City of Towers_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [108]
The message stations of House Sivis were the backbone of long-distance communication in Khorvaire. While they called it the Mark of Scribing, the dragonmark of House Sivis related to all forms of communication. By speaking to the stone figure, a gnome could send a message across the continent. It was far from instantaneous but still far faster than any human or beast. When the message reached the intended speaking stone, a gnome at the stone station would copy it down, either holding it for pickup or passing it to a courier for local delivery. Daine had heard that House Sivis had developed its own language just for sending and recording messages. It wouldn’t surprise him. The gnomes were obsessed with the security of their system.
Daine approached the gnome spokesman. “Good evening, sir!” the gnome said cheerfully. “Are you sending or receiving?”
“Sending,” Daine said, “though there is a complication.” The gnome raised bushy eyebrows and waited for Daine to continue.
“I need to send the message at the recipient’s expense.”
“Well, sir, there are a few nations that have made such arrangements with the house, but unless you are an accredited member of the court in question, I’m afraid that I cannot—”
“The message is for Alina Lorridan Lyrris.”
“And what is it you wished to say?” The speaker produced a parchment and quill and smiled.
Back at the Manticore, Pierce set Jode’s body on one of the ragged pallets. He studied the terrible wound that had shattered his comrade’s head.
“Whoever did this must be punished,” he rumbled.
Lei was rummaging through her backpack, pulling out mystical charms and sheafs of parchment. “I never knew you to have a sense of vengeance, Pierce.”
“This is not a matter of vengeance, my lady. This is war, and war is my purpose.”
She nodded. “Then let it be mine, as well.”
She saw a minotaur falling at her touch, a warforged soldier collapsing into pieces, and for that moment, pure hatred chased away all sorrow. The moment passed, and she was left in the squalid room with her charms and her papers and the corpse of her friend. She sighed, determined to hold back her tears.
Lei spread her tools around the pallet. She took a wooden rod and whispered to it, weaving a minor spell of divination. When this task was completed, she found a flat shard of black crystal and etched the symbol of a skull into its surface. She set the stone disk aside.
“What are you doing, my lady?” Pierce asked.
Lei picked up the rod. “First, I’m going to examine him more closely and search for any sort of mystical energies. Then we’ll see what he can tell us.”
She ran her fingers across the rod, activating the enchantment she’d placed within. Slowly, carefully, she passed the rod along the body.
“There is residual magical energy here—ever so faint, but definitely there.” She studied the shattered skull more closely, then gagged, dropping the wand.
“My lady?” Pierce said, moving to take her shoulders.
“I’m … I’m all right,” she said, returning to her feet. “It’s …” She knelt again. Steeling herself, she examined the wound more closely.
“What is it?”
“This injury … it’s not what it appears.” Lei picked up a small glowing crystal, illuminating the jagged edge of the wound. “Look. This was caused by one or two powerful blows with a large, blunt implement.”
“Yes?” Pierce said.
“But beneath, it looks as if his brain was removed before this