Fourteen years ago, Barnslow, Neverwinter Territory

Kyla did not leave before dawn, as she'd promised her mother. The next several days went by as a blur. Kyrwan barely heard anything said to him, or saw anything that was going on. Every step on the walkway to the house was the crackling of neckbones, every bird taking flight was Mum leaping. He went places when Kyla took him by the hand and led him there. To the table to eat. To bed at night. To the gravedigger's. To the cemetery outside the ramshackle temple of Chauntea where they put Mum in the ground. Otherwise, he sat by the window, watching in dread for when Dad came home.

On the fifth day, Kyla put her hand on his shoulder. "We're leaving," she said.

He turned to look at her, "Where are we going?"

"Do you remember my friend Nimita?" she asked.

"She went to Luskan the last time the border changed, after the last war," Kyrwan said.

"Yes, she married that Luskan soldier who was stationed here. I'm surprised you remember that," Kyla replied.

"I'm eight, not stupid," Kyrwan replied.

"She says there's a place I can work there," Kyla said, "And I can find us a flat to rent. You can go to school, a proper school, not just that group Mrs. Quarely holds once a week. There's so much more opportunity in the big city."

Kyrwan instinctively recoiled from the suggestion of 'school,' but given what had happen over the past several days, the idea of sitting in an orderly room with other children, solving problems in a neat, orderly world, where two plus two always equaled four, was appealing.

"What kind of job?" he asked. Kyla was a talented gardener and housekeeper. Maybe she'll get a job at a rich house, and we'll live in the servants quarters in the mansion.

"It's at a tavern," Kyla said, vaguely, "It's a lot of money. More than Dad makes. We're not going to be rich, but things will be better than they are here. I promise you that."

"I don't want to stay here with Dad," he said.

"I wouldn't let you even if you did," Kyla said, "You're my little boy, all right? And I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"I'm not a little boy," Kyrwan said, but let his sister take him into her arms, though he was almost big enough that she couldn't lift him, and kiss him on the cheek.

They left Barnslow under dead of night, taking with them all of Mum's jewelry. Everything else they left. It was a long walk with Kyrwan's short legs, but he was careful never to complain. Kyla had looked peaked ever since they'd buried Mum, she was pale, and ill. She would often wake him up in the mornings getting up, walking far away from the camp, and vomiting in the bushes. She also cried at night, after she thought he was asleep. He did his best to pull his weight and not give her anything else to worry about. At night they camped, he went hunting, arming his slingshot with smooth rocks from the river and taking down three wild pigeons. He boiled them, like he'd seen Mum do with chickens, so the feathers fell out, and roasted them over the fire. Kyla smiled and patted his head and praised him, but couldn't keep any of it down. So he ate his pigeon, and tried not to worry. We'll find her a doctor in Luskan when we get there.

They arrived in Luskan early in the morning on the sixth day. What struck Kyrwan first was the smell, smoke and garbage and the salt smell of the sea. Kyla smelled it too, he could tell by the way she walked carefully, not wanting to set off the nausea that had plagued her ever since they'd left Barnslow. He'd never seen anything like it, all the houses stuck so close together, the tall towers uphill, the mighty river Mirar moving slowly but powerfully through the center of town. They arrived through the eastern gate, and made their way down the sloping cobblestoned streets to the docks, where Kyla checked an address against the scrap of paper she was carrying. The address was a building, five stories, the fourth and the fifth obvious additions, leaning over the road and casting it into shadow. She knocked at the door.

It was answered by a man in his forties, fat and long-haired.

"So you're Kath's new girl?" he asked. His voice was high, almost like a woman's. Kyrwan covered his mouth to keep from laughing, "And this is your son?"

"My brother," Kyla corrected him.

"And it's just the two of you?" he asked.

"Yes," Kyla said, "Just him and me."

"Very well, a flat at the end of the hall on the third floor just emptied out. You'll have to be over at the Cuckoo's nest later, before sundown is preferable. Rent is 25% of your pay, and you'll have to part with another 5% for a room over the tavern. Kath likes her girls to maintain a place there, just in case," the man said, "Washrooms are out back in the shed. Firewood's provided, but if you prefer cooking over oil or coal you'll have to pay for that yourself. Here's the keys." The man handed over two keys, identical. Kyla hurried up the stairs, Kyrwan on her heels.

The flat small, the size of the two largest rooms in their house in Barnslow put together. But, Kyrwan reasoned, city living was different. They didn't need store rooms, because you could buy food year round. They didn't need a barn because nobody had to work in a barn. It was one large room with two alcoves with beds in them. A large fireplace took up most of the outside wall, where a window looked out over the town and into the harbor, where tall ships were docked. He pressed his nose to the glass, fascinated by the ships, their masts reaching towards the sky, the bowsprits stuck out in front of them, and the figureheads looking sternly over the town.

"Are there still pirates here?" he asked Kyla.

"I don't know," she replied. She'd sat down on one of the beds and was massaging her feet and ankles, "I suppose as long as there are ships and towns to rob, there will be pirates."

"I want to be a pirate," he said, thinking on images of ragged seamen with gold in their ears and curved swords, fighting the Neverwinter and Luskan navies for control of the Sea of Swords.

"You'd have to eat rats and weevils," Kyla said, "Not nice things like we do here."

"I wouldn't have to go to school."

"Even pirates have to go to school," Kyla said, "Otherwise how will you be able to count how much gold you've stolen?"

She had a point, he had to concede. He went back to her and busied himself with unpacking the few things they'd brought with them.

