Surprisingly, Hie small window in their room that overlooked the bay was dark. The sounds of commerce, cargo, and shipping had fallen silent. The wharf seemed eerily quiet.
He cleared his throat to get Jak's attention and asked in a whisper, "What time is it, little man?"
It took Jak a moment to come out of his prayer trance. When he did, he opened one eye and cocked an eyebrow at Cale. The soft glow of die candlelight made him look like a sinister, red-headed pixie. "A few hours past midnight," he softly replied. "Selune will be setting soon."
"Dark," Cale oathed in surprise, and sat up in the bed. He had slept away the whole day and most of the night. "Sorry about that, Jak," he said, while pulling on his freshly laundered shirt. The laundry girl must have brought in his clothes while he slept. "I didn't mean to sleep that long."
Jak pocketed has holy symbol, stood up, and used the candle to light the wick of the room's single oil lamp. Cale squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.
"Not a problem. It gave me time to come to terms with Brandobaris. Just in case." He laughed casually, but Cale thought it sounded forced. "Besides, while you slept I had some of Matilda's fish stew and homemade ale. Quite good actually. Wouldn't have been my choice for a last meal, though." He tried to smile at his joke but managed only a pained grimace.
Cale could think of nothing to say to ease his friend's uneasiness. He too felt less than sure that he would see another sunrise. He tried to change the subject. "You should've gotten some sleep, Jak. Elaena said you needed rest."
The little man snorted as he belted on his short sword and daggers. "Are you kidding? Burn me, Cale, I feel like my skin is on fire. I couldn't fall asleep if a mage used a sleep spell on me." Seeing Gale's concerned frown, he hurriedly added, "But I'm still ready for this. I'm not… it's just the waiting."
Cale nodded. He understood. Had he not been absolutely exhausted, he doubted he would have been able to sleep either. He stood and stretched his long frame and belted on his weapons.
"Let's get a quick meal and get this over with. No more waiting."
"A meal? You hungry?"
Cale donned his enchanted leather armor and threw on his new blue cloak.
"Not especially. But I need to do something… normal beforehand. You understand?"
"I understand. Definitely." Jak smiled. "I'm hungry again, anyway."
They gathered up their gear, took the candle in hand, and walked down the hall to Matilda's room. After a round of firm knocking, the sleepy, grumbling old woman opened her door a crack.
"What is itr she croaked.
"We're leaving," Cale announced. "Now, and we won't be back."
She nodded, grumbled something obscene under her breath, and tried to shut the door. Cale stuck his boot in the opening to prevent it from closing. "We would like something to eat before we go, old woman. Ifs important."
At that, her eyes narrowed angrily. "It's too damned late," she protested. Toull have to-"
Cale shut her up by flashing a handful of fivestars. "One meal, Matilda. It's not a lot to ask. I said if'simportant."
She studied the corns, torn between sleepiness and greed. The gold in Gale's hand represented more than a tenday's rent. After only a moment, greed won out. She gave a brisk nod and grabbed the fivestars in a wrinkled hand. Ill get dressed and be down in a moment. You'll set your own table though, you hear? There's bowls and spoons in the cabinet."
"Fair enough," Cale said, and headed downstairs to the dining room with Jak.
They took bowls, cups, and semi-clean tableware from an ancient wooden cabinet and sat at the sturdy common table. Within a few minutes, Matilda, now dressed in faded nightclothes, descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen to start a fire. She was still grumbling.
"Stew, bread, and ale is all I got," she announced over her shoulder.
Cale shot a longsuffering smile at Jak. "Looks like you're getting fish stew as a last meal no matter what you do, little man."
"So it seems," Jak replied, and distractedly passed his finger back and forth through the candle's flame. "It's fate, Cale, and there's no point fighting fate."
Before long, Matilda emerged from the kitchen. In her gnarled hands, she held a serving board set with a pot of steaming stew, a loaf of day old black bread, and a pitcher of ale. After setting the whole on the table, she filled both their cups with ale and ladled their bowls full with the chunky fish stew.
"You have as much of this as you want," she told them. "Leave the mess and I'll get to it in the morning." She took a step back and eyed Cale determinedly. "But I'm going back to bed now, gold or no gold. This ain't no time for decent folks to be up and about."
"No, it's not. Thank you, Matilda, and goodnight."
Startled by his considerate reply, she muttered under her breath, walked away, and slowly walked back up the creaking stairs.
Jak and Cale sat in silence. They picked at the food, their minds on other things.
As he spooned in another mouthful of the stew-it was tasty, as Jak had said-Cale looked around the seamy dining room. Empty now, the morning would no doubt find the dirt-stained floor populated by seedy men with dirt-stained souls. Anyone, including fall-down drunks, thieves on the lam, assassins on a job, and whatever other dregs had managed to stumble into Matilda's boardinghouse with enough coin for a night's lodging. Back in Westgate, Cale had taken predawn breakfasts in rooms exactly like this more times than he could count.
This is who you are, he thought, and felt no sadness, only resignation. He had tried for years to deny it, to be nothing more than a butler and a kind man, but he was too tired to deny his nature any longer. His soul, too, was dirt-stained, and this was where he belonged.
"Dark," Jak oathed. He set down his spoon and stared at Cale with wide eyes.
Cale waved the candle smoke out of his face. "What?" His hand went to his sword hilt and he half rose from the chair. His eyes searched the dark room but he saw nothing. "What?"
Jak's hand went to the pocket where he kept his holy symbol. "Just now," he said, still shocked. "The smoke. It… formed a mask around your eyes."
"You're mistaken," Cale instinctively protested, but his flesh goosepimpled.
"I'm not," Jak insisted. "Blast. Something's happening here, Cale. With Yrsillar. With us. Something big. Dark and empty, but I can feel it." He pulled his holy symbol from his pocket and rolled it along his knuckles.
Cale decided: then to tell Jak everything. Maybe the little man could shed some light on what was happening.
MJak, listen. When I faced Yrsillar, he called me a Champion of Mask." He felt stupid saying it aloud, but there it was. "That mean anything to you?"
Jak shook his head, but his knowing eyes studied Cale intently.
"He also said that there is another, that there are two champions of Mask." He looked questioningly at the little man. "Could that be us?"
Jak immediately shook his head and held his holy symbol up between thumb and forefinger. "Not possible," he said. "You could be one, I suppose, but I couldn't. I'm a priest of Brandobaris. I can't also be the servant of another god, much less the servant of Mask. If there's another Champion, it's someone other than me."
Cale accepted that with a nod. He sat back in his chair and gulped his ale.
Jak leaned forward and looked at him earnestly. "That confirms it though, Cale. The gods are involved here. Or at least Mask. Cale… I think you're being called."
"You're crazy." Cale sipped from his ale and tried to keep his hand from shaking.
Jak laughed softly. "It's hard to get your hands around, I know." He sipped from his own ale. "You know how I became a priest of Brandobaris?"