03 Downshadow by Erik Scott de Bie

Author:Erik Scott de Bie [Bie, Erik Scott de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

"No." Cellica smiled, apparently at the thought of Myrin. "No, she isn't."

Beshaba, Fayne thought, what is it that makes everyone cling to such pathetic waifs?

They continued north on the Singing Dolphin thoroughfare and turned east on the Streer of Lances. Fayne grinned at onlookers, whose responding srares she chose to interpret as jealous. They turned south again on Stormstar's Ride. At the end of the street, they saw the Temple of Beauty.

"Ye gracious gods," Cellica murmured, eyes wide. She reached across for Fayne's hand.

"Shiny, eh?" Fayne took Cellica's hand automatically, and the halfling clutched her tightly.

Sune's Waterdeep temple was best approached from Stormstar, Fayne thought, and particularly at this time of evening, when the last rays of the setting sun fell upon its ruby towers and gold-inlaid windows. And from the look on Cellica's face, she was right.

The great cathedral, palace, and pleasure dome towered over the noble villas alongside, shining like a beautiful star of architectural brilliance. Soaring towers and seemingly impossible buttresses made for a facade of true grandeur, which masked an open-air ballroom from which rhe sounds of revelry could be heard even from far away.

The halfling smiled wanly all the way until the carriage let them off.

"Aye?" Fayne grinned. "Pleased?"

But Cellica said nothing—she looked at her feet nervously.

The iron-faced dwarf attendant at the door looked at their invitation—which Fayne had forged—without any suspicion, then eyed them appraisingly. It was uncommon that two women came to a revel rogether, but hardly rare. "Who're you lasses supposed to be?"

"Olive Ruskettle!" Cellica peeped, then she went back to staring at the temple.

The guard nodded—he seemed at least to have heard of the "first halfling bard"—then looked at Fayne. He handed back the scroll. "And you, lass?"

"Aye?" Fayne gestured down—black leggings tucked into swashbuckler boots, billowy white shirt and black vest, scarlet half-cape and matching dueling glove—and flipped her magic-blacked hair. She grinned through her scarlet fox mask. "I'm not.. .famous?"

The guard shook his head.

"Good," Fayne said, and she kissed the dwarf on the lips. "Tymora's kiss upon you!"

They skipped inside, arm in arm, Fayne pulling Cellica along.

"Your names?" the herald asked Kalen and Myrin inside the courtyard. Music wafted across the open space from minstrels near the central staircase.

Kalen hadn't thought about such a question. "Ah—"

"Lady Alustriel of Silverymoon," Myrin said without hesitation. Smiling beneath her gold mask and crown, she took Kalen's arm.

The herald nodded. He peered at Kalen's ragged old armor with a touch of distaste. At least Kalen had let Cellica buy him a new cloak. "Of course, your ladyship."

He stepped forward and called to the assembled, "Alustriel of the Seven, and escort."

Heads turned—apparently, dressing as such a famous lady was daring—and Kalen felt Myrin stiffen. But most of the masked or painted faces wore smiles. There was even applause.

Myrin relaxed. "Good," she said, clutching her stomach.

"Outstanding," Kalen agreed, though he wasn't sure he meant it.

She smiled at him in a way that made his chest tingle.

In the courtyard, Kalen and Myrin looked out over a sea of revelers dressed in bright colors and daring fashions.

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