Mistress of the Night (20 page)

began lifting covers and heaping a plate with grilled bread, olives, spiced chicken livers, and boiled eggs. He mouthed nonsense words along with Krin as his brother-in-law answered Strasus. "Among the coins was a sealed pouch containing fifty new gold coins from Calimshan celebrating the ascension of Qysar Shoon III of the Shoon Imperium, an event that occurred in 107 DR, the Year of the Fledglings. The striking on the coins was still sharp. They hadn't been circulated. I think they became part of the cache soon after their minting."

Strasus was stroking his beard so quickly Keph was surprised the whiskers weren't falling out.

"Well done, Krin," the old man said.

"Calishite coins among artifacts from Netheril and a Netherese survivor-state," commented Dagnalla. "That's an odd combination. I didn't think the two civilizations had much to do with each other."

Strasus sighed and shook his head. "I'm certain the tiles from the cache would tell us more, if only I could translate the writing on them. They resist even magical translation." His fingers slowed. "A picture begins to emerge, however. On the eve of Anauria's fall, artifacts of Netherese heritage are smuggled out of the doomed nation. Those escorting the artifacts make for Calimshan—some ally there has sent them Calishite coin. They travel east from their doomed nation and south, skirting the settlements growing in the Dale-lands, and head for the docks at a rough quarrying community, perhaps to seek passage across the Sea of Fallen Stars and south..."

"But why abandon their treasures?" Dagnalla asked. "And why avoid the Dalelands?"

"If they were traveling in secret, they might have wanted to avoid anyone who could seize their treasures," suggested Roderio. "And when they had to meet with other people in Yhaunn, maybe they hid their treasures with the intention of retrieving them later, but were unable to go back."

"Possibly. But why were they going to Calimshan?"

Keph dragged a chair away from the table with a loud, penetrating scrape.

"Most importantly," Keph said, "why bother asking?"

He set his laden plate down and dropped into the chair with a satisfied groan. Malia gave him a look of disgust.

"Some people want to know things, Keph," she said. "Things other than what the inside of a jail cell looks like and how much ale they can drink before they throw up."

"Knowledge for knowledge's sake, then?" Keph asked. He impaled a liver on his fork and gestured with it. Spice-stained sauce splattered across the table. "Nothing purely practical, like unlocking the secret of some forgotten Netherese magic, for instance?"

Strasus looked at him with a long face. "Wouldn't that be a good thing to know?" he asked.

His voice was slow with the infuriating patience of an adult talking to a child. Keph's lips curled. He popped the liver in his mouth, and talked around it as he chewed. "How much ale you can drink before you throw up is a good thing to know, too."

Roderio flushed, blood showing bright red through the pale translucency of his newly healed skin. "Charming as ever, aren't you, Keph?"

"I have to keep up with you, Rodo."

His brother's face looked ready to bleed. Keph held back a satisfied smirk as he tucked into his breakfast. He glanced up at his family. Malia, Krin, and Roderio were staring at him. Strasus and Dagnalla were looking at each other, their old hands clasped.

"Go on," Keph mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Keep talking. It sounded really interesting. Hmpk—no, that's not right..." He swallowed. "I'm sorry, I meant to say it sounded really dull."

Roderio flung his napkin onto the table. "No," he said, "I think we're finished. I have research to work on."

"New potions?" Keph asked.

Roderio shot him a burning glare and turned away sharply to stride out of the room. Krin and Malia glanced

at each other, then rose as well. They left without saying anything. Keph looked at his father and mother. "Well?" he asked.

Emotion flickered across Dagnalla's face. "Keph," she said, her voice and eyes weary, "you look terrible."

"I've been working on my own research, mother. Comparing the insides of jail cells."

Dagnalla closed her eyes for a moment.

Strasus leaned forward, admonishing, "Keph..."

Keph paused in his eating to ask, "Are you going to lecture me now?"

"No."

"Good."

He went back to eating.

"Keph," Strasus said with a sigh, "Hane Cartcoster came to see us yesterday evening. She's still looking for Jarull. She'd heard that he's been seen around Yhaunn with you, but he hasn't been home for more than two ten-days now. Do you know where he is?"

