The Queen of Stone: Thorn of Breland (28 page)

Sheshka wound an arm ring around one bicep. “Because his true loyalties lie elsewhere, of course. You saw what he became.”

“A werewolf.” Thorn knew almost nothing about these creatures. Legends said they were all but extinct.

“Yes,” Sheshka said. She placed a ring on her finger and hissed sharply as she released it, as if it caused her pain. She turned to face Thorn, closing her eyes as she did. “And Zaeurl and her children have always been loyal to the Daughters of Sora Kell.”

“So you think the Daughters want to kill you and make it look like Breland is responsible?”

“I believe they already have,” Sheshka said. Sheshka paused for a moment near Szaj’s corpse, then strode out of the room. Thorn followed her into the main chamber. “The evidence is here, and all they need to do is ensure my death. My people will certainly demand vengeance. Why they would want war with the east I cannot say, but it seems inevitable. I don’t know what stakes you hold in such a conflict, but there’s nothing we can do alone.”

“Ber—” Thorn caught herself before she said the name. Surely Sheshka knew she was one of the envoys, but didn’t know which nation she was from. “What about my companions? I can’t leave them here.”

“There is nothing to be done for them,” Sheshka said. “If the Daughters are behind this, we will be lucky to escape with our lives. If your comrades are diplomats, it’s more likely that they will be kept as hostages than killed. If you help me escape, I can get word to my people. We cannot stand against the full might of Droaam alone, but I can help you. At the least, I may be able to find Harryn Stormblade, though I fear it won’t be easy.”

Only then did Thorn realize that she’d been throughout the medusa’s chambers and had seen no petrified warriors. “So Harryn isn’t here.”

“No. Until recently, he stood in the Great Hall. Two days ago he was moved beyond the walls of the Great Crag, at the orders of the warlord Drul Kantar. If you are willing to remain until my soldiers arrive, we might be able to find him. But until then, he could be anywhere in the city. Searching for him would be … what is your phrase? Like searching for a tree in a forest.”

“Or a bone in an ossuary,” Thorn said glumly.

Sheshka’s reaction surprised her. The medusa’s head snapped toward her, and her snakes coiled back as if preparing to strike. “What did you say?”

Thorn took a step back, closing her eyes. Something dangerous lurked in the medusa’s voice. “It would be like finding a bone in an ossuary. It’s a container for holding—”

“I know what an ossuary is,” Sheshka said. “Why did you say it now?”

“A note was left for me at the welcoming feast. That’s what it said.”

“Let us go.” A rack of weaponry hung in the main room, and Sheshka selected an ornate short bow and
quiver. She turned to face Thorn. Her eyes were closed, and she had regained her composure. Bow in hand, armor gleaming, she was every inch the warrior queen. “We may not survive the journey. The gates lie above us, and they will be guarded. I can no longer say who in this place can be trusted, but we will not die alone.”

“Could we use the sewers?” Thorn said.

Four of Sheshka’s serpents turned to look at her, their posture suggesting surprise. “I suppose …” she said. “There must be a path leading out. But I do not know the way, and it would be a gruesome journey.”

“Honestly? I’ve seen worse,” Thorn said. “Besides, I know a ritual to help with that, and to keep trackers from following. If you’ll allow me, your majesty.”

Thorn had held back from casting the shielding spell, because she’d hoped to include Harryn Stormblade in its effects, but it seemed she’d need its defense now. She whispered the syllables of magic, tracing the pattern to include the medusa, and she could sense Sheshka’s odor fading from the room. “It’s done.”

“Then ready yourself for battle,” Sheshka said, nocking an arrow to her bowstring. She nudged the door open with her foot, revealing the corpses of two guards. One lay in a pool of blood; his head had nearly been severed from his body, likely by the blades of the Valenar elf. The other had been felled by magic. A focused burst of flame had melted her steel breastplate and charred the muscle beneath, leaving metal bound to seared flesh.

