Mickey Zucker Reichert

by The Legend of Nightfall

  Nightfall circled the dance hall, an oblong building with several rectangular wings that held the quarters of dancers, workers, and overseers. A few well-timed glimpses through windows led him to the performers’ area; he found it last of the four wings. The time used to avert the suspicions of passersby on the evening roads had dragged, and he guessed Kelryn’s session on stage had probably finished during his search. It bothered him that she might reach her quarters before him; he wanted to lie in wait. Yet, this would have to work as well. Quite likely, he would not have recognized her room anyway without her presence. Choosing wrongly would delay his mission and his return to his master.

  Nightfall discovered Kelryn’s voice first, the familiar alto lilting through a shuttered window. She chanted words to the tune of the dancing song, occasionally humming phrases she could not recall. He drifted to the correct room, only to find the window shuttered and the wood painted closed. Frustration gripped him. For a moment, he stood rooted, thwarted, annoyance adding to the fires of his rage. He could crash his way through the barrier but not without alerting Kelryn, and every neighbor, to the danger. Turning, he trotted back to the dance hall entrance.

  Once inside, he chose the left hallway. An enormous man in dance hall clothing stepped into his way. "Did you need something, sir?”

  Nightfall tipped the man six copper, generous enough to get his way without becoming too memorable. "One of the girls invited me back."

  The guard brightened, standing aside, and Nightfall continued his walk. He had expected it to prove that easy. Once the seductive dancing began, many of the girls would earn extra money by making arrangements on the side. He had balked at using the hallway previously because it required working his way past a guard who might remember him after the crime. Now, that could not be avoided. He would simply have to hope the man had not looked too closely or that he would become lost amid a sea of suspects. Kelryn had escaped his wrath so far by keeping on the run. This time, he had her cornered; and that opportunity might not present itself again.

  The corridor seemed endless, and Nightfall counted doors as he went. Yet, though it had seemed to take forever to get there, too soon he stood before the door to Kelryn’s chamber. He fingered the dagger in his sleeve, well aware of the location of the other three blades on his person. His heart pounded, and his thoughts raced. He attributed a blossoming tickle in his chest to the excitement of finally slaughtering the one who had stolen his love, then betrayed him, of putting to rest the one woman to whom he had dared fully expose himself and all that he was. Ready, he drew a deep breath and eased open the door.

  Nightfall took in the scene in an instant. The room contained a dresser/table with a matching stiff wooden chair, an inset closet, and a bed. Kelryn stood in the open center of the room, her costume clutched in her hands. She wore only two pieces of lacy undergarments, the top covering breasts and upper torso and the bottom spanning from waist to halfway down her thighs. The sheer fabric hid nothing, enhancing rather than hiding the delicate nipples and impressing a perfect triangle in the lower regions. His entrance surprised them both; his memory had not fully captured the grace of her form, thinner than in the past. An awkward silence ensued during which Nightfall managed to step inside and lever the door closed behind him.

  Kelryn dropped the dress and back-stepped. Cosmetics flaked beneath her eyes, hiding dark circles poorly. Beneath a web of sleepless, red lines, he found a fear in her eyes that seemed older than the shock of a strange intruder in her room. "I’m-I’m sorry. I’m not taking clients."

  “I’m not a client." Nightfall drifted closer, sexually aroused despite himself. It occurred to him that nothing would stop him from ravishing her first, and she deserved the humiliation and pain that would come with a rape prior to murder. But some emotion he tried to deny held him back. Just the brief idea of such cruelty instantly sapped him of desire, and a battered pocket of caring colored his thoughts even as he ignored and reviled it. He would have to fight his heart and spirit just to find the courage to kill her.

  Apparently recognizing something violent in his stance, Kelryn took another backward step. Her gaze flicked to his blue-black eyes and held there momentarily, as if reading something in their depths. Her blank stare bunched into a mask of surprise, then a smile lit the corners of her features. "Marak," she whispered.

