City of Towers_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [113]
“Daine, you’re on the wrong side here.”
“And you’re on the right side?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m just trying to offer you a way out.”
Daine pondered this for a moment. “Do you remember my friend Jode?”
“The halfling?”
“Yes.” He looked straight into Grazen’s eyes. “He’s dead. I think he was killed by Alina’s enemies. Tell me. Do you think the Sharn Watch would hunt down the killers of a halfling refugee murdered beneath the city?”
For a moment, Grazen met his gaze, then he looked away.
“No.”
“I’m not doing this for Alina. I’ve lost my homeland. I’ve lost the war. Now I’ve lost my best friend. I may be about to lose my life. But I’m not going to lose my honor. I made a promise, and I’ll see it through.”
Grazen stood up. “Very well. But consider my offer—and think about what your promise might cost you. You don’t want me as an enemy, Daine.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Then I hope you’ll make the right decision.”
“We’ll see.”
Grazen slowly walked towards the door. “You can keep the rest of the wine. For old times’ sake.”
Daine nodded, and Grazen stepped out into the dark streets of High Walls. Daine poured another mug of Iltryan wine and sat in the shadows of the empty room, thinking about Jode and the promises he’d made.
But eventually, the wineskin was empty. Picking up the sack of food, Daine walked upstairs to the waiting arms of sleep.
No light broke in the depths of the sewers, no source of illumination, yet somehow the darkness did not hinder his sight. Shades of gray and blue painted the world, but he could still make out every detail of his surroundings—the murky water lapping at his feet, the vast mountain of waste towering before him, and the four bodies stretched out at the foot of the hill, now without the slightest sign of rot or decay. “It’s a sad sight, isn’t it?”
The voice was a shock. Daine spun, the motion sending a splash of water across the waves. There was Jode, perched on the wreckage of an old stool, looking every bit as alive as he had last morning.
“Jode? But you’re …” He looked back at the midden heap. The corpse was still there, its peaceful expression belying the ghastly wound across the back of its skull.
“Dead? Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He inclined his head, tapping the faintly glowing dragonmark spread across his scalp. “You didn’t find my mark, Daine, so how do you know you found me? What really defined me?” He smiled and hopped down off his perch. “Water’s a bit deep here,” he said, wading over to where Daine stood. He looked down at the corpse. “Tell me, Daine, where am I in that? Can you see me in that corpse?”
“No.”
“There you have it. You said it yourself. If anyone could find a way to swindle the Keeper of Souls, it would be Jode. So why are you so worried about me? Now come on, let’s get out of the water.”
Jode waded over to one of the sewer tunnels and climbed up to walk on the raised edge.
“This is a dream,” Daine said, slowly following. “It’s all in my imagination.”
“Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it’s in your imagination,” Jode said. “Have you ever considered that your imagination might have been drawn into the dream?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if the dream doesn’t stop when you wake up?” As Jode spoke, the hallway in front of them began to collapse. Then Daine realized it was actually being reformed—a row of massive stone teeth were rising from both floor and ceiling. A moment later the hallway was blocked by this devilish black-marble grin. “What would it do while you were awake?”
Daine spun around, but a second row of teeth had sealed the hallway behind them.
“Perhaps it just doesn’t want to let you go.”
Daine kicked at the giant teeth. They seemed solid as any stone, and pain flared up his ankle.
Jode walked in front of him. “That’s always been your problem, Daine. Always trying to use anger as an answer. Sometimes you have to look within.”
Jode reached into his own mouth and pulled out a long key cut from white marble. He fit the key in a gap between the teeth. It clicked,