That was when he saw them. They glittered on the hard ground, outlined in white crystals of frost. Footprints. Kellen's heart skipped a beat. He took in a deep breath of air-air no longer just cool, but sharp and cold, like steel in the dead of winter. Slowly, he followed the trail of shimmering footprints with his eyes. The ghost stood on the edge of the Tor. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the man's translucent body. He seemed to waver in and out of existence-now dim, now bright-like the flickering light of a dying candle. The man was clad in peculiar, ancient clothes, at once more flowing and more angular than modern attire. Although he wasn't certain how, he realized who the spirit was. His father had encountered this same shade once before, though that had been far from here, in the desolate land known as the Fields of the Dead. Kellen's breath fogged on the frigid air as he whispered the words. 'Talek Talembar.'
The ghost gazed at Kellen with eyes like emeralds, then stretched out his arms in a plaintive, urgent gesture. The spirit's voice blended eerily with the low moan of the wind.
'The old king hath fallen… and a new king doth rise to take his place…'
As the last sliver of the sun slipped below the far horizon, the ghost vanished, leaving Kellen to shiver alone in the gathering gloom of the garden.
Two
Mari Al'maren sat in the common room of the Dreaming Dragon, waiting. Through a window, she watched as the black night sky softened to slate blue, then pearl gray, and at last blazed into scarlet brilliance. She had been up all night. Finally she heard the sounds she had been waiting for outside the inn's door: the grating of a boot heel on stone, the rattling of an iron key in the lock, the creak of hinges the door swung open. A tall figure wrapped in a tattered midnight blue cloak stepped into the common room. Surprise registered in his faded green eyes. 'You're up early' Caledan said cheerfully. 'No,' Mari countered crisply. I'm up late.' It took a moment for the implication of her words to register on his angular visage His grin faded. 'How about if I told you that I went out for a midnight constitutional and lost track of the time?'
Mari gazed at him steadily. 'You can give it a try, but don't get your hopes up. I'd really hate for you to be disappointed.'
Caledan winced. 'I was afraid of that.' He shrugged off his ragged cloak. Beneath, he wore the old travel- stained black leathers he preferred for night work.
Mari stood, taking a half dozen paces toward the stairs before turning to regard him. 'All right, Caledan. Where have you been all night? You can tell me now, or if you'd rather, we can scream at each other first. But either way. you are going to tell me.'
Caledan opted to cooperate directly. 'I went to the Barbed Hook,' he said. 'It's a tavern down in the New City, on the waterfront.'
'I've heard of the place,' she said coolly, crossing her arms. 'The clientele consists of brawling sailors, besotted dockhands, one-handed cutpurses, and a generous sprinkling of harlots. A little too high class for you, don't you think?'
Caledan grimaced. 'I'll be generous and ignore that. Do you remember the spy we discovered in the High Tower?'
'A man dancing around trying to pull a dagger out of his back before he drops dead is a curiously memorable image.'
He pretended not to hear the sarcasm in her voice. 'I did a little investigating and found out that our spy had been seen down at the Barbed Hook, so I decided to scout things out. Guess what? I noticed a few of our friend's cohorts disappearing down a hidden passage into a back storeroom. One of them bore ritual scars on his cheekbones. There's no question about it. They were definitely Zhentarim.'
Mari arched an eyebrow. She had a sinking feeling. 'Were Zhentarim?'
'You can stop worrying,' Caledan snapped in annoyance.
'I didn't harm a hair on their evil little heads. Not that I wouldn't have liked to. Whatever you may think, I'm not so impulsive I'd follow three Zhentarim into their hideout without someone to back me up.' He shook his head in frustration. 'But I still can't understand this overwhelming desire of yours to sit and have a pleasant chat with every member of the Black Network we turn up. That's exactly why I left-'
Caledan halted, swallowing his words. Mari finished for him. 'That's exactly why you left me behind last night. Is that what you were going to say?' He stared at her sulkily. Mari felt her wrath building. He had gone too far this time.
'How dare you?' Her voice was low and even, but there was scorching fire in it. 'How dare you sneak behind my back, like some cowardly adulterous husband, just so you can indulge your childish impulses? In case you've forgotten, Caledan Caldorien, you are not the only Harper in Iriaebor.'
Anger flared in his eyes. 'Well, maybe I should be. After all this time, you still don't have the faintest idea how evil the Zhentarim are, do you, Mari? There's only one thing worth doing with a member of the Black Network-and that involves a good sharp blade, not polite questions.' His voice rose dangerously. 'And by the way, I am not your husband.'
'Believe me, I'm aware of that fact,' Mari replied caustically. All in a rush, harsh words she had been saving up for months poured out of her. 'I just don't understand, Caledan. You never would have behaved this rashly a year ago. I'm not sure exactly what is going on, but you… you've gotten careless-no, not careless, but reckless.
You don't give a damn about anything or anyone these days, least of all yourself.' She was shouting now. The noise would wake everyone up, but she didn't care.
'You've changed, and I'm not certain I even know who you are anymore, Caledan Caldorien!'
'Maybe you never did,' he snarled, clenching a fist in rage. 'Maybe you don't have the faintest idea, Mari Al'maren!'
It happened so fast that, afterward, Mari was never certain what really happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caledan's shadow expand on the wall, growing to monstrous proportions. Like a black serpent, the shadow lashed out an arm, striking at her own shadow. A searing line of fire raced across her cheek. She screamed, reeling backward, falling to her knees. Dazed, she lifted a hand to her cheek. It came away wet with blood.
Suddenly, Caledan was there, kneeling beside her. 'By the gods-Mari, are you all right?' His voice was desperate.
'Mari, talk to me!' He gripped her shoulders with big hands.
She shrank away from him, casting a furtive glance at the wall. Now their shadows were mundane silhouettes, nothing more. Gradually, she let herself relax into his strong embrace. 'I'm all right,' she gasped. 'It's a scratch, that's all.'
'But how did…?'
Mari thought of the way his shadow had moved… or had it? She had been angry and distracted. Caledan could make the shadows dance on the wall-that was the nature of his shadow magic-but the shadows he controlled did not have physical substance or the ability to harm. Maybe in her rage she had imagined it. She could have scratched her cheek when she fell in her attempt to back away from him. She realized that her anger had receded, whatever the explanation for her injury. All she felt now was a great weariness.
'Forget it, Caledan.' She took a deep breath. 'It's nothing. Really.'
Mari pulled herself to her feet. She drew a handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her cheek; already the flow of blood had stopped. There were more pressing matters to concern her now. She took her wine-colored cloak from its hook and opened the door.
Quickly, Caledan stood. 'Where are you going?' he asked in confusion.
'The Barbed Hook. It might have slipped your mind, but we still have a mission to complete.' She gave him a wan smile. 'So are you coming or not, Harper?'
His wolfish visage was unreadable. At last he nodded. 'Lead the way.'
The narrow crag upon which Iriaebor's Old City was built soared a full three hundred feet above the