  The recognition caught Nightfall completely by surprise. He cringed, waiting for the oath-bond to sever body from soul; but it remained quiescent. Clearly, her unassisted identification did not count as him revealing himself. "What?” was all he squeezed from vocal cords that would not function.

  "Marak. You’re alive." The tight smile became a huge and open grin. "You’re alive!" Joy colored Kelryn’s tone and a happy blush tinged her cheeks. She ran toward him.

  Before Kelryn took her second stride, Nightfall seized the glass swan and hurled it to the floor at her feet. It shattered, slivers of colored glass skittering across stone. A glaze of light trickling through a crack in the shutter glittered from every shard.

  Kelryn checked her rush, back-pedaling. Only her well-practiced grace saved her bare feet from the largest fragments. The smile wilted into open-mouthed bewilderment. “Wha-why? Marak?"

  Nightfall had hoped the destruction would trigger a release for his anger and charge him to the necessary violence. Though he had brooded over the reunion, he had never rehearsed the words he would speak before the murder. Always before, the proper threats and warnings had come as naturally as breathing. Now, he seemed to have forgotten even the language of his childhood. Rage rose, directed fully inward. He could not recall feeling this awkward or disarmed since his mother’s beatings had become routine. Only action mattered. If he needed to slaughter the traitor in silence, he would do so. Killing, at least, he knew well. He poised for attack.

  A sudden pounding on the door startled Nightfall. Prince Edward’s unmistakable voice boomed through the panel. "Sudian?”

  Nightfall tensed and froze, the need for decision breaking him free from his trance. He strung together the scenario of how Edward had tracked him. Apparently concerned for the length of time his sorcerer-hunted squire had taken to perform a simple function, the prince had gone searching. Probably, the guard had steered him to the proper corner of the dance hall. Whether or not the prince or someone else had witnessed his entry into this particular room remained to be seen.

  Kelryn’s tired, hazel eyes fixed on Nightfall’s face. She remained still, taking her cues from him.

  Nightfall waved Kelryn to stay silent and in place.

  Edward hammered at the door again. "Sudian. I know you’re there. Answer me at once."

  A string of words flooded Nightfall’s mind then, every one profane. It occurred to him first to slay Kelryn swiftly and claim he had found her corpse on the floor. His shock at discovering a bleeding body should suffice as reason for delaying his response to his master’s call. In demon guise, no other plan would have proven necessary. He guessed that, most likely, the prince had caught a glimpse of him disappearing through this door; but, as Sudian, he dared not risk the possibility that someone else had spotted him, a person who had watched the door since Kelryn’s return. If Prince Edward opened the door before he finished the slaying, or if the dancer managed a scream, his story would fail. Under other circumstances, he would murder the witness, too. This time, however, such action would cost him his soul and, though he hated to admit it, his conscience. Even without Gilleran’s magic to restrain him, he would not harm Alyndar’s younger prince.

  These considerations flew through Nightfall’s mind in an instant. He glared into Kelryn’s face with a menace he believed she would not dare to challenge. "Play along. Make a mistake and my torture will make the Father’s hell you find afterward seem merciful." Without awaiting a reply, or even a change of expression, he partially turned to open the door. Any attempt by Kelryn to feign innocence or surprise might drive him to the very violence he had sought and failed to dredge forth moments e
arlier. She lived now only by the grace of two things: a sorcerer’s magic and Nightfall’s growing devotion to his master. He tried to convince himself the first reason remained the more important of the two.

  Nightfall pulled the door open, and Prince Edward stood outlined in its frame. Though he hated the need, Nightfall resumed his proper role, taking care to keep his attention and his warning stare on Kelryn. "Prince Edward Nargol of Alyndar." His arm traced the appropriate flourish, though with hurried awkwardness, "Master, this is Kelryn. We grew up in the same town."Kelryn curtsied, still graceful despite her obvious bewilderment.

  From the edge of his vision, Nightfall could tell Prince Edward had not moved. His silence seemed so uncharacteristic it became worrisome. Nightfall routed more of his direct attention on his master.

