by Monte Cook
“Why?” Morhion asked darkly. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing, really,” Cormik replied, fidgeting with his numerous rings. “It’s just that we finally learned where Stiletto’s base of operations is located, and—”
“Where?” Mari interrupted him excitedly.
Before Cormik could answer, the crowd suddenly parted around them. Out of nowhere, a dozen figures materialized, each clad in black and bearing a brightly polished saber. With astonishing swiftness, the men in black encircled the companions. Mari swore. They were surrounded.
“Let me guess,” she whispered harshly. “Stiletto’s hideout is here in Soubar?”
“However did you guess?” Cormik replied as the thieves closed in.
Fourteen
“Look on the bright side,” Cormik offered with forced cheer. “At least we finally found this Stiletto character.”
“Actually, Cormik,” Jewel countered acerbically, “I think he found us first.”
Cormik rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Well, if you’re going to get technical about it, Jewel …”
Morhion ignored the two fractious crime lords as he paced around the octagonal chamber in which they were imprisoned. Earlier, the thieves had led the companions at sword point through Soubar’s muddy streets. Folk had scurried out of their path with averted eyes, which suggested that Stiletto’s thugs were well known—and well feared—in the settlement. The thieves had stopped before a rude tent. Inside, under a pile of refuse, was a trapdoor. The companions were forced down a spiral staircase and pushed through dim passages. At last they came to a chamber, and the thieves had sealed them inside.
The air in the chamber was chill. The room lay deep in the ground, where frost never loosened its cold grip on the soil, even in the warm months of summer. Walls, floor, and ceiling were all lined with seamless black marble flecked with crimson and gold. The door through which they had entered had vanished. Morhion ran a hand across one wall. The stone was so slick it felt almost oily, though it left no residue on his fingers.
“Can’t you cast some spell to get us out of here, Morhion?” Mari asked, her face drawn.
“I am afraid not. The walls have been infused with a powerful ward against magic.” Morhion frowned thoughtfully. “This stone seems familiar to me, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen it before.”
“Beneath Iriaebor, in the crypt of the Shadowking.”
Morhion turned to gaze sharply at Kellen. The boy ran a small hand over a dark column that looked as if it had been poured rather than carved. “There was stone just like this in the tomb below the city. I remember.”
Kellen was right. That was where Morhion had noticed the strangely slick marble before. It explained the aura of magical resistance that emanated from the stone. The crypt of the Shadowking had been permeated by just such an aura. But why was the same stone in this chamber?
The mage drew in a sharp breath. “Stiletto has been using the Shadowstar.”
The others stared at him. Before they could reply, a sharp sound shattered the silence. Cracks appeared in one wall, outlining the hidden door. The portal flew open. A dozen thieves slipped into the chamber, as dark and seemingly fluid as the strange marble, positioning themselves around the perimeter of the room. A figure clad from head to toe in a robe of flowing black silk stepped through the doorway. His shadow, cast by wavering torchlight, loomed larger than life on the wall behind him.
Morhion whispered the word. “Stiletto.”
“I see introductions will not be necessary,” the one called Stiletto said, his raspy voice muffled by the dark cowl that concealed his face. “For I certainly know the great mage Morhion Gen’dahar.” The dark cowl regarded each of the others in turn. “And here with him is Mari Al’maren, lately of the Harpers—but no longer I hear. And Kellen Caldorien, son of renowned Harper Caledan Caldorien. And Cormik One-Eye, proprietor of the Prince and Pauper in Iriaebor. And of course Jewel Talondim, the enchanting matriarch of the illustrious Talondim clan.”
Morhion had not expected Stiletto to know them. It seemed the underworld lord was omniscient as well as all-powerful.
“Why have you journeyed here seeking me?” Stiletto demanded.
The mage allowed himself a grim smile. “You know so much about us, Stiletto. Surely you know that as well?”
“Perhaps I already do, and merely wish to see if you will lie to me,” the dark-robed man snapped, but his words came too hastily, suggesting that in truth he did not know their purpose.
