threw her in chains,” Estah went on. However, when he was off routing a few straggling bands of goblins, Ravendas managed to escape.” “But how?” Mari asked.
Estah’s face hardened. “Ravendas was always a sly one. She could don a look of remorse as easily as you might don your cloak. At the time it happened, Kera was the only one in camp. Ravendas spoke to her, pretty words I’m sure, and finally she convinced Kera that she was truly repentant, that she wished to begin a new life. Kera believed her, and she unlocked Ravendas’s chains.”
Estah’s voice trembled and her eyes grew distant, as if she were reliving it all over again. “By the time we rode back to camp, Ravendas had escaped. We found Kera, her fair face pressed to the cold ground. The chains that had bound Ravendas were wrapped about her neck, wet with her blood.” She shook her head in sorrow. “Kera was dead. Ravendas had strangled her.”
“But I don’t understand,” Mari said, angered by what seemed Kera’s pointless death. “Why did Kera believe Ravendas? It should have been obvious that she was lying.”
“True,” Estah said with a nod, “but Kera wanted to believe. You see, Mari, Kera and Ravendas were sisters.”
Mari stared at the healer in silent shock.
“Caledan blamed himself, of course,” Estah went on sadly. “And he blamed the Harpers as well. He broke with the Harpers that day, and that was when the Fellowship disbanded. We each went on to lead our separate lives, and as far as I know Caledan has not played a note of music since. I think it reminds him of Kera far too much.”
Mari did not know what to say. The healer’s tale made her regret a few of the harsh things she had said to Caldorien.
Estah shook her head, regarding the small hands resting against her gray homespun skirt. “If only there had been enough healing in these two old hands,” she said softly. “Perhaps Kera might have lived.”
Mari reached out and took the healer’s hands in her own. “But you can’t fault yourself, Estah, no more than Caledan can.”
Estah pulled her hands away. “Oh, yes, I can,” she said sternly. “I can, and I do. But while Kera’s death shattered Caledan, it made me strong, Mari. I vowed that day never to let another person I love die. Never.” She rose to her feet abruptly.
“I’d best see if Pog and Nog are in bed yet,” Estah said, then left Mari alone in the flickering light of the fire.
It was quiet in the Dreaming Dragon. Mari sat at a small table in the corner of her room, bathed in the light of a single candle. She unrolled a piece of parchment and dipped a quill in a small pot of ink. Her hand wavered for a moment as she thought of Estah’s tale. Then she swallowed hard and began to write. She had her duty. When she was finished she read over the brief missive, written in her flowing hand:
To Belhuar Thantarth Master of Twilight Hall
Greetings!
I have made contact with Caldorien as ordered. He has agreed to help counter the Zhentarim in Iriaebor of his own will, and all goes well He has learned that Cutter is in truth Ravendas, but he does not suspect our knowledge. More importantly, I have confirmed the rumors concerning his shadow magic. I shall make contact again in one tenday.
Milil’s Blessing! Mari Al’maren
Mari deftly folded the parchment and sealed it with hot wax from the candle. She would find a rider tomorrow who could deliver it to Twilight Hall in Berdusk. For a moment she watched the shadows cast by the candle’s light flicker on the wall of her room. It was almost as if they were dancing, she thought, and then she blew out the flame.
Seven
It was midmorning two days later when Estah returned from a trip to the free market in the New City. The few patrons in the common room looked up in astonishment from their tables. Most had known the innkeeper for years, but few had ever seen her angry.
“She has gone too far this time!” Estah exclaimed
Estah’s face hardened. “Ravendas was always a sly one. She could don a look of remorse as easily as you might don your cloak. At the time it happened, Kera was the only one in camp. Ravendas spoke to her, pretty words I’m sure, and finally she convinced Kera that she was truly repentant, that she wished to begin a new life. Kera believed her, and she unlocked Ravendas’s chains.”
Estah’s voice trembled and her eyes grew distant, as if she were reliving it all over again. “By the time we rode back to camp, Ravendas had escaped. We found Kera, her fair face pressed to the cold ground. The chains that had bound Ravendas were wrapped about her neck, wet with her blood.” She shook her head in sorrow. “Kera was dead. Ravendas had strangled her.”
“But I don’t understand,” Mari said, angered by what seemed Kera’s pointless death. “Why did Kera believe Ravendas? It should have been obvious that she was lying.”
“True,” Estah said with a nod, “but Kera wanted to believe. You see, Mari, Kera and Ravendas were sisters.”
Mari stared at the healer in silent shock.
“Caledan blamed himself, of course,” Estah went on sadly. “And he blamed the Harpers as well. He broke with the Harpers that day, and that was when the Fellowship disbanded. We each went on to lead our separate lives, and as far as I know Caledan has not played a note of music since. I think it reminds him of Kera far too much.”
Mari did not know what to say. The healer’s tale made her regret a few of the harsh things she had said to Caldorien.
Estah shook her head, regarding the small hands resting against her gray homespun skirt. “If only there had been enough healing in these two old hands,” she said softly. “Perhaps Kera might have lived.”
Mari reached out and took the healer’s hands in her own. “But you can’t fault yourself, Estah, no more than Caledan can.”
Estah pulled her hands away. “Oh, yes, I can,” she said sternly. “I can, and I do. But while Kera’s death shattered Caledan, it made me strong, Mari. I vowed that day never to let another person I love die. Never.” She rose to her feet abruptly.
“I’d best see if Pog and Nog are in bed yet,” Estah said, then left Mari alone in the flickering light of the fire.
It was quiet in the Dreaming Dragon. Mari sat at a small table in the corner of her room, bathed in the light of a single candle. She unrolled a piece of parchment and dipped a quill in a small pot of ink. Her hand wavered for a moment as she thought of Estah’s tale. Then she swallowed hard and began to write. She had her duty. When she was finished she read over the brief missive, written in her flowing hand:
To Belhuar Thantarth Master of Twilight Hall
Greetings!
I have made contact with Caldorien as ordered. He has agreed to help counter the Zhentarim in Iriaebor of his own will, and all goes well He has learned that Cutter is in truth Ravendas, but he does not suspect our knowledge. More importantly, I have confirmed the rumors concerning his shadow magic. I shall make contact again in one tenday.
Milil’s Blessing! Mari Al’maren
Mari deftly folded the parchment and sealed it with hot wax from the candle. She would find a rider tomorrow who could deliver it to Twilight Hall in Berdusk. For a moment she watched the shadows cast by the candle’s light flicker on the wall of her room. It was almost as if they were dancing, she thought, and then she blew out the flame.
Seven
It was midmorning two days later when Estah returned from a trip to the free market in the New City. The few patrons in the common room looked up in astonishment from their tables. Most had known the innkeeper for years, but few had ever seen her angry.
“She has gone too far this time!” Estah exclaimed
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