Its valiant charge ended, however, on the point of one of Kalen’s knives. The throw caught the creature in the torso and pinned it to the deck.
Myrin looked across at him gratefully, but Kalen looked away. Aye, definitely a history there-if only Rhett could get either of them to talk about it.
“Did it bite you?” Rhett reached for Toytere’s wrist, meaning to heal him.
“Leave off, boy,” Toytere said. “Hrasting thing didn’t touch me, and even if it did, I wouldn’t let you do the same, no?” He turned to Sithe. “Away, me Lady Void-I be hungering for a meal and me own bed.”
Kalen looked at him suspiciously, but the halfling ducked his gaze. He crossed to the forecastle rail and started to climb down to his boat.
Sithe made to go, but Myrin stepped in her path. “I thought you should know,” she said. “In the captain’s quarters-a circle of ash …” She trailed off.
“A firesoul,” Sithe said. “I have seen it before.”
Myrin nodded. “I just thought-you’re a genasi, too, and …”
“It matters not,” Sithe replied. “Dust to dust, fire to fire.”
Myrin and Kalen exchanged a look, which Rhett did not quite understand. Sithe turned away and climbed after Toytere.
“What do we do with the ship?” Rhett asked. “And all the rats?”
“Let it burn.” Kalen indicated the fire below, where Myrin’s spell had lit the ship ablaze. “I saw some untapped oil barrels down there. We should go.”
Rhett, who did not relish dying in a fiery explosion, was the first to the skiff. Though he didn’t like rowing, he took up the oars without being asked.
When they were well away and the derelict raged in towering flames, Rhett looked to Myrin. “Are you well, my lady?”
Myrin, who was covered in soot, finally seemed to notice he was there. “What?”
“Are you hurt?” Rhett asked. “Did any of the rats bite you?”
Brow furrowed, Myrin felt around her body, then shook her head. “All whole,” she said. “The only hurt I have came from my own spell and you healed that.”
“Right,” Rhett said. “Saer? Do you need healing?”
Kalen shook his head. Where he sat in the prow, he looked like a burned statue, his leathers crisped by a firestorm. He watched Toytere and Sithe’s skiff receding.
“My lady,” Rhett said. “Where did you learn such powers? I saw the scything flames and heard the blast from below. You must be a talented wizard.”
Myrin opened her mouth to reply, then looked wordlessly away.
“She doesn’t remember,” Kalen said.
“You don’t-” Rhett gazed at her. “My lady?”
Myrin looked to Kalen and spoke as though she hadn’t heard Rhett. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “Those skeletons we found, picked clean like the victims of the plague-those rats might have been the source. Biting, right?”
“Yes,” Kalen said. “And Toytere might carry it.”
“He doesn’t,” Myrin said. “If he’d been bitten, he’d have told us.”
“You know what he did on the ship and yet you still trust him.”
“You have to trust people, Kalen.”
Kalen shook his head.
Rhett didn’t know what was going on-didn’t know what they were talking about. Still, Myrin’s words resonated. “Perhaps she is right, Saer Shadowbane,” he said. “It’s about love.”
They turned to him: Kalen’s expression hard as stone, Myrin looking tired but expectant. “Go on,” she said.
“I … it’s something they say at Sune’s temple, back in Waterdeep,” he said. “That love is the water and light by which we grow, but love is impossible without trust. Thus, you cannot expect a man to become better than he is if you do not trust him.”
Myrin smiled. “That’s it,” she said. “That’s it exactly.”
Kalen shook his head. “That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Why trust a man who stabs you in the back, let alone love him? How?”
Rhett looked at Kalen, then Myrin, then smiled helplessly. “Not even Sune says love is easy.”
Toytere scratched at the rent flesh of his wrist. Godsdamn, how it itched.
Ironic, he thought, the Rat bitten by a rat.
He cradled his wrist as the rowboat cut through the water, back toward the dock. Even now, the bite made the feeling recede from one half of his body. If Sithe hadn’t taken up the oars, the skiff would surely be tracing circles through Luskan’s bay. His body hurt from a dozen of Loviatar’s best blades thrust in his most sensitive spots, but he could shut out the ache with a single thought: Myrin.
The way she had thanked him-kissed him even-had shaken him beyond words. Even more disturbing was what she had leaned down to whisper so no one else could hear: “I trust you, Toy.”
She, who had no reason to trust him, who had seen what he meant for her, had chosen to put her life in his hands. Why would she do such a thing?
“Are you well, master?” Sithe asked. He felt her black eyes on him, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing his fear. He did fear her-anyone would-but he grew angry as well. Inside of him, a deep abiding fury coiled and grew.
“Bah! Of course I be!” Toytere wiped the sweat from his brow. “Just row.”
Sithe continued rowing across the bay in silence.
The Coin Priest stared into the depths of the platinum coin, willing it to speak to her. It was her connection to the goddess-its power gave her power. And yet, it had failed so many times before. Perhaps this time-this time it would be different.
A knock at the door interrupted her musings and she forced a warm, flirtatious grin onto her face. She hated having to smile.
“Please, come,” the Coin Priest purred, reclining on her striped fur carpet.
This carpet was particularly fine-soft and smooth and stinking of violence. The skin had once belonged to a rakshasa, who had made the mistake of crossing her. Now the creature’s best feature was hers forever.
Her lackeys sank to one knee before her. Their leader-the very ugly brute she’d honored with her favors-gave her a sly little smile. Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all.
“You have something?” she asked.
“The derelict in the bay, Your Grace,” said the ugly man. “We’s been watching, as you says, and it’s-” His eyes lingered on her ample curves.
“And?” she said, closing her robe a little tighter.
“It’s afire,” said the man. “King Toy of the Dead Rats and his enforcer, Sithe. They done searched it out, for swag and the like. Then they set it ablaze.”
“So?” she asked. “Why bring this to me?”
“Outsiders, too,” said the man. “Three. A girl with blue hair, a knight of Waterdeep, and a man in black with two knives and eyes like diamonds.”
“Speak not of him.” The Coin Priest clenched her fists. “He will be dealt with. Watch for a sign of the Horned One-you bring him directly to me, understand?”
The ugly captain smiled crookedly. “We’ve this, lady-found it in an alley.”
He held forth an ash-coated gold coin. Eden hardly needed to glance at it to know its origin: the coin Logenn had carried. So her man was dead, then. How tedious.
“Very well,” she said. “Leave me.”
They obeyed. The ugly captain lingered, his eyes suggestive, but she waved him away. Better to let his imagination try hard to please her. If he ever touched her again, like as not she’d rip out his eyes, tongue, or something he’d miss even more.
That could wait, however. She needed every man and woman she could spare searching for the Horned One-if only to determine his intentions in Luskan. She had a very important customer due to arrive any day now to take possession of a certain item. It would not do for the Horned One to interfere-where the Chosen of the Lady went, trouble would inevitably arise.