“Wait a minute,” Mari said suspiciously, her eyes narrowing as she studied Stiletto. “I can see how an underworld lord might know his rivals, like Cormik One-Eye and Jewel Talondim. And I can even see how he might keep track of Harper agents and those who work with them, which would explain why you know me and Morhion.” She took a step forward. “But it doesn’t make any sense that you would know the identity of an eleven-year-old boy.”
At those words, Morhion forgot the armed thieves surrounding them. Mari was right. Curiosity burned in his brain as he advanced on Stiletto. “Who are you?” he demanded in a low voice.
Stiletto began an indignant reply, but he never finished it. Kellen whistled three sharp notes of music and stretched out an arm. On the wall, the silhouette of his hand touched the shadow cast by Stiletto. Kellen flexed his fingers and Stiletto’s cowl was jerked back, revealing his startled visage. The crime lord was a small, weasely man with close-cropped brown hair, darting eyes, and crooked teeth. He grinned sheepishly as the companions stared in astonishment. At last, it was Jewel’s scathing voice that spoke.
“You have quite a bit of explaining to do, Ferret Talondim!”
* * * * *
“You’ve hurt her feelings terribly, you know,” Cormik murmured.
“I know,” Ferret replied sadly.
They were alone now; the little thief had sent his masked servants away. He cast a fleeting look at his grandmother. She stood on the far side of the octagonal chamber, where Mari and Kellen were doing their best to calm her. Jewel stalked lithely back and forth, looking almost like a dangerous violet panther in her dusk-purple leathers.
“Honor doesn’t mean much to thieves,” Ferret went on, “but blood does. I suppose my operations have been cutting into Grandmother’s business.”
Morhion gave the thief a hard look. “I think you err in judging the source of your grandmother’s ire, Ferret. Whatever she might say, I imagine she cares little enough for any gold you have cost her. I would say she is angry at the grief you have caused her by letting her believe that you were dead.” Mari cast a furious look in their direction. “And I suspect Jewel may not be the only one to feel that way,” the mage added meaningfully.
Ferret swallowed hard. “Perhaps I acted recklessly. I suppose, now that Grandmother knows I’m not really dead, she’ll go ahead and kill me anyway.”
Across the room, Jewel let out a particularly blistering array of expletives. Cormik raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You may be right.” He laid a ring-laden hand on Ferret’s bony shoulder. “Unless, of course, you go over right now and speak to her. You are her grandson, after all. And her favorite, from everything I’ve heard. That might still count for something.”
Ferret nodded uneasily. “I suppose it’s worth a try. If nothing else, maybe if I beg for mercy she’ll make my demise a little less painful.”
Morhion poked a finger against Ferret’s chest. “And when you’ve finished explaining things to Jewel, you can start explaining them to the rest of us. Last we knew, you were lost in the destruction of the Shadowking’s crypt beneath Iriaebor. I’m very interested to learn how you got from there to here, and you’re going to satisfy my curiosity. Understood?”
Ferret’s eyes bulged out. “I hope you’re not expecting me to say I’m looking forward to it.”
“Frankly,” Morhion countered, “I’d be happier if you were dreading it.”
“You would, Morhion,” Ferret said with a grimace and scurried
across the room.
Morhion allowed himself the bare suggestion of a smile. It was good to see the little thief again. The world had been a duller place without him.
Mari approached, gripping Kellen’s hand. “Let’s give Jewel and Ferret a little space,” she suggested, and they withdrew to the far side of the room. It was only a short while later that Jewel and Ferret strode toward them. The weasely thief was grinning his crooked-toothed grin, and now the matriarch of the Talondim clan was smiling as well, though there was a slightly perturbed light in her eyes.
“It’s all right,” Ferret pronounced in his raspy voice. “We’ve made up.”
“That was quick,” Morhion noted dubiously.
“He didn’t play fair,” Jewel complained.
“What do you mean?” Mari asked.
“He kissed my cheek and told me that he loved me,” Jewel said, as if this were a tremendous outrage.
Ferret beamed. “Even a grandmother as remarkable as my Jewel can’t resist kisses from her favorite grandchild.”
A scowl cast a shadow across Jewel’s ageless face. “You always were the slyest scion of my clan,” she muttered.
