No answer came.
He seized a long knife from the table and reversed it, the better to conceal the blade against his forearm. Cellica grasped the crossbow amulet around her throat and Kalen nodded. He rose, a finger to his lips, and crossed to the door.
He put his left hand on the latch and lifted it as silently as he could, keeping his body shielded by the wall. Then he threw open the door and raised the knife…
A familiar red-haired half-elf, clad in a plain leather skirt and vest over a white shirt, leaped over the threshold into his arms. "Shadow, dearest!" she exclaimed.
Her lips found his and he could see only the stunned expressions on Cellica's and Myrin's faces.
SIXTEEN
Wheeling around for balance, Kalen managed to break the kiss and breathe.
Fayne seemed undaunted. "Shadow! It's been so long!" She hugged him tightly and squealed.
He blinked over her shoulder ro the table, where Cellica was staring at him in shock. Myrin looked at him, then the newcomer, then down at her stew-she seemed to shrink on her stool. Cellica looked halfway between angry and wonderstruck.
"Oh, Shadow, we'll have such a glorious time at the revel," she said, emphasizing her words breathlessly. "I can't believe you have an invitation-I can't wait to wear my dress! Oh!"
Kalen could hardly breathe, she held him so hard.
"Kalen," Cellica asked slowly, "Kalen, who is this? What revel?"
"I-urph," Kalen said as the woman kissed him again, cutting off any words. This kiss was harder than the first, more insistent, and he tasted her tongue in his mouth.
A little hand tugged the hem of the half-elf s vest. "Pardon, lass," Cellica asked, hands on her hips. "Who… who are you?"
"I'm Fayne," the half-elf said, lacing her fingers through Kalen's. "A… friendof Shadow, here-I mean, Sir Kalen Dren." She winked conspiratorially.
Kalen could only stare when Cellica looked at him. "I don't know her," he said.
"She knows you" the halfling quipped. Then, eyes widening: "She knows? About-"
"Of course I know," Fayne said with a laugh. Then she looked between them and put her hand over her mouth in mock fear. "What, is it a secret?"
Cellica's face turned bright red, and Kalen shivered. "It's not how it looks-"
Kalen saw Fayne glance at Myrin, and she hesitated half a breath. Then she let loose a squeal. "Who's this, Kalen? She's adorable!"
Myrin's eyes widened as Fayne rushed to her and hugged her around the neck, then proceeded to fuss over her like a child with a kitten. Myrin stared at Kalen, stunned.
A tiny blue rune appeared on Myrin's cheek, Kalen saw, where Fayne had touched. But before he could comment, a halfling finger poked him insistently and he looked down.
"What's going on?" Cellica looked furious. "Kalen, who is this woman?"
"I don't-" Kalen's head hurt even worse than when he had risen. "I can explain."
"Oh." Cellica climbed up on her stool and crossed her arms. "This should be grand."
Myrin looked positively mouselike at the table under Fayne's attentions.
"Better make it fast," Fayne noted, drawing out the word. "Someone else is coming up." Kalen's heart skipped. "Who?"
"A woman," Fayne said. "Very pretty-gorgeous, even. Long dark hair, deep blue eyes. Armed and armored. Five gauntlets on her…" Fayne made a gesture across her collarbone and giggled. "Why-" She smiled. "Do you know her?"
"Tymora guard us," Cellica said. "That's Rayse."
"Who's Rayse?" Fayne looked at Kalen jealously. "Another lass friend?"
"His superior, Araezra Hondyl!" Cellica said. "You were supposed to report this morn, Sir Snores-a-bed!" Cellica stared, wide-eyed, at Kalen. "What do we-?"
Kalen was in motion, crossing to the table.
Fayne purred at him. "You're quite the man, to have so many-hey!"
Kalen seized her by the arm and hauled her toward a closet, in which hung their spare clothes. He pushed her in, despite muffled protests, and stepped in himself.
"Kalen!" Cellica hissed. "What am I supposed to tell her?"
Kalen shrugged-he couldn't think, except that he knew he couldn't let Araezra catch them.
He shut the door behind them.
Myrin took very close care to stare at her stew the whole time.
She didn't know what was going on-where she was, who these people were, or anything-but just because she remembered nothing didn't mean she was an idiot. She'd seen that red-haired girl-Fayne- and the way she touched Kalen.
Of course he's got a lass friend, you fool, she thought. What did you expect?
She fancied she could still feel Fayne's fingers on her cheeks-the way the half-elf had prodded at her, grinning all the while. The touch lingered and Myrin felt oddly full, though it was not just from all the stew she had eaten. She felt full in spirit.
Maybe it was just Kalen looking at you, she thought. You're such a girl!
Cellica looked at her, and her mouth drooped in a sympathetic frown. She threw up her hands. "He's not always so," she said. "Just.. hold a moment."
Myrin opened her mouth to speak, but she felt a gentle pressure in her ears-a voice rhat itched at her mind, telling her to remain in her seat. Magic. She stayed sitting, wondering.
Cellica got up and started toward the door, which Fayne had left open. In the corridor, Myrin saw with a stabbing curdle in her stomach, stood a very lovely and very angry lady. She had sleek, glossy black hair and liquid eyes bound in a face like that of a wrathful nymph. The woman wore a uniform, but Myrin did not know what sort. Little about this world seemed familiar to her thus far.
"Rayse!" Cellica said. "What a surprise! Won't you come"-the dark-haired woman swept into the chamber past the halfling-"in?"
"Well-" Araezra pulled up short and stared. "Well met?"
After an awkward breath, Myrin realized she was talking to her. "Oh… well met."
Araezra looked confused. "I'm sorry-have we met? I don't know you."
"Uh-I'm… I'm Myrin." Her fingers curled and her heart thudded. Why did they all have to be so perfect''. "I'm… uh…"
Her brow furrowing, Araezra looked to Cellica.
"You probably want Kalen," the halfling said. "He's… ah-"
"It's very important," Araezra said. "He was supposed to report for duty this morn, and I haven't seen him." She glared toward Myrin, whose cheeks felt like they might burst into flame. She picked at her blue hair and wished it weren'r so straggly.
Myrin wondered if Kalen wasn't some kind of nobleman, or rich merchant, or perhaps the lord of a harem, to have this many lasses flocking to his door. She wasn't cerrain where she'd heard that word "harem" before-it was floating somewhere in the back of her mind. Elusive, like a shard of a dream that danced just on the edge of her awareness.
Like her mother's face. Like all her memories.
"I'll tell him when I see him," Cellica said. "He's… he might be with Commander Jarthay. They were bound for the Siren yestereve. Perhaps they're still there?"
Araezra glanced at Myrin, who tried to shrink smaller. She looked back at Cellica. "You didn't…" she said awkwardly. "You didn't happen to read the Minstrel this morn?"
Cellica folded her hands behind her back. "No, absolutely not."
"Cellica."
"Well, yes-" The halfling winced. She waved her hands. "But it's horribly unfair! You aren't like that at all. That's just bloody Satin Rutshear."
Araezra smiled and sighed. "My thanks. I–I just have to find Kalen. We need to talk."
Cellica nodded. "I'll tell him when I see him."
The halfling looked at Myrin as though expecting her to say aught, but Myrin had no idea what to say. She couldn't stop staring at Araezra, who was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen-that she could remember, anyway.
Araezra didn't leave. She bit her prerty lip, and Myrin saw her eyes were damp.