The City of Towers: The Dreaming Dark - Book I (10 page)

The dwarf moved to the railing, the goblin kicking and gasping in his grip. Daine planted his foot behind the dwarf’s knee and sent him tumbling to the ground. The girl darted behind Daine, huddling against the railing.

The dwarf rose to his feet. “Dorn’s teeth!” he swore, drawing a short sword with a well-worn edge. “You’ve just made a grave error, Mourner.”

The scarred woman was carrying a halberd, and she moved to flank Daine.

“I should watch you throw a girl to her death?”

“That’s no girl. It’s a goblin. The only reason she’s on this lift is to pick the pockets of fools like you. But I suppose you
can identify with that. I can’t imagine a Mourner trash having any proper business in the upper wards.” He studied Daine carefully. “You just struck an officer of the watch. I think you deserve another scar for that.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Daine studied his opponents, shifting so his back was against the railing. He reached for his sword—and remembered it was gone. Damn Jode!

“Go ahead,” the dwarf said. “Draw your knife, boy. Give me a reason to run you through.”

The lift came to a stop and the other passengers scurried off, leaving only Daine, Jode, the two guards, and the whimpering goblin girl.

The dwarf walked toward Daine as the lift moved again. “Not so bold now, are you?” He stared up into Daine’s eyes, putting the point of his blade against Daine’s throat. Daine looked down. The halberdier watched as a tiny spot of blood blossomed on Daine’s throat, and for a moment she lowered her guard.

Daine was waiting for an opening, but help came from an unexpected quarter. The goblin girl cried out and threw herself at the dwarf, clawing and biting at his leg. As the guardsman glanced down, Daine smashed his hand and sent his sword flying. The halberdier brought her point in line, then suddenly gasped and fell to the ground; unnoticed in the chaos, Jode had stepped up behind her and pierced her knee with his stiletto. While he spent most of his time treating injuries, Jode had a keen understanding of pain. He knew where it hurt and how to hit it. The woman dropped her weapon and clutched at her leg, oblivious to her surroundings.

“Let it go,” Daine said to the dwarf. “This can end now. No more harm done.”

The dwarf responded with an incoherent howl. He charged, but Daine ducked out of the way. Spitting with rage, the guardsman snatched the fallen halberd and charged again, blade leveled at Daine’s chest. At the last second, Daine spun out of the way. He grabbed the upper haft of the weapon and threw all his weight into it. He meant to disarm the dwarf, but he overestimated his opponent’s weight and momentum.
With a long cry, the dwarf went sailing over the railing and disappeared.

Daine ran to the edge of the lift, but there was nothing to be done. He turned around. “Jode!” he snapped. “Make sure that woman doesn’t bleed to death. Quickly! We’re getting off at the next stop.”

Jode seemed unperturbed as he bent to his task. “And here I thought I’d get to keep a feather.”

The goblin was crying. “You’re fine now,” Daine said, kneeling over her. “But you need to get up and get moving. You have a home?”

She nodded, brushing at her tears.

“Go straight home. Now. And don’t come back to this lift.
Ever
. Do you understand me?”

She nodded again.

A moment later, the lift came to the next stop. The goblin girl disappeared into the shadows of the street. Daine and Jode sauntered off as nonchalantly as possible, passing through the crowd waiting to board. Back on the disk, the semiconscious guard clutched her knee and moaned.

“What do you mean,
you saw her take it?”

“You didn’t?” said Jode. “It was such an obvious lift, I assumed it was a gift. You’re a soft touch, and I’m sure she needed the money just as much as we did.”

“Oh, this day just keeps getting better. You pawn my grandfather’s sword, convince me to take a job from
Alina
, watch as a pickpocket steals the money we received for expenses, and the best part? I just killed a member of the city guard.”

“You don’t know that. This is Sharn. The city guard very likely carries charms against such happenings.” He smiled mischievously. “Or maybe someone caught him?”

“Against falling hundreds of feet?”

Jode shrugged. “This is Sharn.”

Daine closed his eyes and groaned. They were sitting at a table in the Manticore, and now that they only had Jode’s original stake money from the morning, they were drinking water.

It wasn’t long before Pierce and Lei returned. “Was your mission successful, Captain?” Pierce inquired. Lei seemed lost in thought.

Jode answered for him. “Aside from Daine being a murderer and getting robbed by a little girl? I’d say so. We need to track down a smuggler, return some stolen goods, and if we succeed we’re looking at more money than you’d have made in another thirty years in the army.”

“I wasn’t paid for my service.”

“Proving my point. How about you? Any news?”

Pierce looked to Lei. When she said nothing, he continued. “The accusation was true. Lei has been outcast. No member of House Cannith will speak to her. However …”

“There is someone,” Lei said quietly. “An uncle. Jura. I haven’t spoken to him since I was a child. But now … he may be able to tell me what’s going on or get a message to Hadran for me. I haven’t seen Jura for a long time. He’s …” She paused, but couldn’t seem to find the right words. Finally, she looked up at Daine. “I’d appreciate it if you’d come with me.”

Daine stood up. “All right, but if you don’t mind, let’s avoid the area around the Den’iyas lift.”

