Crypt of the Shadowking

by Mark Anthony

  “Listen,” Caledan said, anger suddenly flaring in his chest. “I’m sorry that I’m not the storybook knight you were expecting, but let me set one thing straight. I am not a Harper anymore. Nor do I wish to have dealings with them. When I left the order seven years ago, it was final. Is that understood?”

  “Really?” she asked archly. “If you cared so little, why didn’t you simply leave me there in the alley, Caldorien? It would have saved you some trouble.”

  “Gods, woman. I saved your life, and all you can do is mock me for it?”

  She lifted her square chin defiantly. “For that I thank you,” she said stiffly, “but from now on you needn’t concern yourself about me. Next time you may be the one who needs rescuing.”

  “Is that so?” Caledan sneered. “Well, maybe you wouldn’t find yourself on the wrong end of a wizard’s magic if you tried to be a little less conspicuous. Didn’t the Harpers have the sense to teach you to keep that blasted sigil under cover? Or did you think that if you wore it in plain view all the Zhentarim agents would simply flee in terror? Who is your prime master, anyway?”

  Mari’s eyes smoldered, but she did not flinch beneath his harsh words. “Belhuar Thantarth, Master of Twilight Hall, gave me this mission.”

  Caledan grunted. He remembered Thantarth. Seven years ago Thantarth had been a journeyman Harper, but even then he had the kind of ambition and staunch—if overly idealistic—values the Harpers treasured so much. No wonder Thantarth had risen to the highest seat in Twilight Hall in the city of Berdusk, to the west of Iriaebor. It didn’t surprise Caledan that Mari had been sent by Twilight Hall. That bunch believed in giving their new agents a trial by fire. The Harpers of Shadowdale were a more impromptu and secretive lot. They would never have let someone as green as Al’maren journey alone to a city crawling with Zhentarim.

  “Let me guess,” Caledan said flatly. “This is your first mission.” Mari said nothing, her hands clenched into fists. Both of them knew he was right. “You know,” Caledan went on a bit smugly, “you still haven’t told me why you were searching for me in the first place.”

  The Harper looked away, gazing out a window into the morning light. On the plains below the Tor sprawled the New City like the shining but deadly web of some vast spider. “It’s simple enough,” she explained, turning to regard Caledan once more. “You don’t think that the Harpers would simply stand by idly while the Zhentarim enslaved the richest trade city between the Sword Coast and the Moonsea, do you?”

  “No, I suppose that would be too much for a bunch of meddlers like the Harpers.” Caledan laughed grimly.

  Mari shot him a fiery look. “These ‘meddlers,’ as you call them, are all that stand between the Zhentarim and the Realms. If not for the Harpers, the Black Network would not stop until it ruled every land. Would you be a slave to the Zhentarim, Caldorien?”

  He had no reply to that.

  “Anyway,” Mari went on, “the Harpers sent me here to spy on Lord Cutter—that is, Lord Ravendas—and the Zhentarim. We need to learn how their operations work here, discover what their weaknesses are, and devise a way to help the people of Iriaebor drive them from the city. At the same time, I was supposed to search for the legendary Caledan Caldorien, even though he had not been heard from in seven years.” She eyed his frayed and road-worn clothes disapprovingly. “But it seems I’ve failed in that part of the mission.”

  “Why? You found me, didn’t you?”

  “Really?” Mari scoffed. “I was searching for a Harper, Caldorien. What I found was a worn-out drifter who doesn’t seem to care about anything, least of all himself.”

  Caledan winced. That one hurt, especially because it came dangerously near the truth.

  “I don’t know the reason you left the Harpers, Caldorien, and now I find that I don’t particularly care. I thank you for your assistance yesterday, but I won’t bother you again.” She shrugged off the quilt and rose stiffly.

  “Sit down, Harper.”

  “What?”

  “I said sit down,” Caledan growled fiercely, and in her surprise Mari complied, sinking back down into the chair. “Maybe you don’t want my help anymore,” he went on, “and I don’t want yours, either. But there is something you should know. Lord Ravendas and I have … encountered each other in the past.” He laughed darkly. “This was during my last mission as a Harper. It was not a pleasant meeting. Someone … a friend of mine … died that day. But I think I always knew that someday I would face Ravendas again. Now it seems that the time has come, and the meeting is destined to be here.”

