“No I don’t.” She veritably trembled. “I need to do this! I need-”
“Myrin, you’re allowed to be upset,” Kalen said. “You just killed a man.”
“That’s debatable,” she said. “Whether I killed him, I mean.”
“Myrin.” Kalen took her shoulders in his hands, seizing her attention. “Rest.”
Myrin twisted away. “Did you know you wouldn’t turn to dust when you touched me?”
Kalen shrugged. He hadn’t even thought about it.
“Well.” Myrin broke their linked gaze. “Fine-I’ll drink something. Here.”
She put out her hand and a half-drunk bottle of wine floated to her. She caught it and tipped it over her mouth.
“Easy!” Kalen took the bottle away after she drained two big gulps. “Know your body and its limits.”
“I know my body,” Myrin said. “I just-I want to know me!” Myrin’s images swirled. She had to assert her will to pull them back into order. A vein bulged at her temple. “These memories are who I am, don’t you see? Look at this one … and this!”
She waved two images forward-the blue-gleaming girl she’d been in the alley in Waterdeep, wreathed in flame, and another Myrin, crouching and struggling to hold a magical shield against a necromantic assault.
“I hardly recognize those women,” Myrin said. “I mean, that’s me, but look how powerful I am. Can you imagine, Kalen, if I could unlock that power? How much good I could accomplish!” Her words slurred as she spoke. “Kalen, I feel dizzy.”
Her images vanished. She reeled and might have fallen onto the bed if he hadn’t caught her in his arms. She murmured, and he lowered her to the blankets.
“It hurts, Kalen,” she said. “Why does it hurt so much?”
“Killing should never be easy,” Kalen said.
“That’s just it,” Myrin said. “I didn’t kill him. He … he was carrying something inside him, and … I just wish I could remember!”
“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Kalen said.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “Perhaps I’m being a fool. This city, Toytere … Gods, you must think I’m a fool.” She sagged back and covered her face with one hand.
“I don’t,” Kalen said. “I don’t understand why you’d trust Toytere, who’d sell you for a few silvers, but neither do I doubt you. You must have a reason.” He thought of Flick instructing food to be sent to the needy. “You’ve made me believe.”
Myrin offered a wan smile. “I have to believe people can change,” she said. “It’s like Rhett said: you cannot expect a man to become better than he is, if you do not trust him. And I have to trust you or …”
“You mean Toytere,” Kalen said.
Myrin furrowed her brow. “What?”
“When you say ‘you,’ you mean Toytere.”
Myrin gave him a faraway look. “I’ve-I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“You need rest.” He pulled the light blanket over her.
“Aye, that might help.” She put out her hands. “My grimoire, please.”
Kalen noted her spellbook, bound in leather dyed bright pink. He smiled at her resolve, even if he was not about to give her that book. “You need rest, not spells.”
“Ooh!” She stuck out her tongue. “Just a little reading before sleepies.” She clasped her forehead. “Gods, did I really just say that? Out loud?”
“Friends do not let friends weave world-destroying magic from their cups.”
“Heh!” Myrin hiccupped loudly. She covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
Kalen stood but Myrin caught his wrist. Power tingled in her fingers. Even he, with his layers of dead flesh, could feel the warmth of her touch.
“Is that what we are, Kalen?” she asked. “Friends?”
“What else?” Kalen pulled the blankets up to her chin.
“Well …” Myrin pursed her lips. “Do friends lie next to friends who’ve had too much to drink while they go to sleep? And hold them very tightly?”
He stared at her a long, long moment, fighting to find the right words.
Finally, he brushed an errant blue hair out of her eyes. “No,” he said.
“No?” She gazed at him, saddened. “Are you sure?”
He sat beside her and put out his arm. “They do, however, sit next to friends who’ve had too much to drink. Just until they fall asleep.”
“Oh.” Myrin smiled wanly. “Well then, some of that, if you will.”
She settled into the crook of his arm, her head resting comfortably on his stomach. He couldn’t feel her exactly-not physically-but his spellscar eased as though content, making him more comfortable. She radiated a warmth and ease that made him sleepy as time passed. His worries about Toytere, Eden, and this wretched city drifted, seeming to lose importance as he listened to her steady breathing. He trailed his fingers along her back. She murmured something, then snuggled into him and relaxed further.
From the dimming light through the cracks in the wall, Kalen realized some time had passed. The Luskan day wore on, a morass of chaos around their moment of peace. He had things to do and he couldn’t sit here with Myrin all day-even if he wanted to.
He thought she’d fallen asleep, but when he shifted, Myrin’s lips parted. “I know what happened,” she said. “To Umbra, I mean.”
Kalen nodded. “What?”
“I didn’t kill him. At least, I don’t think I did,” she said. “He died long ago, but the thing inside him-a piece of me, left for me to find-preserved him. But that piece is like a treasure chest I don’t remember how to open. I just don’t.”
“A piece of you?” Kalen asked. “Who left it? Do you know?”
“I think-” Her voice was heavy with sleep. “I think I did.”
Her breathing fell into regular rhythms.
He thought about what Myrin had said-about what she had told him and what she had almost told him. He thought about trust and being a better person.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.
He slid aside to let her lie alone on the bed, took a pair of manacles from his belt and bound her wrists behind her back.
By day, the Whetstone seemed almost habitable, without the jangling noise and smoky darkness that filled it by night. It made a much worse meeting place at such times, but Eden’s hint to meet here had been clear.
“If possible-and I’m by no means allowing that it is,” Eden said from across the smoke-tainted table. “You look worse than last we met.”
Toytere certainly felt awful. He itched all over, particularly in his arm. He hadn’t slept well in days, thanks to awful dreams of stalking the streets, constantly thirsting for violence. Still, he would remain in control, however much he wanted to rage and strike at someone. And, oh gods, how he wanted to leap across the table and tear out Eden’s throat with his teeth.
“You be speaking your piece,” he said shakily, “or this meeting be done.”
“Indeed.” Eden smirked unprettily. “But about Kalen-you seemed surprised.”
“You knew Little Dren was in the city,” Toytere said. “Yet you didn’t be mentioning your familial tie. ’Tis a dangerous game you be playing.”
“Not as dangerous as you’d think,” Eden said. “You’ll reconsider our bargain?”
“That seems unlikely.” Toytere scoffed. “I told you, deal’s off-”
“My dear halfling,” Eden said. “You’re not seeing the full picture.”
She drew from her robe a yellow-stained scroll.
“What be that?” Toytere asked.
“Something that came into my possession only this night,” she said. “A cure.” Toytere’s mouth dropped open. “But-”
“You have the Fury, halfling,” she said. “Your resolve is remarkable, but the disease is greater than you. You have a day, perhaps another, but soon you’ll go mad and perish. Unless-” She tapped the scroll on the table. “Well?”
Toytere felt like a rat caught in a snare.
“One day, you’ll see yourself the way I see you,” Myrin had said.
His wrist ached something fierce. He felt boiling anger inside.
“What must I do?” he asked.