashed across her shoulder. “But I do not think you want to talk.”
“No.”
Sithe looked at him a long moment. Then, without a word, she drew one arm out of her cloak. “Hold out your arm,” she said.
Kalen did as she asked. Sithe drew off one of her vambraces only to slide it onto Kalen’s arm. At her nod, he presented the other and she girded that one in turn.
“Not armor, but the blessings of power,” she said. “You have earned them.”
Kalen nodded. He felt the wrathful might in the vambraces fueling his arms.
“The storm will begin with first light,” Kalen said. “Whatever has brought this plague-this Fury-to Luskan, it thrives on chaos. It delights in seeing us divided, stealing around nervously, never knowing where and when it might strike.”
“You mean to change this,” Sithe said. It was not a question.
“Where there is order, chaos will starve.”
“Why?” Sithe asked. “Why not go with her? You have no love for this city.” Kalen stretched out his hand and laid his fingers on the object on top of the pack.
“Because I am not a man who can stand by and do nothing,” he said. “Because darkness and shadow must be pursued down every path, no matter how dark.”
“No matter how dark,” Sithe said.
Kalen nodded.
“You said earlier,” he whispered, “that you wanted to meet me.”
“Shadowbane.” Sithe nodded, a gesture almost imperceptible in the darkness.
He raised his prize from the pack-a tarnished helm with slits for eyes.
“Here I stand.”
He donned his helm.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
27 KYTHORN (HIGHSUN)
'Oi!” the nympher said, clasping the blanket to her otherwise bare body. “Ya gives that back now, ya hear!”
The mark-Vel Lightfinger, a lowly member of the Bloodboots-clutched his gang-issued footware to his chest and ran down the creaky steps from her window. The damned nympher had lured him in like a first-day fool. And while he’d managed to stab her backup thug for good and all, the crazy woman had plucked up a morningstar from out of nowhere with the express purpose of bashing out his brains.
He jumped the last eight feet, then shoved on his boots with a hopping gait. Getting nails, splinters, or glass in his bare feet where they could fester would be just as bad as having his brains bashed out.
“Tluin you, little blade!” the woman cried from above. She seized a brick and sent it sailing at his head. He barely dodged.
“Tluin you right back, an’ twice bloody!” he shouted.
Four of his fellow Bloodboots sat waiting in the alley below. They laughed as he limped up, still securing his breeches.
Luskan was sour today. The market stood mostly empty as folk hid from the plague. To Vel and his lads, the Fury was a myth and nothing to fear. They’d gone out that night, looking for fun and they’d found it: a mugging here, some senseless violence there, and a whole bottle of wine some poor sot had “misplaced” that evening. Drunk, Vel had spent his copper on the damned nympher, despite his friends’ protests. Now he’d got what was due.
“We’ll get that hrasting nympher,” he said. “Jab me blade so far up her-” He trailed off when he saw their eyes look past his shoulder. “What?”
A man stood before them, wrapped in a tattered gray cloak and stitched leather armor. Gleaming from his behind the faceplate of his reinforced helm, his cold white eyes-seemingly without color of their own-offered the grim promise of pain to come.
“Go back to your tavern,” he said. “Shadowbane’s streets are closed.”
“Shadowbane?” Vel spat. “Hrast that! Get him, boyos!”
The five Bloodboots drew their various blades and clubs.
Shadowbane swept his arms wide and two long daggers bristled from his fists. Had they seen his lips behind the helm, they might have seen him smile.
Corr, one of Vel’s friends, stepped past. “Don’t know who you’re pushin’, you-!”
Shadowbane took him down in three quick moves. One side step to dodge Corr’s lunge, a knee to the groin, and a dagger pommel to the chin. Corr was on his back.
“Kill that crazy tluiner!” shouted the half-elf Callused Nai. “Kill him!”
He’d taken down one easily enough-now it was three: quickblade Devis, the half-elf Nai, and the extremely stupid half-orc they called Duns the Dull. Vel hung back, still tying his belt. This proved fortuitous for Vel.
Shadowbane lunged to one side and let Devis stumble past. He dived into Nai, who came second, and sent him staggering. Duns raised his weapon, but a fast kick caved in the side of the half-orc’s knee and the spiked club swung wide. Shadowbane rose and clapped his dagger pommels over Duns’s ears. Head crushed between Shadowbane’s weapons, the half-orc toppled senseless to the ground.