  The prince gawked at what was, apparently, the first near-naked woman he had seen. He squirmed, trying valiantly to tear his gaze away, propriety battling pleasure with a frenzy that seemed unwinnable. "Oh," he managed, averting his eyes with impressive self-control. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know you needed . . . I mean . . ." He stepped inside, closed the door, and politely kept his back to Kelryn.

  Nightfall flicked his gaze deliberately to the dress on the floor. Kelryn raised her brows in question but picked up her clothing and shook glass fragments from the fabric. She pulled it over her head, adjusting the seams. She broke the silence. "I apologize for my dress, noble sir. I wasn’t expecting company. I hope I didn’t offend.”

  "Offend?" Prince Edward took a surreptitious peek to ascertain that Kelryn had used the moment to make herself decent before he turned around fully. “Dear me, no. I’m sorry we barged in on you. I had no idea." He looked, at Nightfall for an explanation, but his eyes betrayed him, slipping back to examine Kelryn’s firm and slender figure through the close-fitting material.

  Nightfall knew a twinge of what felt maddeningly like jealousy. "Master, I’m sorry for my long absence. I saw Kelryn for the first time in years and thought I should greet her."

  "You would have been remiss to do otherwise, Sudian." Although he addressed his squire, Edward’s attention locked on Kelryn’s eyes. He shuffled toward her, heavy boots crunching glass shards to powder. "I’m so sorry about disturbing you, and I’d like to make amends. Would you have dinner with Sudian and me tonight?"

  No! Nightfall shook his head, gesturing briskly for Kelryn to decline.

  The dancer hesitated momentarily. Then a smile curled onto her face, and she shrugged slightly for Nightfall’s benefit. "Noble sir," Kelryn said softly. "I would be honored.”

  Nightfall perched on the broad window sill of their inn room, staring through the wavy glass. It overlooked an alleyway, and the wall of the opposite shop had become tediously familiar while Prince Edward bathed, dressed, and groomed. Nightfall believed he could picture every weathered mortar chip and splotch of dirt on building stone with his eyes closed. His mind worried the situation no matter how hard he tried to thrust it from his thoughts, and the same conclusion rose repeatedly. An association between a betrayer and the man whose safety determined the lot of Nightfall’s soul could only lead to disaster. He needed to halt the dinner before it began. Barring that, he would make it an experience neither wished to repeat. Once they separated, he could find a way to slaughter Kelryn without Edward’s knowledge or interest.

  The prince’s voice jarred Nightfall from his inescapable contemplation. “Sudian, what do you think of this?"

  Nightfall swiveled his head to study his master. Edward wore a blue silk shirt beneath a supple leather tunic, and his breeks matched the shirt so perfectly in shade they had obviously been dyed, if not tailored, together. In lieu of his usual travel boots, he had donned lacing doeskin dress wear colored to match his clothing. He had combed his wet locks back, and they now fell in rakish, blond feathers around the straight and sturdy features. Nightfall had to admit his master looked appropriately princely, and it only added to his annoyance. "What do I think about what, Master?"

  "This." Prince Edward made a gesture that spanned from his neck to his feet. The movement sent the spicy scent of perfume wafting to Nightfall.

  Nightfall scowled, determined to place the dinner back into proper perspective. "I think it’s wonderful, Master, if you’re attending a court feast. For guzzling ale and spoiled meat in a dirty, southern tavern with a whore, it seems a bit formal."

  "Whore?" Edward blinked, expression bewildered. Then, his eyes narrowed, and a red flush of irritation arose. "Sudian! That’s a horrible thing to call a lady.”

  "A lady, yes. A prostitute, no."

  "Stop it, Sudian! What happened to the manners I taught you?"

  Nightfall spun around on the sill, drawing one leg to his chest and allowing the other to dangle. "Master, Kelryn accepts money from men to have sex with them. I believe that’s the definition of whore."

  Edward smoothed back stray hairs. "When did you last see your lady friend?"

  Nightfall weighed the answer, trying to guess the intention of the question in order to give the best response. "A few years ago, Master.”

  "People change, Sudian."

