Crypt of the Shadowking Read Online Free PDF

jutting from a low bridge that spanned the narrow street. Mista trotted on, disappearing around a corner. Caledan hung for a moment and then heaved himself up onto the bridge with a grunt of effort.
    “I am definitely getting too old for this,” he groaned, his shoulders throbbing dully. He rolled over to peer down the alleyway. At first he could see nothing. Then out of the murkiness came his pursuer, padding lightly but quickly down the alley, hooded head moving from side to side, searching. When the figure was almost directly below him, Caledan stood up, throwing his cloak back over his shoulders.
    “Looking for someone?” he called out. Before his cloaked pursuer could react, Caledan leaped from the low bridge. The two went tumbling to the street. His pursuer was strong and wiry and almost managed to twist out of his grasp, but Caledan had the advantage of size. After a few moments of struggling his shadow was pinned beneath him.
    “Let go of me!” his captive shouted, taking a swing at him, but Caledan caught the blow before it landed.
    “Not until I find out why you were following me,” he said through clenched teeth, holding the person tightly by the wrists. His pursuer was silent for a long moment, then finally spoke in a low, husky voice.
    “I am seeking Caledan the Harper.”
    Caledan grunted, not missing a beat. “What makes you think I know him?”
    “Will you let me go?”
    “Only if you tell me who you are.”
    With a curse his captive angrily shook back the cloak’s concealing hood. Caledan drew in a sharp breath. His pursuer was a woman. He scrambled quickly to his feet. The woman fought to disentangle herself from the voluminous cloak, then stood to face him. She gazed at him hotly, fire dancing in her dark, smoldering eyes. She angrily brushed her dark auburn hair from her face and planted her hands firmly on her hips.
    “I’m Man Al’maren,” she said in her low, rich voice, “sent by the Harpers to find Caledan Caldorien. Satisfied?”
    Caledan leaned nonchalantly against the brick wall bordering the street. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. What would the Harpers want with him now, after all these years? His face remained impassive. “Really? So why were you following me?”
    The Harper woman angrily shed the remains of her tattered cloak. Beneath she was clad in a green velvet jacket and breeches of soft buckskin that matched her boots. A small silver pin, wrought in the shape of a crescent moon encircling a harp, glistened on her collar—the sigil of the Harpers.
    “I’m beginning to wonder the same thing myself,” she said disgustedly. “I thought there might be a chance you were the one I was searching for.”
    “This … er… what did you say his name was?” Caledan asked casually.
    “Caledan Caldorien,” the woman who called herself Man answered, kicking away the cloak and pacing the narrow alleyway in agitation. “Call me crazy, but with the way you dealt with that Zhen—er, that captain on the Street of Lanterns, I thought you might be Caldorien. He’s supposed to have been a great hero, you know. At least, that’s what all the stories tell.”
    “Oh, really?” Caledan asked, raising an eyebrow. No doubt they had sent Al’maren here to spy on the Zhents— that would be standard procedure—but Al’maren looked so wet behind the ears he was almost tempted to offer her a handkerchief. “So what makes you think now that I’m not the fellow you’re after?” Caledan went on. “Oh, please!” Mari said with a husky laugh, halting for a moment to stare at Caledan. “No offense, friend, but now that I’ve seen you up close you look more like a vagabond cutpurse than a hero of renown.”
    Caledan spread out his hands. “No offense taken,” he replied amiably.
    “Besides, if you really were Caldorien, you’d have a set of reed pipes with you,” she continued wearily. “You don’t happen to play the pipes, do you, scoundrel?”
    “I wouldn’t know