  He stared fiercely at the Harper, as if daring her to question his resolve. “I had the chance to be happy once, you know. Ravendas stole that from me. I won’t let her do it a second time.”

  Mari regarded him carefully for a long moment, her expression guarded. “So you will work with me then, Caledan Caldorien?” she asked finally.

  He let out a twisted laugh. “Oh, no, Harper. You’re going to be working with me.”

  * * * * *

  The crescent moon was just rising over the city’s spires when Caledan and Mari slipped out a side door of the Dreaming Dragon and into the walled garden Estah kept behind the inn. Caledan searched along the high stone wall until he found what he was looking for—a small wrought-iron gate overgrown with morning glories. The secret portal led into a narrow alleyway behind the inn.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, Caldorien?” Mari asked as they made their way down the shadowed alley. “Or is this supposed to be some sort of surprise?”

  Caledan grimaced. Why did the Harper always have to make such an issue out of everything? “We’re going to see an old acquaintance of mine. His name is Cormik. In fact, I was on my way to pay him a visit when I had the misfortune to cross paths with you.”

  The alley opened onto a larger avenue. Making certain no guards were about, the two headed on foot deeper into the heart of the Old City. The streets were deserted. It was the hour for thieves and murderers. And Harpers and scoundrels, Caledan thought wryly.

  “And what does this Cormik do?” Mari asked softly.

  “You might call him an entrepreneur,” Caledan whispered back. “Then again, you might call him a greedy, self-centered, crooked-hearted swindler.” He laughed quietly. “It just depends on how much you like him … and on whether he likes you.”

  “Sounds enchanting,” Mari muttered. “So how many daggers are we going to get stuck in our backs?”

  “You worry too much, Harper. Cormik and I have been friends for years. If you really want to learn something about the Zhentarim operations in the city, there’s no one better to talk to. If Cormik doesn’t know about it, it isn’t happening.” If he’s still alive, that is, Caledan added to himself. Cormik’s line of business was not without its risks.

  Mari shot him a skeptical look but said nothing the rest of the way. Finally they turned onto the murky, refuse-lined Street of Lanterns. They halted before a dark storefront. The building looked as though it had been abandoned for years, but Caledan knew better. The place was a discreet gambling establishment called the Prince and Pauper.

  “Just follow my lead,” Caledan said jauntily. Before she could reply, he opened the door and stepped through. Mari followed on his heels.

  Inside was a large room. The light of a few torches was mostly lost in the haze of smoke they gave off. The Prince and Pauper was crowded. It appeared this was one establishment that had lost little of its trade since Cutter had become lord of the city. True to the place’s name, nobles in fine but threadbare clothes, opulently attired merchants, and every manner of rabble crowded about the gambling tables, shouting, laughing, or crying as best suited their luck.

  Caledan ignored the gamblers. He spotted a heavy velvet curtain in the back wall and began wending his way through the crowd toward it. Mari followed, a look of disapproval on her face. Caledan reached the curtain and flipped it back. He and the Harper stepped into the quiet hallway beyond.
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br />   “Stop right there,” a huge, bull-necked man clad in crimson leather rumbled. “I don’t know you two, do I?” He stood blocking the hallway with a companion who was similarly dressed and likewise massive. Both wore short swords at their hips, and there was no doubt that they knew quite well how to use them.

  “Name’s Caledan. I’m a friend of Cormik’s. And this here’s my lady, if you know what I mean.” Mari opened her mouth in protest, but Caledan elbowed her hard in the side. She threw him a venomous look but held her tongue.

  “A friend of the Master, eh?” The big man leered down at Caledan. “Well, you’d better hope to the gods that you are. Follow me.” The huge man led Caledan and Mari to a small but plush room.

  “The Master will see you when he has a minute,” he said with an unpleasant grin. “He’s a busy man, you know.” He left the room, shutting the small door behind him. Caledan didn’t have to try the latch to know that it was locked.

  Mari crossed her arms, pacing the small room in agitation. “Now what?” she demanded.