  "With all the proper respect, Master, Kelryn seemed awfully comfortable nearly naked in front of two men."

  "She’s a dancer." Prince Edward pushed his sundries aside and sat on the desk beside them. The room also contained a wash basin, a crate, and straw on the floor that served as beds. Their supplies lay propped in a corner. "And we surprised her. She probably worried more for her safety than her garb." He smiled, his expression whimsical. "When a woman has a body like hers, there’s little need to hide it."

  Nightfall bit his lip. In response to the prince’s defense, annoyance flared, though Nightfall did not wholly understand the intensity of his own reaction. "Being a prostitute doesn’t keep her from being my friend. But it’s not a proper association for a prince."

  Prince Edward smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from his clothing. "I appreciate your concern, Sudian. But I’m in a better position to judge my associations than you." He studied Nightfall who still wore the same fading livery he had donned for the dance show. "Did you want to freshen up, too?"

  "Master, I just think . . ." Nightfall trailed off, realizing he should answer the question before making his point. “I mean no, Master. I’m ready enough for dinner with Kelryn." The words brought memories of the foolish lengths to which love had once driven him. Then, he had dressed in his cleanest and best to entertain this woman, carefully combing out the dirty tangles that defined the character of Marak. "I mean she . . . well . . ." He wanted to speak cautiously but wound up blurting instead. "She has the clap, Master."

  "The clap?"

  "You know, Master. Bad blood. The delicate disease."

  “l know what the clap is, Sudian." Annoyance tainted Edward’s voice. "And I also know how it’s spread. Having dinner is not the way." His eyes narrowed. "And how do you know what she has?”

  I gave it to her. At least if you ask her old roommate in Nemix. "She told me, Master. I know."

  Edward made a pensive noise.

  "Master?" Nightfall encouraged Edward to share his thoughts.

  The prince obliged. "Perhaps she only feared she had it. Or perhaps she felt other need to claim such a thing."

  "Other need, Master?" Nightfall spun completely around to face Edward, letting both legs hang from the sill. Valiantly, he kept challenge from his tone. From any other man, the suggestion that Kelryn might have lied to keep him from her bedroom would have driven him to violence.

  This time, Prince Edward dodged a reply. "Or perhaps she has the clap. What matter? Does that make her any less a person?" He leapt from the table and headed for the door.

  Though discomfited by the entire situation, Nightfall followed quietly.

  Prince Edward and Nightfall met Kelryn in Heffrilen’s Tavern in eastern Noshtillan, a pricey dining and drinking facility without an affiliated tavern or gambling hall. Servant-powered fans swirled pipe and cooking smoke
into lazy circles, and violinists turned over the central stage to jugglers, acrobats, sleight-of-hand magicians, and solo lutists in turn. From past experience, Nightfall knew the food was mediocre; their gold would pay for ambiance and entertainment. He had given most of his leftover silver to Prince Edward, leaving only six for himself; and the realization that his master would spend much of that money on the woman who had betrayed him only fueled annoyance that already felt like a bonfire within him. Even the oath-bond seemed to recede beneath the wild blaze of emotion.

  Kelryn had worn her sleekest, most elegant dress, a flattering green linen that fell in sweeps to her ankles. Marak had purchased it for her, and it had once been his favorite. Though he hated it now, he could not deny that it complimented her figure, and Edward’s long stare only affirmed his impression. The prince drew back her chair, waving her to sit with a dignified flourish that bordered on a bow.

  Kelryn sat, flushing at the royal treatment. Her lowered eyes flitted a glance past Nightfall’s questioningly. Then, as she read the smoldering anger there, her embarrassed modesty became more of a restless concern. "Thank you," she said.

  Edward took his seat. "You’re very welcome, lady."

  Nightfall’s jaw tightened. He seriously wondered if he could stomach food while Kelryn played his master for the innocent fool he was. He wondered what she wanted from Alyndar’s younger prince. His money might win her dinners and trinkets, but not much more; and she would soon find that his status here gained him little in the way of privileges. Eventually, she would tire of him. Sooner rather than later, if Nightfall had his way.