The Queen of Stone: Thorn of Breland (22 page)

Perhaps it hadn’t agreed with Beren after all. Whatever the reason, he’d been in a foul mood ever since, restless and aggressive. Toli hadn’t shaved, and he was unusually sullen; Thorn wondered if there’d been another argument with the Thranes after she’d left the feast. When she made a joking inquiry about the late night, the two simply grunted and shrugged it off.

So far, the day had been a tedious one. As Sora Katra had promised, the envoys were given the opportunity to talk to the warlords about matters at hand. The oni Tzaryen Rrac discussed issues of trade and tariffs on Droaamish goods. Gorodan Ashlord was debating the merits of the Code of Galifar—confirming that citizens of Droaam would be protected in nations that operated under the code, and debating the relative merits of adopting the system in Droaam itself.

To make matters worse, the crystal shard at the base of her spine was troubling her. Thorn’s neck burned with anger, but the lower stone was an icy dagger grinding against the bone. Finally she excused herself and left the conference hall, walking until she was out of earshot of any guards.

“Living in these caves, you’d probably never see a sunset,” she muttered.

Steel picked up on the code.
We are not being observed
.

“That you know of.” Thorn lowered her voice until she was barely whispering.

Correct. When do you plan to take action?

“Even if the statue is in Sheshka’s quarters, I can’t just haul it out through the latrine. I’ll need her there to break the enchantment. So—tonight.”

Reasonable
, Steel said.
Why are we out here?

“Because if I had to spend another minute listening to Lord Tharsul trumpeting the virtues of the Code of Kaius, we might have had an assassination on our hands. And where are the Darguuls? I haven’t seen Munta all day.”

Not a good sign, considering Sora Katra’s demonstration last night. Is that your only concern?

“No.” Thorn had spent much of the morning retracing the events of the previous night, and something was troubling her. “During the fight last night, when the ogre tried to grab me … I felt a surge of strength, of tremendous physical power. Were you responsible for that?”

No. I can do nothing to enhance your prowess in combat, aside from serving as a sharp object
.

“And you don’t know what happened?”

It’s difficult to study magical auras when you’re being thrust into the eye socket of an elf. Could you have imagined it?

“Possibly … except for the part where I threw the ogre across the room.” What truly bothered her was that the sensation had been familiar. Her muscles felt as if they were on fire, as if she were filled with a power her flesh could barely contain.

The feeling she’d had in the dream, when she killed Drego Sarhain.

She had nothing more to say. As she neared the diplomats’ hall, a handsome man in black attire stepped out of the chamber.

“Lady Tam,” Drego said. “I hoped we could have a moment alone. You left the feast quite early in the evening.”

“I shouldn’t have taken a chance on the shellfish, I suppose. I spent most of the evening in the privy.”

He reached out, placing a hand on her arm. Thorn didn’t pull away; she could feel the tension in the air and in his touch.

“Nyrielle,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “We began something in the Duurwood. I’d hoped we could continue it. I know you were defending your countryman the other day, but if we want the war to be over, we need to work together.”

“And what did you have in mind?”

“During the Duurwood incident, the elf implied that one of the other warlords had turned on the Daughters—and might threaten the delegates. I had some trouble with indigestion myself last night, but I chose to walk it off.”

“If I could turn invisible whenever I wanted, I might have done that as well,” Thorn said.

“I wanted to know more about Tzaryen Rrac. I felt some hostility during the feast. Certainly, he wasn’t telling us everything. So I followed him after he left the hall.”

“Considering that all the envoys seem to be alive, should I assume that you defeated him in heroic battle?”

“Of course,” Drego replied, raising his chin in mock arrogance. “Then I resurrected him so no one would guess. No, I saw nothing suspicious at all. No unusual behavior or secret conversations … he doesn’t even have an army here. I don’t think he’s the target.”

“That leaves the medusa and the giant, if the elf is to be believed.”

Drego raised a finger to her chin, gently turning her face up toward him. Bold, Thorn thought. One set of instincts suggested that she drive her heel into his instep and follow with an elbow to the throat. Another part of her had different ideas. He was confident, handsome—and, it seemed, good at what he did.

“What about you?” he said. “Did you learn anything last night?”

“You
really
don’t want to know what I saw last night.” She gently pushed his hand from her chin. “It’s nothing relevant to our shared goals.”

“So you do have your own agenda!” he said. “Just like that unfortunate Karrn. Let it go. You saw what Sora Katra threatened to do to him.”

“And will you just abandon your mission? What—you think I didn’t know about it?”

She didn’t, of course. Until now. Drego was good at what he did—very good. But he shouldn’t have touched her. Nothing showed on his face, but he couldn’t keep the twitch from his hand. And he knew it. He let go of her arm, looking faintly crestfallen.

“Well played,” he said. “So if I tell you, then what?”

“Then you’re placing your mission at risk based on the fact that you like me. Perhaps you haven’t been at this for
very long, but that’s not usually the way to get ahead in this game.”

“Perhaps I don’t consider it a game.”

Thorn knew that Steel would be shouting at her right now, but she didn’t touch him to find out. Drego was an enemy spy. He was practically volunteering to share information. And she was pushing him away.

“Do as you see fit,” she said. “But I’m not promising anything in return.”