"No," Keph answered, and for the moment at least, it was the truth.

"Hane is worried about him."

"Hane is always worried about Jarull."

"I know," agreed Strasus, "but this time she's really worried, and I think for good cause. She asked us to try locating him with magic. We couldn't find him."

The food in Keph's mouth turned dry and bitter as ashes. He choked it down and looked up slowly.

"If you ever" he spat, "tried doing that to me, I would never forgive you. Never!'

"Keph, are you listening to us?" said Dagnalla. "We couldn't find Jarull. If you have seen him, then—"

"I heard you." Keph dropped his fork onto his plate. The ring Variance had given his friend, he guessed immediately—it must have carried some kind of protection against divination magic. He glared at his parents. "Did you hear me? I don't want you casting your magic on me like that."

"You wouldn't want us to look for you if we thought

you were in danger?" Strasus asked. He took Dagnalla's hand again, and his mouth went hard. "No, Keph. I'm not going to promise you that. We're not going to promise you that."

Keph clenched his teeth and grumbled, "Because you think I need your help? Because you don't think I can take care of myself?"

"No!" Strasus exclaimed.

"Magic didn't protect Roderio, did it?"

Keph shoved his chair back and stood up. The words of the orison that Variance had taught him rose to his lips. The smallest, most insignificant of spells—but it would show Strasus wouldn't it? Show him that while he might not see the potential in his youngest son, Shar did.

Except that Variance had told him not to reveal his faith to anyone.

For a moment, Keph struggled between his anger and the dark priestess's warning. One orison. Just one—

He swallowed the prayer and glared at his parents. "Is magic the only thing anyone in this family cares about?"

He turned and stalked out of the dining room and back to the entrance hall. His hangover had returned with a vengeance, and breakfast wasn't sitting well.

He'd just started climbing the big main stair when a shout rippled down from above: "Hey, Uncle Keph!"

Keph looked up.

Adrey stood at the head of the stairs, dressed against the heat in a simple white dress.

Just as she had looked laid out on Shar's altar.

His foot missed the next step and he stumbled, almost falling before catching himself on the banister. Adrey came leaping down the stairs to meet him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Adrey. Thanks."

There was sweat on his forehead. Keph wiped it away with a trembling hand. No, he reminded himself, it hadn't been Adrey on the altar but an illusion. Just an illusion.

An illusion that he shoved a knife through.

Adrey's forehead creased. "You don't look fine." Her nose wrinkled. "Beshaba's ivory arms, you stink!"

"Adrey!" He gulped back the nausea that churned in his stomach. "Language!"

"I'm not Adrey today," she replied. "Guess who I am."

The girl jumped back and waved a stick at him. He squinted at it.

"That's not one of your father's wands, is it?"

"It's not a wand." She lunged forward and poked at him.

Keph reacted instinctively, turning so that the blow slid past him, then stepping clear and reaching for Quick's hilt. Adrey spun around to face him.

"You have Tymora's own luck," she crowed, "but I'll change that!"

She flicked the stick menacingly back and forth through the air like a rapier.

Dark, gasped Keph in silent shock, then said, "Adrey, what are you doing?"

"What?" Adrey looked down at her feet. "Am I standing wrong?"

Keph's hand was still on Quick's hilt. He forced it away and said, "You should be practicing your magic. If you don't practice, you won't become a wizard. You don't want that."

He stretched out his hand to take the stick, but she twitched it out of reach and made a face.

"Everyone around here is a wizard," she whined. "I don't want to do that anymore. I want to learn to fight like you do!"

Keph clenched his teeth and said, "No, you don't."

She looked puzzled.

"I've watched you practicing," Adrey replied. "It looks more fun than learning cantrips."

"Well, I think cantrips are more interesting."

Adrey made another face and said, "Well, they aren't. There's only one way to do them and if you don't get it right, they don't work." She swiped her stick through the air again. "Come on, Uncle Keph! Show me something."

Sweat trickled cold over Keph's flushed face. His head throbbed.

"Maybe later, Adrey," Keph said. "I... need to go to my room."