  “Just wait, Harper. Just wait.”

  Scant minutes later a key rattled in the lock, and the door opened. A man, who might have appeared nondescript if not for his ostentatious clothes and black velvet eye patch, stepped through, followed by the two muscular bodyguards. “Well, well,” the man said in an oily voice as he examined the prisoners with a critical eye. “So Jad was right. It truly is Caledan the Harper.”

  “Cormik,” Caledan said, smiling broadly. “I knew you’d remember me. I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Oh, I remember you quite well, Caledan,” Cormik replied. He approached slowly, moving, despite his large girth, with the predatory grace of a cat. “In fact, after that last time we met, I remember that I wanted you dead.”

  Caledan laughed, as if he had just heard a good joke. “I would have thought you had forgotten that little misunderstanding by now, Cormik.”

  Cormik returned the laughter. “What a curious notion, Caledan. Gentlemen.” He made a brief motion with his hand. Before either Caledan or Mari could move, each was grabbed by one of the bodyguards, and their arms were tightly pinned behind their backs. Both Caledan and Mari struggled, to no avail, while Cormik’s laughter filled the room.

  It appeared that they were prisoners.

  Four

  “I thought you said the man adored you.”

  Cormik’s hulking bodyguards had chained the two of them to a cold stone wall in a dim, squalid little chamber beneath the Prince and Pauper.

  “Everyone’s entitled to a few mistakes,” Caledan muttered. His hands were chained over his head; his shoulders were throbbing painfully. His joints were getting far too rusty for this kind of abuse, and his brain must be getting rusty as well. He should not have assumed that Cormik would have forgotten their little “misunderstanding” of seven years ago. The proprietor of the Prince and Pauper was well known to have a long, keen memory. One had to in his business.

  “So what did you do, scoundrel, that he still holds a grudge against you after all these years?”

  “I saved him from being murdered by one of his patrons, that’s what,” Caledan replied angrily. “A nobleman named Maderon owed Cormik a king’s ransom in gambling debts, and he was going to have Cormik killed rather than pay up. I did Cormik the favor of doing away with Maderon first, though I had my own reasons. All Cormik knew was that I had slit the throat of his richest patron. Cormik’s an intelligent man, but he has me figured all wrong.”

  “What do you think he’s going to do with us?” she asked.

  “Kill us,” Caledan replied flatly.

  They were interrupted by the sound of the lock once again being turned. The iron-banded door flew open, and Caledan squinted as brilliant, golden light flooded the small prison chamber. After a moment his eyes adjusted, and he saw Cormik standing before him wearing an unsavory grin. He was flanked by his two bodyguards, as well as by a lanky young man with black hair and eyes.

  “I trust my retainers treated you well in my absence?” Cormik asked.

  “But of course.” Caledan rattled his chains, smiling facetiously. “You’re too good to your guests, Cormik.”

  Cormik bowed his head in acknowledgment, his one eye glittering. “Nothing is too good for an old … friend.”

  Caledan took a deep breath. “Cormik, if you’d just let me explain—”

  “Silence!” the man snapped. The bodyguards took a step forward, hands on the hilts of their short swords. Cormik held up a neatly manicured, ring-covered hand. “No, I shall deal with him in my own manner.” The hand dropped casually down to the hilt of a stiletto at his belt. The knife was a delicate, beautifully crafted thing with pale opals set into the hilt. “You may leave me, gentlemen. Dario and I will attend to business here.” The two bodyguards lumbered out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

  “Cormik,” Caledan tried again, forcing an expansive smile, “if you would just give me a chance to tell my side of the story, I’m sure—”

  “Spare me your lies, Caledan. I haven’t the time, and frankly neither do you or your friend here.” He smoothly slipped the jeweled stiletto out of its sheath. “Be so good as to help me with this, Dario.”

  The dark-haired young man grasped Caledan’s shackled wrist firmly. Caledan’s eyes widened. Mari stared at the scene in horror.

  “Cormik, please. If you’d just—”

  “That’s the trouble with Harpers, Dario. They never stop talking, even when you desperately wish they would.” Cormik poised the blade inches from Caledan’s wrist. “That’s good, Dario, hold it steady.”