Y
our Cannith lords may be brilliant artificers, but I can’t say much for their taste in architecture,” said Daine, examining the mansion. Built from black granite with walls carved to resemble a dense thicket of trees, Jura’s manor was named Darkhart Woods.

Lei said nothing.

At the gate to the mansion a warforged servant met them and led them inside without a word. Where Hadran’s servant was an imposing, bejeweled figure, this construct was a spindly assembly of wood and leather that seemed on the verge of falling apart. It smelled of mildew, and clicked and clattered with every motion.

Entering the manor was like walking into a swamp. The air was unnaturally warm and moist, and the smell of rotting vegetation filled their nostrils. Glistening ivy covered the walls, and woven rushes were spread in place of carpets. Globes of mystical energy lit the halls, but these were shuttered and the ambience was dark and wet.

“The man likes his plants,” Daine muttered. Why a man would spend good gold to grow weeds
inside
his house was beyond his understanding.

“Oh, Uncle Jura loves … plants,” Lei said absently. Her thoughts seemed far away.

After leading them through a green maze of hallways, the
warforged guide paused at a large pair of double doors and rapped sharply. The doors slowly swung open, propelled by invisible hands. A wall of mist hid the chamber beyond. Daine glanced at Lei, but she just shrugged. More Cannith tricks, he thought.

The warforged turned to them and bowed. “Lord Jura awaits you,” it said, its voice a raspy rustle.

The fog concealed a forest. When Daine stepped through the mist, his boot sank into muddy earth. A dense grove of trees spread out before him. Tendrils of mist drifted across the ground, and he could hear the sounds of insects and the rustle of birds and rodents all around.

“What is this?” he whispered, his dagger already in his hand.

“Don’t worry,” Lei said as she came through the mist behind him. “Uncle Jura?” she called, peering into the woods.

“Over here, girl.” The deep voice came from somewhere in the center of the grove. “Just follow the path. I’ll give you more light.”

With that, the sun came up—at least, the sky brightened to the color of full daylight. Studying the sky, Daine spotted a stone seam. They were standing in a vast chamber. The high domed ceiling was painted with a perfect illusion of a cloudy sky. Still, the mud seemed real enough.

Jode whistled. “Now, I’ve seen some fine shadow-work in my time, but this … do you know how much he must have spent just on the moisture? Do you think he can make it rain in here?”

Lei dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Hush. And don’t mention the trees. I’ll explain later.” She led the way down a wide, muddy path, and they passed beneath the canopy of the trees. After a few twists they came to a large clearing.

Jura Darkhart was waiting for them. He shared Lei’s coloring—pale skin and red hair—but otherwise the two couldn’t have been more different. Daine had seen corpses that looked healthier than Jura. The excoriate lord was
little more than a skeleton, with leathery skin stretched across protruding bones. His fine velvet clothing hung from his emaciated frame, and what little hair he had was concentrated in a scraggly beard. Jura sat crosslegged on an enormous wooden throne carved from the stump of a fallen dark wood tree. He had a small knife in one hand and a long darkwood staff laid across his legs, and he was whittling figures on the surface of the staff. He did not look up to acknowledge his guests.

“Greetings, Lord Jura!” Jode called out before Lei could speak. “Thank you for allowing us into your home. What a fantastic throne you have. Truly, I’ve never seen its equal.”

Lei gritted her teeth, but held her tongue.

Jura looked up from his work and studied the halfling carefully, his gaze lingering on Jode’s dragonmark. “It cost me dearly, Jorasco. It meant a great deal to my wife, rest her soul.” His voice was deep, but cold and emotionless.

“Did something happen to your wife, my lord? Allow me to extend my most sincere condolences. If we can—”

“Enough,” Jura said, and his cold gaze was enough to silence even Jode. He looked at Lei and ran one hand along his dark staff. “I trust you had good reason to disturb me, girl.”

“I … wanted to see how you were, Uncle.” The air was warm and full of moisture, and Daine could see sweat on her brow.

“Don’t insult me. I know why you’re here. You want to know about Hadran and why you’re not welcome at the family door anymore. And who better to talk to than old Jura, the last dog chased from the house?”

As he talked, Lei seemed to regain a little of her usual fire. “Spare me your self-pity, uncle, I’ve got troubles enough of my own. At least you have your own private palace to sulk in.”

Jura chuckled, a horrible, rasping sound. “At least you still have spirit, girl. Very well. Ask your questions.”

“Why won’t Hadran see me?”

“Because he died a week ago.”

Lei gaped at him, shocked to silence.

“I understand he was torn to pieces. The work of a wild beast,
perhaps—or a shifter of exceptional strength. Or a well-crafted homunculus, of course.”

Daine stepped up. “What are you saying? They can’t blame Lei for this?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jura said. “Even if she had been in Sharn, no one thinks she has the talent to build a homunculus with such power.”

“Then why?” Lei trembled with rage. “Why am I outcast?”

“Lower your voice, girl,” Jura said. “We may both be outcasts in the eyes of our house, but I am lord of this manor and I expect you to show proper respect.”