He glanced from side to side, then closed his eyes for a moment—probably using his powers to search for scrying. He took a step toward her; barely any space was left between them. He whispered, “I’m here to kill the Daughters of Sora Kell.”

His proximity was distracting, his words calm and committed; it took a moment for them to register.

That was ridiculous. Sora Maenya alone was said to have broken a battalion, and Sora Katra had different powers in every tale. If Drego were that powerful, surely she’d have heard about him … then she realized what he was doing.

“I’m supposed to release Khyber, myself,” she said. “At least we’re not at odds.”

He chuckled. Thorn had been right the first time. Drego was good at what he did, and he wouldn’t give the game away after a single night in the woods. But she’d still come out ahead. She knew he had a secret … and she’d seen him lie. In time, she’d learn to read him. Until then, she could feel the energy between them. He might put his nation first, for now. But the desire was there.

The door of the conference hall opened, and delegates began to emerge. Drego leaned close to whisper. “The giant or the medusa. Which do you want?”

She could feel his words against her neck, and it took several moments for the question to register. I’m just leading him on, she thought.

“Medusa,” she said.

“Flamebearer Sarhain?” Minister Luala had spoken. Drego pulled away from Thorn.

“My apologies, minister,” he said, his dashing smile in place. “I left the hall to look for a latrine, and then I found myself in the midst of a story.” He glanced at Thorn. “I do hope there’ll be an opportunity for me to finish telling it.”

“As do I. Minister, Flamebearer, if you’ll excuse me, I must find Lord Beren. Olladra be with you.”

“Let the light of the Flame be your guide,” the minister said.

Thorn took hold of Steel’s hilt as she made her way through the crowd.

So now he knows what you’ll be doing tonight
, Steel said.

“But won’t be in my way,” she muttered.

So you hope. I’m just glad that you’re not being seduced by his gallant ways and handsome features
.

“Of course not,” Thorn said. And in truth, it wasn’t the feel of his breath against her skin that stayed in her mind.

It was the vision of a sword flashing toward his face.

Beren ir’ Wynarn was speaking with Drul Kantar. The oni wore a robe of dark blue silk bedecked with golden stars. Around his neck, a golden chain bore six crystal spheres of various sizes and shades … the six full moons, Thorn realized. She wondered if he had other crystals representing the other moons. Seeing a monstrous creature dressed in such finery was very odd. Kantar had a gentle manner, but he every bit as muscular as the ogre Thorn had fought on the previous night.

Beren scowled. “There you are,” he snapped. “I don’t expect to be kept waiting by my
aide.”
If Drul Kantar noticed the unusual emphasis Beren placed on the final word, he didn’t show it.

“My apologies, Lord Beren,” Thorn said. “Are we joining the others?” The rest of the envoys were already being ushered away by the ogre guards.

“In time,” Drul Kantar said. “At the moment, someone wishes to speak to you.”

Thorn moved toward the oni. “Drul Kantar, have you seen Lord Munta of Darguun today?”

Kantar chuckled. “Have no fear, my lady. Lord Munta’s head is still on his shoulders. I’m afraid that the chuul served at the feast disagreed with him. I believe his warriors are standing watch over his sickbed.”

They made their way down the dark, winding halls of the Crag. Thorn felt like she was walking through the body of some enormous beast; the tunnels were as indistinguishable as blood vessels. And I’ve already been through the bowels, Thorn thought.

They came to an arched entrance. Drul Kantar raised a hand.

“Give me a moment,” he said, stepping through the archway. Before long, they heard his voice. “Was this necessary?”

“Yes.” It was a woman’s voice, beautiful yet assertive. Familiar, but from her distance, Thorn couldn’t identify it.

“I’ve brought the Brelish ambassador. Can I leave you alone?”

“Are you questioning my loyalty, Drul?”

“Only your restraint.”

There was a low hiss. “Don’t worry,” the voice came at last. “I won’t do anything that can’t be undone.”

It’s likely a show, Thorn thought. Drul and this woman want us to hear the conversation. They’re trying to intimidate us.

A moment later, Drul emerged. “She’s waiting for you,” he said. “For your own safety, I suggest you keep your eyes fixed on the floor. An escort will be waiting for you when your business is concluded.”

Despite Thorn’s suspicions, the giant’s concern seemed sincere. She took the lead, keeping her eyes low as she turned the corner.

A statue stood in the way—a large, bulky figure carved from stone. Slowly raising her eyes, Thorn saw that it was one of the armored ogres that served as diplomatic escorts. His left arm was maimed; the jagged scar suggested that the damage was recent.

“Come in.” Another sound bloomed behind the woman’s voice. Distant rain, or the voices of a dozen hissing serpents. This was accompanied by a more disturbing sound … powerful jaws working at flesh.

Thorn recognized the speaker: Sheshka, the Queen of Stone.

E
ven though she was shielded behind the petrified body of the ogre, Thorn let her gaze fall to the floor.

“Our thanks for your hospitality, noble Sheshka,” she said as she stepped out from behind the statue. She stressed the last word, making sure Beren and Toli heard her. Both hastily lowered their eyes.

As soon as she recognized Sheshka’s voice, Thorn had entertained the wild hope that the statue of Harryn Stormblade might be in the chamber. But these weren’t Sheshka’s living quarters, and the unfortunate ogre was the only effigy in the room. This was simply a smaller conference room, apparently chosen for its distance from the main halls.