  Caledan clenched his jaw. He was determined not to beg. Then he watched in amazement as Cormik deftly turned the knife, pressing one of the polished opals. There was a small click, and a thin piece of metal popped out of the end of the hilt. It was a key.

  Caledan’s jaw went slack. He stared as the man he’d just thought was going to kill him removed the shackle instead. Quickly Cormik unlocked the rest of the chains, and in moments Caledan stood free, absently rubbing his sore wrists. Cormik released Mari next, chuckling. Then he slipped the dagger into his belt once again.

  “You old wolf, it’s good to see you,” Cormik exclaimed. He grasped Caledan’s hand firmly between his own beefy palms and squeezed it warmly.

  A smile slowly crept across Caledan’s face.

  Cormik’s eyes glittered. “Come drink a cup of wine with me while I explain.” His gaze turned to Mari, and a sly smile crept across his lips. “And perhaps you’ll introduce me to your charming companion.”

  A few minutes later found them in a richly appointed chamber hung with expensive Sembian tapestries. Cormik bade them sit down while Dario poured them each a goblet of deep red wine from a crystal decanter.

  Caledan swirled the ruby-colored liquid a bit suspiciously. “Nothing unpleasant at the bottom, I trust?”

  “Not unless my good Dario put it there. However, I may simply be an old fool, but I believe the lad’s loyal to me.”

  “One of his many delusions,” the young man said with such perfect seriousness that Caledan was almost taken aback. Then he saw the mischief dancing in the young man’s dark eyes.

  The wine proved to be cool and delicious, and Caledan took the liberty of refilling his goblet as Cormik talked.

  “I hope you’ll forgive my rude treatment,” he said, his attention directed more toward Mari than Caledan. “I’m afraid it was necessary to protect myself, and both of you as well. I couldn’t let it look as if I was consorting with Harpers. It’s a well-known fact that Cutter—or should I say Ravendas?—is not overly fond of Harpers. Except for dead ones, of course.”

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Mari said with an expression of disarming innocence, “but I’m not a—”

  “Don’t be coy, Harper Al’maren,” Cormik said with a low chuckle. “I’m afraid neither you nor Caledan has been terribly inconspicuous these past few days. I’ve intercepted reports concernin
g both of you that were bound for the city lord’s tower, and I’m certain Ravendas knows of your presence.”

  “I agree,” Caledan said grimly. “I had the misfortune of being too close to the Harper yesterday when a wizard, probably Zhentarim, loosed a trio of magical hounds after her. We came very close to being incinerated and eaten.”

  “Actually, Caledan,” Cormik said gravely, “I don’t think that attack was directed at Harper Al’maren.”

  A startled look crossed Mari’s face. Caledan frowned. “And what tells you that?”

  “This.” Cormik drew a piece of parchment out of a pocket of his voluminous embroidered silk tunic and laid it on the table. “It was posted down in the New City, in the free market, along with dozens of others like it. It’s a notice offering a reward for any information concerning your whereabouts, Caledan. And the reward is not an inconsiderable sum. Surely you didn’t think your duel with Cutter’s captain went unnoticed the other night.”

  Caledan grunted.

  Mari took the parchment and studied it carefully. She looked up and regarded Caledan with concerned eyes. “What would Ravendas want with you, Caledan? You’ve said it yourself. You’re not a Harper anymore, and no threat to her.”

  Caledan shook his head. “I can’t read her mind, Harper.”

  “Well,” Cormik went on, “I hope you can see that I was simply protecting myself by treating you openly like enemies. Since Cutter took over the city a year or so ago, mine is one of the few businesses that’s avoided any trouble. And it’s not because I’ve been pandering to Cutter or that new lord steward, ah, what’s his name?” Cormik looked to Dario, then snapped his fingers before the young man could answer. “Snake, that’s it. Odd name. Odd fellow. He gives me the chills just to look at him.”

  Cormik sipped his wine. “Luckily, that old ‘misunderstanding’ of ours was public enough that folks won’t think it odd if I still consider you an enemy, Caledan.”

  Caledan nodded. “But you’re not still angry over all that, are you, Cormik?”