Free Curse of the Shadowmage by Anthony Mark

watching her intently. For a moment, the Harper realized how much he looked like his aunt Kera— far more so than he resembled his mother, Ravendas.
    “First Talek Talembar, now Kera,” Estah said in soft amazement. “What can these appearances mean, Mari?”
    “I’m not sure. But I don’t think this is a mere coincidence.” She gestured to the parchment before her. In it, she explained, were two disturbing pieces of news. The first concerned a strange occurrence in the village of Corm Orp. Apparently, some local harvest festival had descended into a riot in which several people were hurt. The details were unknown, but the villagers whispered of how shadows had come to life and attacked them. “Sound familiar?” Mari asked.
    “It sounds like the creatures you and Caledan saw in the Zhentarim hideout,” Estah agreed. She frowned in puzzlement. “But you said the creatures were dispelled. And there hasn’t been another murder in Iriaebor since you and Caledan left.”
    Mari took a deep breath. “I know. That brings me to the second report. Caledan was supposed to meet with a Harper operative in Corm Orp on the same day as the festival, to receive his orders. But Caledan never showed up at the appointed meeting place.”
    Estah clutched her apron worriedly. “What are you saying?”
    Mari gazed directly at the halfling innkeeper, her expression grim. “Caledan is missing.”
    It took a moment for the implication of this to register
    on the halfling. Then she gasped. “But you don’t… you don’t think the strange happenings in Corm Orp have anything to do with Caledan?”
    “I’m not sure what to think, Estah.” Mari squared her shoulders. She recalled Kera’s urgent words. Do not turn your back on him, Mari. “It’s time I paid a visit to someone I should have spoken to a long time ago. There’s only one person in Iriaebor who ever witnessed one of the murders and lived to tell about. I’m going to find out what he saw.” She pulled her cloak about her shoulders. “If he hasn’t been executed yet, that is.”
    An hour later, Mari picked her way down the slimy stone steps that led to the gaol beneath Iriaebor’s High Tower. Behind her came Morhion; she had fetched the mage on her way to the tower and filled him in on all she knew. Leading the way down the steps to the dungeon was another draftee—a big, bespectacled man with dark, coppery skin.
    “I hope you know I’m doing you an enormous favor, Mari,” the big man grumbled. He was as powerfully muscled as a warrior—in fact, he had been a warrior once— but now he wore the plain brown robe of a monk. Or, to be more exact, a Loremaster of Oghma. “It would be decidedly awkward if City Lord Bron’s chief advisor were to be caught sneaking around the dungeon at night to talk with murderers on death row.” He turned to glare at Mari. “In fact, I have half a mind to go back right now.”
    “Shall I cast that charm spell so he’ll be forced to do our bidding, Mari?” Morhion asked with a musing smile.
    She blinked at the taciturn mage’s rare display of humor, then laughed. Reaching up, she patted Tyveris’s cheek affectionately. Despite his dusky skin, the big man’s blush was clear to see. “No, thank you, Morhion,” she replied lightly. “I think I have our good monk suitably charmed already.”
    Tyveris scowled darkly, though his brown eyes glowed with devotion. “You never did play fair, Mari.”
    Of all the old members of the Fellowship of the Dreaming Dragon, Tyveris was the biggest and strongest, but he also had the softest heart. Years ago, the big Chultan gave up the sword he had never enjoyed wielding and became a man of learning—though, when necessity required, he could still bring down a running horse with his bare fists. Mari was awfully fond of him.
    The stairs ended, and the trio made their way down a dank, torchlit corridor. “Why do you want to talk to this thief, Mari?” Tyveris asked quietly. “I thought you