"Now, I need to tell you a few things," she said, "You're a big boy now, and I'm going to have to work, so I'll be leaving you alone at nights. I know you know how to feed yourself, and you know not to let any strangers in. I'll take you to school myself tomorrow, to make sure you know how to get there. You know how to build a fire and keep the place clean, and I'll be relying on you to do that." She took one of the bronze keys and tied a piece of twine from her pack through the hold at the top, so it was just the size for Kyrwan to slip around his wrist. She handed it to him, "Don't lose this. I'm trusting you, because you've always done what's right before, and you're a good boy despite yourself, I think."

"Yes, Kyla," he said.

"This is an opportunity for us, Kyrwan," she said, "In Barnslow you wouldn't have had any choice but to become a butcher like Dad, or maybe a tanner if you were lucky. Here, you can be anything you want to be. You can go to a real school, you can learn to be a bookkeeper or a navigator or great scholar."

"Or a pirate."

"Yes, or a pirate, but a pirate that can do complicated math and read all of the great literature," she said, "I need you to do this for me, Kyrwan. You have a real chance here, like I never did. Promise me you'll do your best."

"I promise," he said.

"Good," she said, "Now let's go exploring."

He followed her through the narrow streets of the Luskan Docks. First, they went to a dress shop owned by a young seamstress. He hung back in the corner, his face scarlet to be seen at a woman's shop like this, while Kyla picked out a fine dress, finer than the coarse wool and cotton shifts she'd worn as the butcher's daughter of Barnslow. Then they went to the green grocer's and bought some vegetables. They were sorry-looking compared to the ones that Kyla had grown in her garden, but they would do. The final stop was at an apothecary's shop. By this time it was dark out, and the lamplighters had come around to the major streets, but the back alley where the apothecary was located was lit only by the lights from the open windows on the top floors. Kyla made him wait outside, where he stood, kicking stones along the street.

It happened in such a hurry that he wasn't sure what it was he'd just seen. A boy ran down the street. He was in his mid teens, and wearing a black cloak. As he sprinted past, Kyrwan caught a glimpse of a ring on his finger with an insignia of a circle of blades. He reached the end of the street, where it ended in a dead end. Kyrwan heard him utter a whimper of fear as he realized he was trapped. Rather than give up, the boy started to climb, trying to get from the street to the rooftops and escape, but a bolt of magic hit him in the back and knocked him to the cobblestones where he landed with a loud crack.

"You pathetic fool," a voice came from up the street. Bishop looked to see a middle-aged man dressed in the robes of a mage walking slowly towards the boy, "I will send your heart back to the Circle of Blades in a box for daring to make an attempt for the life of one of the Hosttower!"

The boy writhed in pain as he tried to rise, "It was ordered," he said.

"I don't give a damn what was ordered," the mage growled. He started to weave a spell, the purple energy glowing between his hands. He stood there, silent a moment.

"Please," the boy begged, "Please, spare me. I'm to be married..."

"Then at least you'll have someone to mourn for you," the mage said, "Pathetic assassins, sending a beardless apprentice after me! Such an insult."

Kyrwan didn't quite know what spurred him into actions. Perhaps it was the boy's obvious pain, or the arrogant smirk with which the mage spoke, but without first thinking, he ran up and jumped on the mage's back, putting his arm around his throat and interrupting the spell. He clung on for dear life as the mage tried to shake him off. The boy scrambled to his feet. A knife flashed in the dull light from the windows, and then it was buried in the mage's chest. Kyrwan jumped off before he fell. The mage died quickly with a guttural rattle, his life blood spilling from the wound and running in tiny rivers between the cobblestones.

"You saved my life," the boy said, turning to Kyrwan, "Why?"

"I didn't like him," Kyrwan said, "Please don't hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you, kid," he said. He was fairly tall, with bright green eyes and blond hair tied back against the nape of his neck, "I'm sorry you had to see that. People usually don't let their children wander the streets alone this late at night. Where's your mother?"

"My mother's dead," he said, "My sister is in the shop there." He pointed to the apothecary shop.

The boy nodded slowly, glancing up at the shop, "Your sister's gotten herself into some trouble then. Are you new here?"

"Just arrived this morning," Kyrwan said, "From Barnslow."

"Ahh, a Neverwinter lad!" the boy said, "I'm from there myself. West Harbor. Look, you've saved my life. I don't have any money, but I'll do you a good turn one day, I promise."

Kyla exited the shop at that moment, looking even more exhausted than before. She carried a small package under her arm. She froze, taking in the river of blood on the street, the corpse of the mage, and the teenage assassin.

"Is this your sister?" the boy asked.

Kyrwan nodded. Kyla looked at him suspiciously, "What's going on?" she asked.

"Your little brother saved my life," he said, "And so I owe him – and you by proxy – a debt. What's your name?"

"Kyla Bishop," Kyla said, extending a hand. The boy shook it.

"My name's Dayven Elhandrien," he said, "Where do you work?"

"The Cuckoo's Nest," she said.

"Ah! I know that place well, I'm good friends with Kath, the owner. I imagine I'll be seeing you there!"

"I imagine you will," Kyla said, "You're a little young for the drink, aren't you?"

"I'm seventeen," Dayven replied, puffing up his chest.

"Huh," Kyla replied, "Well very well then, I appreciate you not getting my brother into any more trouble that is needed. We'll be going now, before anyone else gets killed."

"This is Luskan, sweetheart," Dayven said, "Someone's bound to be killed sometime soon."

"I'll take my chances," Kyla said, "I'll see you around, Master Elhandrien."

"I'm sure I will," Dayven replied, "And your brother too."