“You’ll need the myrnaxe,” Sheshka said. If the sight unnerved her, she gave no sign. “This is a night for silver.”

T
horn had already intended to use the sewers as her escape route, and—thanks to Jharl—she knew exactly where to go. She led the way at a hard run. With only a few hundred feet to go, speed seemed more important than stealth. And it was. Thorn was less than ten feet from the privy chamber when she heard the sound of thunder rolling down the hall—iron-shod boots pounding against the stone. She darted into the latrine and pressed herself tight against the wall. Sheshka followed close behind her, taking the other side. Moments later, a troop of armored ogres stormed past them, loping toward Sheshka’s quarters.

“Skullcrushers,” Sheshka murmured, once the sound had faded. “The elite guards of the Crag.”

So she was right, Thorn thought. Either the Aundairian had been caught and then confessed, and the guards had been sent to save Sheshka—or they’d come to finish what she started. Either way, trouble lay ahead. “Olladra, Aureon, smile on your servant Beren,” she breathed.

Thorn thought that Sheshka might need the rope and climbing tools she’d brought with her, but the medusa knew what to do. She’d slung her bow and was sliding down through the ogre’s latrine.

The last time Thorn had passed through the sewers, she’d been a gaseous cloud. That had many advantages—floating through the air was far easier than clinging to scum-encrusted walls while trying not to slip and tumble into the sewage below. And in her ghostly form, she’d lost her sense of smell. This time, Thorn was solid, and her senses were sharper than ever. In her haste to follow Sheshka, she’d neglected to use her nose clip, and the odor was horrific. She struggled to keep from retching, which was no help as she fought to keep her grip on the wall.

If the stench bothered Sheshka, she gave no sign of it. The medusa was cool and efficient, descending at a steady, methodical rate. Her serpents had settled against her back and shoulders, coiled quietly against her skin.

Thorn had plotted the path the night before, and she knew exactly where to go. But it was one thing to plan this journey in bed, and another to actually crawl through the foul pipes, surrounded by flowing water and scuttling insects. Yet even bad things come to an end, and eventually they dropped into the main sewer line—an underground river of filthy water, flowing deep below the Crag. A path ran along the edge of this subterranean canal, but the pipe Thorn and Sheshka were in opened up immediately above the water, and they had to swim through the ghastly tributary to reach the walkway.

“Thank Aureon for magic,” Thorn muttered. Thanks to her masking spell, the waste hadn’t clung to her, but she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to drive the odor from her mind. She reached into her cloak and found her nose clip. Better late then never.

“And praise to his Shadow,” Sheshka said. The common myth of the Sovereign Host was that the god Aureon had been the first among the Sovereigns to master the art of wizardry, but in his quest for knowledge, Aureon had given malevolent life to his own shadow, and that force
was responsible for all manner of dark magic, along with the creation of many monsters. Thorn had heard that many of the people of Droaam worshiped the Shadow, but she’d never pictured them being so nonchalant about it.

“This way,” Thorn said. She produced the axe again. Sheshka said she’d need it for what lay ahead … presumably, that meant more wolves. The myrnaxe was a heavy weapon, designed to be wielded by an eight-foot gnoll. With effort, Thorn could carry it in one hand. She’d gone too long without consulting with Steel, and she wanted her partner’s opinion about their situation. She pressed her hand against the dagger’s hilt.

You should have brought Toli’s body
, he said.
There would have been nothing left to link the incident to Breland
.

Damn it. At the same time, if Sheshka was right, the bodies were essentially a formality. “He would have slowed us down,” she whispered. “And it would have been exciting meeting those ogres with a corpse over my shoulder.”

“What?” Sheshka was close behind Thorn, her bow in her hands. Thorn had been muttering, and it was unlikely that the medusa heard her exact words, but she’d clearly heard enough to be curious.

“Sorry. I talk to myself when I’m nervous,” Thorn said.