Cormik adjusted his jewel-encrusted eyepatch. “I hate to interrupt this sweet but twisted family reunion, but perhaps it’s time we told Ferret why we were searching for ‘Stiletto’ in the first place.”
Minutes later, they gathered in a sumptuously appointed chamber deep in the underground warrens that were Ferret’s—or Stiletto’s—hideout.
“Not bad,” Cormik said with grudging approval as he eyed the room’s mahogany furniture and thick tapestries. “Not bad at all, for an amateur.” Cormik, of course, was an expert on luxury.
Soon the companions were seated in comfortable chairs, sipping rich red wine. Morhion savored his glass. It had been a long time since he had drunk such an exquisite vintage. He wondered when, if ever, he would have such an opportunity again. Despite himself, he cast a fleeting glance at Mari. Her eyes were intent on Ferret as the thief began recounting what had befallen him after they defeated the Shadowking in the tomb beneath Iriaebor.
“It was only last year, Mari, that I finally learned you had survived the bolt of magic that Lord Snake struck you with in the Shadowking’s tomb,” Ferret explained in his raspy voice. “I was glad to hear it. When Caledan and Morhion and the others ran from the crypt with you in their arms, I thought you were dead. Of course, when those stone doors shut, trapping me inside the tomb, I thought I was dead, too. The entire place was coming down around my ears. I was certain I was a goner. So I said to myself, ‘All right, Ferret, my boy—if you’re about to cough up the ghost and head to that big dungeon in the sky, you might as well go in style.’ ”
He rubbed his nimble hands together. “I dodged the falling stones and grabbed all the burial treasure—gold and silver and jewels—that I could find, making a big pile. Then I sat on the pile, thinking that at least I had everything I ever wanted in life, and waited for the rock that would bash my brains.” Ferret paused, his beady eyes glowing. “That was when I saw it.”
Morhion murmured two words. “The Shadowstar.”
“So that’s what it’s called,” Ferret said softly. “Of course—what else would it be named?” After a pause, he went on. “I looked down, I don’t know why, and saw a strange medallion half-buried in the heap of treasure. It was dark and shining at the same time, and without even thinking, I picked it up.” Ferret’s pointed noise crinkled in thought. “I’m not sure if it really used words, but it talked to me. At first I wasn’t certain what it was saying. It’s a little hard to concentrate when one is caught in a shower of boulders and is expecting to get flattened like a bug at any second. After a few moments, I realized that it—the medallion, the Shadowstar—was asking me something.” His beady eyes went distant. “It was asking me if I wanted it to take me away from the crumbling tomb. Needless to say, I answered yes.” He shook his head in wonder. “The next thing I knew, the crypt was gone, and I was sitting on a hill north of Soubar. What was more, the medallion had brought the pile of treasure along.”
“How thoughtful of it,” Cormik muttered darkly. “So that’s where you found the capital to set yourself up as a crime lord. That really wasn’t fair, you know. It took me years to get to that point in my career.”
Ferret gave an unimpressed shrug. “I never knew thieving was about fairness, Cormik,” he said dryly. “It’s a fascinating theory. You’ll have to convene a council of guildmasters and tell them all about it. I’m sure they’ll be quite receptive to the idea.”
“Oh, quit rubbing it in,” Cormik said petulantly. “I’m just jealous, of course. You needn’t chastise me for it. It’s perfectly natural, after all.”
“You’re right, Cormik,” Ferret conceded. “The gold did give me the foundation for building up quite a profitable business. Of course, all the money in the world is nothing if you don’t have a natural talent for the illicit and illegal, which fortunately I do.”
“You come by it honestly,” Jewel said proudly. “Or dishonestly, as the case may be.”
Ferret flashed a crooked smile at her. “But that wasn’t all.” His smile faded into an uncharacteristically solemn expression. “I think the Shadowstar had a hand in things. For one, the local master thief conveniently dropped dead the day I strolled into Soubar. Nothing completely impossible ever happened. It just seemed that every time there was a chancy situation that could go for or against me, it always went for me. And, well”—he gestured to the opulent furnishings around them—“this is the result.”
“Why didn’t you let us know you were alive?” Mari asked in exasperation.
