Curse of the Shadowmage by Anthony Mark Read Free Book Online Page B

hand. But the burn will scar. You will bear the mark of magic all your life.”
    Kellen nodded gravely. “I know.”
    “And if Caledan is angered at what I have done, send him to me and I will speak to him.”
    Kellen shook his head. “My father isn’t in the city, Morhion. He left last night on a journey for the Harpers. He’ll be gone for a tenday at least, if not more.”
    “I see. I didn’t know Caledan and Mari had a new mission.”
    “Mari didn’t go with him. She has her own assignment for the Harpers.” While Kellen’s voice was always solemn,
    now it seemed strangely sad as well. “I think it’s better this way. They were getting tired of arguing all the time.”
    Morhion stiffened, a peculiar tightness in his chest. Was there trouble between Mari and Caledan?
    As if reading the mage’s thoughts, Kellen went on. “Mari and my father have said good-bye to each other, Morhion. I think that, when they return from their current missions, she will leave Iriaebor forever.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t want her to go, but I suppose she has to.” -t “I see.” They were the only words he could manage. Mari and Caledan parting ways? The mage could hardly imagine such a thing. Yet that was not quite true, was it? For he had dared to imagine it—he, Morhion the traitor. A spike of shame pierced his heart.
    Kellen pushed himself from his chair and walked softly to where Morhion sat. He did a surprising thing then, putting his arms around Morhion’s neck and leaning against the mage’s shoulder. Morhion froze. He was not accustomed to such intimacy. You have dwelt too long in the cold isolation of magic, Morhion, he admonished himself. Tentatively, he enfolded the boy in his arms, returning the innocent embrace.
    For a time, after Kellen had left, Morhion sat gazing out the window, sipping spiced wine. Finally he rose and picked up the dark pebble, shutting it once more in its box. He knew that he had taken a risk in asking Kellen to touch the magestone. Yet, after the ease with which the boy had used the crystal to scry other worlds, Morhion’s curiosity had overwhelmed him. The stone had proven undeniably that Kellen was mageborn. Had he not been, the stone would have wounded him terribly or might even have struck him dead. Not only born to mage-craft, Kellen also had shadow magic in his blood. Each was a great power—and a great burden. Had the two talents ever combined before in one individual? And what
    would be the effects of their coexistence? Morhion did not know, but something told him the world of Toril had never before seen the likes of Kellen.
    Morhion returned the wooden box to its cabinet, then moved to a long table laden with neatly arranged rows of clay jars, glass vials, and copper crucibles. He had promised Mari he would examine a dark substance they had discovered in the Zhentarim hideout. He bent to his task and soon found himself caught up in the search for knowledge—mixing potions, weighing out bits of colored powder, heating ingredients over a candle flame. Magic was a pastime of which he never tired.
    Morhion paused, lifting a glass vial of the tarlike substance. So far, his tests had revealed that the substance was not magical itself, but that a faint residue of magic clung to it, as was typical of conjured matter. It was necessary to test the effects of the substance on a living creature.
    He reached into a wicker basket and drew out a wriggling white mouse. It blinked its red eyes fearfully. Morhion stroked its snowy fur, calming it with soft words, and slipped it inside a large glass bottle. The mouse scurried around the bottom of the bottle. Carefully, Morhion opened the vial and poured a single drop of the dark fluid into the bottle. Then he corked both vial and bottle. The mouse avoided the dark, sticky spot but otherwise seemed to suffer no harm. Apparently, the substance did not exude a poisonous humour.
    At last, Morhion turned his gaze from the bottle. It was time for