The ladies went back to bickering sharply, throwing turns of phrase that would have made the best broadsheet satirists applaud.
Kalen turned his eyes on Myrin at the table, who blushed down at her hands in her lap. She was a buoy of genrle calm in a sea of dueling, querulous words. She saw Kalen looking at her and blinked. Then she smiled gently-demurely-and went back to looking embarrassed.
Finally, head spinning and aching, Kalen closed his eyes and pointed. 'I'll go with her.'
Cellica and Fayne looked at him, then at his finger.
'You're taking her?' Fayne asked, eyes dangerous. 'The blue-haired waif?'
Kalen pointed at Myrin. The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Cellica grinned widely.
'How sweet! Myrin could use a gown-gods know she can't go on wearing Kalen's things all her days.' She sneered at Fayne. 'I'm sure we can dress her better than this ogre.'
Ignoring that, Fayne rounded on Kalen. 'Why is she wearing your clothes?'
'Better than, you wearing them,' said Cellica. 'Though they might fit you, she-whale.'
Fayne blushed so fiercely that her face matched her hair. 'Whar?' She investigated her backside. 'There's not a drop of blubber there. Unlike certain halflings-'
As they fell to bickering again, Kalen looked at Myrin. Her mouth drooped in a lonely frown and her eyes were cast toward her hands, which were bunched into fists on the table. Kalen watched as she clenched her fists harder and harder.
A splotch of blue appeared on her wrist, then branched into lines of tiny runes-like a sprouting vine of ivy-that spread up her arm.
'Just because I'm not the perfect height for-cub!' Fayne's words ended in a cough.
Grasping her throat, Fayne burbled a cry and slumped, hands clutching her head. She would have fallen, but Kalen caught her. Her hands tightened into claws on Kalen's bare chest.
'What's happening?' Cellica cried, terrified.
Fayne was looking around wildly, a look of sheer rage on her face. She murmured words in a language Kalen did not know and clutched at her forehead as though to smother a fire inside.
Kalen looked to Myrin, who sat at the table staring vacantly at the reeling Fayne. Her skin had sprouted an entire lattice of blue runes growing across her shoulder and down her arm. Her eyes glowed like stars.
Flames leaked from Fayne's hand-dark magic. Her eyes scanned the room as though searching for a foe. Kalen realized she was staring righr at Myrin but didn't seem able to see her.
Yet.
'Stop!' Kalen snapped.
Myrin jumped, fell out of her chair, and scrambled against the wall. 'Uh?'
Fayne moaned and slumped against Kalen, panting. The agony slipped away from her face, but her anger burned all the brighter. She glared, still seemingly unable to see Myrin.
The hate in her eyes shivered Kalen to his core.
Cellica's eyes darted back and forth between Kalen and Myrin. She seemed not to notice Myrin's eyes or runes-the girl's eyes had been locked on the half-elf. 'What was that?'
'Damn,' Fayne murmured, touching her head as rhough it were tender. 'Damn me for good and all.' She shook her head and looked to the table, where she finally was able to see Myrin. Her lips curled like those of an angry canine, and Kalen half expected to see fangs. But no, her teeth were quite normal.
'Wait,' Kalen whispered to Fayne.
She looked up at him, gray eyes slowly draining of rage-and replaced by wariness. 'Aye?'
Kalen fell into communion with his threefold god, fingers curling around his gauntlet-etched ring. His hands glowed, attracting Myrin's and Cellica's awed gazes. Healing power flowed inro Fayne, easing her breathing.
She closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against his hand. 'Oh, Shadow,' she said.
'Kalen,' he corrected.
'Hrmm.' Fayne moved away-a little wobbly, but that might have been feigned. 'If you're taking blue-hair girl, then I'll just have to wait until next time, won't I?'
She winked at Kalen in a way that assured him there would indeed be a next time.
'You don't-you don't have to,' Cellica said. 'Let me look at you. I've a healer's-'
'No need!' Fayne gave Cellica a winning smile and bent to kiss her on the forehead. 'I'll be just fine.' She tossed a glare at Myrin. 'Just fine.'
The half-elf left.
Kalen glanced at Cellica and Myrin. The halfling stood, pale faced, near the door, staring after Fayne. At the table, Myrin looked terrified. Blue runes adorned the left side of her face.
Kalen sighed. 'I'll see her home,' he said. 'Wherever home is.'
He grabbed his spare uniform, the black coat of leather and plate with its two gauntlets of rank. Heedless of whether they watched, he pulled off his hose and dressed.
With an eep! Myrin blushed and looked away.
Cellica looked hard at Kalen. 'Do you know where?' she asked.
Kalen shrugged.
'So you really don't know her, eh?' the halfling said brightly. Kalen laced up his breeches and shrugged on the harness straps. 'You
… you're still taking Myrin to the revel on the morrow?' Kalen shrugged. It hardly seemed relevant. 'Well, then,' Cellica said. She smiled.
Myrin pressed her back against the wall and slid down, trembling and hot in the face. What had she done?
She stared at her hands and her heart leaped. Little blue marks showed vividly against her left palm. She rubbed at them, as one might dirt smudges, but they didn't come off. She pulled up the sleeve of the old tunic, breathing hard. She found more marks traveling up her arm. She scratched hard at her skin, trying desperately to get rid of them, but she drew blood.
She touched her cheek, which tingled. In the small mirror across the room, she saw a vine of blue runes running along her throat and up her face. She sat, rigid in horror, and tried vainly to stay calm. The marks were moving-shrinking.
Soon, they faded entirely, and she could breathe again.
Fayne had gone, she realized, and Kalen-fully dressed and about to follow-was sraring at her. His icy eyes glittered balefully. When Myrin opened her mouth, nothing came out. Wordlessly, Kalen srrode into the corridor and banged the door shut.
Myrin looked down at her hands. Tears welled in her eyes. 'Don't mind him.' Cellica appeared at her side, smiling. 'He's just a glowering bastard.' 'Really?' Myrin sniffed.
'Yes,' she said. 'I know what will make you feel better.' Her eyes twinkled. 'Dresses!'
SEVENTEEN
flThen she realized Kalen wasn't in the Room of Records either, If Araezra slammed her fist on the table. Pain flared and she kissed her wrist to lessen it.
Damn that Kalen-where the Hells was he? He wasn't at home, and he wasn't anywhere at the barracks. This, the Room of Records, was his favorite place-it was peaceful and quiet, and he could read. Where could he be?
And who the Hells was that girl? Wearing his tunic, with hair like that? Had he brought a ^irl home from the Smiling Siren?
She felt sick. Everything was going wrong that day-everything. Except for Jarthay being so kind, she'd have sworn this was still a nightmare. The commander being sensitive made it seem more a fever dream.
Who was that girl? Gods, had Kalen fallen in love with someone else? Gods!
In her anger, Araezra hadn't noticed the door quierly opening or anyone entering. Only as she sat there, willing herself not to cry, did gooseflesh rise on her arms. She realized she was no longer alone. 'Who's there?' she