Ferret scratched his chin nervously. “I was going to, really. It’s just that I started to realize being dead has its advantages. It was like being given a completely fresh start. Everyone thought the thief Ferret had met his demise, and no one knew anything at all about the man Stiletto. The fact is, I’ve found that an aura of mystery is a great weapon. No one knows what to expect from you, so they always expect the worst. That tends to make them a little more … er, pliable.” He sighed. “I suppose that’s all over now.” Ferret shook his head, dispelling his momentary melancholy. “But you still haven’t told me why you’ve been searching for me. And by the way, where’s Caledan?”
Morhion exchanged grim looks with the others. “You might wish to pour yourself another glass of wine before we explain …”
When at last Morhion had finished recounting all that had befallen, Ferret appeared visibly shaken. “Poor Caledan,” he whispered sadly.
“You can understand why we are glad to have reached you before Caledan did,” Morhion said. “The Shadowstar is the key to halting or completing his metamorphosis. With it, we should be able to—”
“You can’t have it!” Ferret snapped suddenly. As if by dark magic, the little thief’s usually cheerful face was transformed into a pale mask of suspicion. He retreated into a corner, crossing his arms and glaring at them with calculating eyes. “I should have known all along that was what you wanted, to come here and rob me. Well I won’t allow it! I’ll call my servants before I let you touch any of my treasure.” A look of pure greed crossed his face. “I found the medallion. I rescued it from the tomb. The Shadowstar is mine!” His hand strayed to the jeweled dagger at his belt as the others stared in shock. None had ever seen Ferret behave this way.
There was a tense moment of silence. At last, Jewel stepped forward. “That’s not like you, Ferret,” she said quietly, her violet eyes intent. He gripped the hilt of the dagger more tightly, staring at her with a mixture of fear and hatred, like a cornered animal. Jewel continued to approach him, speaking calmly.
“Greed is a thief’s worst enemy, Ferret. You know that. It was the first lesson I ever taught you. A covetous thief is a dead thief. We commit thievery for our livelihood, and that’s all. As soon as the objects we steal become dearer to us than life, it is our own lives that are stolen.” Slowly, she reached out to
touch his hand.
Ferret stared at her with a look of utter terror and loathing. For a moment he gripped the knife with white-knuckled hands. Then he shuddered violently and let go of the dagger. He passed his hand before his face. The look of violence vanished.
“I’m … I’m so sorry, Grandmother,” he said haggardly. “I don’t know what came over me. I must be tired, that’s all.” He turned toward Morhion. “Of course you can have the Shadowstar, Morhion, if you think it might help Caledan.”
Morhion only nodded. He watched the little thief thoughtfully. Once, a thousand years ago, the Shadowstar had transformed a simple minstrel into the Shadowking. Ferret had possessed the medallion only a short time, but the thief had not gone untouched by its dark influence.
Ferret led them out of the chamber and through the twisting labyrinth of his hideout. Soon they came to a door hewn of a single massive slab of the same strangely slick black marble they had seen before. “I keep all my greatest treasures in here,” Ferret explained. “The Shadowstar created the door for me. It will open only at my touch.”
He placed his hand in a circular depression in the center of the marble slab. There was a hissing of air. Then the door parted along an unseen crack and swung silently open. Ferret took a torch from a nearby sconce and led the way. Inside the circular chamber were chests filled with glittering gems, stacks of priceless antique furniture, and heaps of ornate weapons forged from precious metals. In the center of the chamber was a pedestal upon which rested a black velvet cushion, and on the cushion rested …
Nothing.
“By Shar!” Ferret swore in disbelief. “It’s gone! The Shadowstar!”
“But how?” Mari demanded. “I thought you said that only you could open the door.”
“A door created by shadow magic,” Morhion added pointedly. From beneath his shirt, he drew out the ruby amulet. It glowed a brilliant crimson. “Caledan was here,” he said grimly.
“I don’t think we really need your amulet to tell us that,” Jewel replied, pointing to the far wall. A patch of stone looked as if it had melted and resolidified, forming the shape of a grotesque mouth that gaped open in a silent, frozen scream.
