City of Towers_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [28]
Night was falling as they made their way back to Dassi’s inn. Pierce led the way through the streets, his eyes ever watching for trouble. Jode tagged behind, lost in his own thoughts. Lei, walking next to Daine, held the dark staff as if it was covered with poison spines, and her expression was grim.
“Time to explain, Lei.” said Daine, scowling. “You didn’t tell us that Uncle Jura was another outcast. What did he do to get thrown out of Cannith? What are you afraid of?”
“Jura … always loved plants. He traveled to the jungles of Aerenal, the Eldeen Reaches, the forests of Karrnath. He met his wife in Aerenal.”
“So? Don’t tell me that expelled him for marrying an elf?”
“Actually, she was a dryad. He had her relocated to Sharn. As if the miscegenation wasn’t trouble enough, after the wedding his behavior became … questionable. His parties were infamous. The stories say that he made most of his current fortune selling poisons and prohibited substances—dreamlily and the like.”
“Because of a dryad? But in all the stories I’ve heard—”
“A darkwood dryad.”
“Ah.”
“Yes. Apparently, in his bid to be restored to the house, he’s claiming that his wife ensorcelled him, that he wasn’t responsible for his behavior. Whether or not that’s true … he’s not the man I knew as a child.”
“Darkwood, hmm?” Daine reflected for a moment. “How did she die?”
“How do dryads ever die?”
Daine reflected on the wooden throne in the indoor grove, carved from the stump of a darkwood tree. He glanced over at the black staff. The top was carved to resemble the head of a beautiful woman, with long tresses running down the shaft. “So … that’s …?”
“Dark heart? Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Charming.”
The walked the rest of the way in silence.
Little sunlight reached the streets of High Walls, and the filthy windows of the Manticore might just as well have been made of stone for all of the light they let through. Alina’s parchments were scattered across the floor of the small room. Lei had woven an illuminating enchantment into a small crystal she’d been carrying, and she was using this light to read the documents. Daine paced back and forth and Jode sat on the floor, while Pierce remained as silent and impassive as a statue.
“Time is of the essence,” Daine said. “For all we know, Rasial has already sold the shards. It’s possible they will be smuggled out of the city before we can find them. If this is the case, Alina will at least expect us to find out who is in possession of the goods. Whatever happens, we need to find Rasial fast.”
The fourth bell rang, pure tones echoing throughout the vast well of Tavick’s Landing.
“We have a dinner invitation, if we want it,” Daine continued. “Jode and I met Teral ir’Soras, an old councilor from the Cyran court. It may be a waste of time. He’s a politician, so he may just be currying favor. But if he knows the residents of this district he could be a useful contact, especially if we’re going to be here for a while. What else do we have to work with?”
Jode spoke up. “Rasial Tann served in the Sharn Watch for five years, serving with the Gold Wing guards for the last three years of his career. During that time he lived in the Daggerwatch district of Upper Dura. Most of the guardsmen are based there. Hopefully, our friend from the lift isn’t going to pursue the matter, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be asking questions in a garrison right about now, Daine.”
“And you think she’s forgotten about you? You only stuck a knife through her knee.”
Jode shrugged. “Subtlety is my strength. I won’t be recognized.”
Daine scowled, but nodded. Jode was far better at digging up information than Lei or Pierce, and this might take a delicate touch. “As you wish. What else?”
“It seems that Rasial has a particular gift for handling hippogriffs. That’s why he was recruited by the Gold Wings. But in his free time, he spent a great deal of time racing. Hareth’s Folly in Middle Dura seems to be a center for windchasing and