He turned away back up the stairs. Adrey looked disappointed, but stepped out of his way.

"Do you want me to tell Gran that you're not feeling good?" she called.

"No, thank you."

"All right." Keph heard her start to trot on down the stairs. "I hope you're feeling better soon. I love you, Uncle Keph!"

Keph twisted around to look at her, but she was already bounding across the entry hall, maybe looking for her grandparents in the dining room.

<§?

"I've heard back from the various followers of Selune who help us keep watch for Sharran activity around Yhaunn," Julith said.

Feena glanced at her as they paced through the corridors of Moonshadow Hall. "And?" she asked.

"Nothing—not around the Stiltways, not anywhere. If there are Sharrans in the city, they're keeping very, very quiet."

Feena gave the younger priestess a faint smile and said, "I notice that you're not ruling out their presence all together."

"You saw what you saw," Julith said, "and caution never hurts." She returned Feena's glance. "I discovered something else, though. After your encounter, Mifano never even bothered to check with the watchers."

Feena pressed her lips together. "Too sure of his own assessment of the situation, I suspect. Did the watchers have anything to say about..." She grimaced. "Anything else?"

"The Stiltways are humming with stories of werewolves," Julith replied. "The tales have spread a little bit

into the city at large, but seem to be mostly dismissed as drunken ravings. No one except High Luck Shoondeep seems to have made any connection to you, though."

"I hope it stays that way," Feena said bitterly.

After her experience at the Cutter's Dip three nights before, she had hastened back to Moonshadow Hall, sticking to Yhaunn's more brightly lit streets. A quick leap over the kitchen wall had brought her back to safety once more—but it hadn't been until she'd collapsed into a chair in Julith's room that the harrowing danger had really hit her. She'd tracked the servants of Malar in Arch Wood, even fought vampires in Selgaunt, but a mob of unarmed drunks had almost brought her down. Feena had given fervent thanks to Selune for her deliverance—even if it had been at the arrogant hands of Keph Thingoleir—and paid serious attention to Julith when she suggested that maybe another approach was needed.

Even if that approach failed to yield results, it was better than risking her furry skin chasing Sharrans that might or might not exist. Besides, with Julith to support her, there was more than enough to keep her busy around Moonshadow Hall.

They approached a door that opened onto the cloisters.

"Ready?" asked Julith.

Feena smoothed the simple pale blue gown that the seamstress had prepared for her and checked the silver web in her hair.

"Ready," she said.

Julith pulled open the door. Feena walked through, passed across the shaded walkway, and stepped out into the golden light of afternoon that flooded the courtyard.

Around Selune's sacred pool, a group of about a dozen people were gathered: representatives of the city's merchants, craft guilds, the Nessarch's office, and the high priests and priestesses of the council of temples—even Colle Shoondeep. Velsinore and Mifano were there as well, Mifano making restrained conversation with various people while Velsinore kept a critical eye on the acolytes who moved among the group, offering chilled wine.

"Thank you all for coming," Feena called.

Conversation stilled and faces turned toward her as she walked across the grass. The acolytes made a silent, graceful exit, except for one who quickly brought wine to Feena and Julith before departing. Feena inclined her head to her guests. They returned the gesture—some more enthusiastically and graciously than others. Colle barely nodded. Mifano's bow was deep but cold and stiff. Velsinore didn't move at all.

Feena ignored the three of them.

"As some of you may know," she said, pronouncing each word as clearly as she had practiced with Julith, "it has become a tradition at Moonshadow Hall to open our doors to the poor of Yhaunn on the night of the new moon in what we call the New Moon Beneficence."

"And a wonderful tradition it is, too!" said Endress Halatar.

Feena nodded in acknowledgement of her praise and said, "It is always popular, and it has won Moonshadow Hall much favor in the less wealthy parts of the city. The New Moon Beneficence was never intended to bring worshipers to Selune, however, only to provide some relief to the poor. We can't help all of them, though. Each new moon, we find ourselves turning people away. That's why I would like to invite you all—other temples, the city, merchants, and guilds—to share in this act of charity. All of us are wealthy. If we work together one night a month; we would be able to provide for many, many people."