Why should you be nervous?
Steel said.
We’re only looking at war between Breland and Droaam
.

“But why?” Thorn frowned.

“Why what?” Sheshka said. “If you’re nervous, explain your fears.”

“This makes no sense,” Thorn said. “You said that To—the assassins were werewolves.”

“Not necessarily,” Sheshka said. “The Dark Pack is largely made up of the Children of Zaeurl—wolves. But there are wererats in the Crag, and I’ve seen boars, bears, even fierce lizards. The curse can be bound to any predatory spirit.”

“Fine,” Thorn said. “Shapeshifters. The assassins were
shapeshifters. But from what I’ve heard, these creatures were exterminated hundreds of years ago. The assassins were all members of the other diplomatic delegations. How long have they been planning this?”

A torrent of filth rained down into the canal as they passed a set of drains.

“I don’t know,” Sheshka said. “A few among them have the power to pass their affliction to others. But it takes time for the magic to seize hold—a week or more.”

“Why do you call it an affliction?”

“They call it a blessing,” Sheshka said. “But I’ve dealt with members of the Dark Pack, and I remember the past. The power changes the people it takes root in. It’s not always bad—I know an ogre near Cazhaak Draal who is wiser and more serene than is typical for his kind. He has little desire for the company of others, and he has never harmed one of my kin.

“But in others—the change it brings is terrifying. The Children of Zaeurl may wear the skin of wolves, but the wolf doesn’t hunt other creatures for sport. It takes no pleasure in tormenting its prey. Not so the wolves of the Dark Pack.”

She said she remembered the past
, Steel said.
Find out what she meant
. Thorn dutifully repeated the question.

“My people live far longer than yours,” Sheshka replied. “I remember a time when skinchangers came down from the great woods of the north. My people have never been touched by the shifting, but I saw many others who were—ogres, goblins, even trolls. Those corrupted by this power turned on their own kind. Fortunately, they were few in number and we kept them at bay.

“Decades later, Zaeurl came south with her kin, along with worgs and dire wolves. But unlike those who had come before her, she sought only to be left alone, to roam with her pack and hunt the beasts of the wild, or occasionally the humans on the western frontier. She didn’t seek to
spread her affliction. And so the warlords left her alone.”

She’s talking about the Silver Crusade
, Steel said.
The same event Minister Luala described at the feast. It sounds like the Droaamish fought their own battle against lycanthropy. Fascinating
.

“I don’t know if Zaeurl had dealings with Sora Katra in the intervening years; many of us dealt with the Mistress of the Mires. But when the Three Sisters called the warlords to the Crag, Zaeurl arrived with her full pack and was the first to swear fealty to Droaam. The Dark Pack and the Znir Pact have always been the staunchest allies of the Daughters—hence my suspicion when I saw you holding the myrnaxe.”

Many things were bothering Thorn, but in the meantime, a new problem appeared. A metal grid blocked the tunnel—at the border separating the sewers of the Crag from the city surrounding it. No signs of corrosion were visible on the bars.

Adamantine. The goblins and hobgoblins who’d carved their kingdom into the Great Crag used little in the way of magic, but they were master architects and metallurgists. Adamantine was the most durable alloy ever discovered. Thorn wouldn’t be able to force her way through these bars. A hinged gate was set into the metal grid—heavy bars held in place by a hefty lock. Thorn had trained on Dhakaani locks, and she’d rather have had to break a warding spell.

“This will take some time,” she said, drawing an assortment of wire probes and other tools from her cloak. She started testing the tumblers. “I still don’t understand something. You said Zaeurl is loyal to the hags.”

“Since the first days of their reign, yes. Sora Maenya’s skullcrusher ogres and giants are the iron fist of the Daughters, but the skullcrushers are a blunt tool. The Dark Pack are hunters, subtle and skilled.”

“And the Dark Pack and the ogres tried to kill you. To
start a war with Breland.” A pick snapped against the adamantine workings of the lock.