City of Towers_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [96]
“What choice do I have?” Daine said. “So, what’s the price of my freedom? I’ve told you I don’t have coin to spare. I’d have to sell my sword to pay back the price of this room, and it isn’t even my sword.”
Lakashtai raised his chin with a finger and stared into his eyes. Her skin was smooth and slightly cold, and as before her gaze was deep and hypnotic. She released him and looked away.
“My people were engaged in spiritual warfare long before the rise of Galifar—before your Cyre ever existed. You cannot put a price on a soul. I will help you because I can.” She looked back at him. “All I ask is that if I should need your help in the future, you remember what I have done for you.”
“Very well.” Daine didn’t like the thought of being indebted to anyone, and the situation was unfolding with remarkable speed. But he could feel Monan’s power growing, could hear the changeling’s voice whispering in the back of his mind, and he felt flashes of emotion that had nothing to do with his own desires. “What do I do?”
“Lie back. Let your thoughts wander. By now, your enemy will be gathering his power, preparing for his next attack. Don’t try to resist. Whatever happens, whatever threat he presents, don’t fight back. Let my friend handle everything.”
She leaned in close to him, and for a moment Daine thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, she touched her forehead to his. Her eyes filled his field of view, and her scent filled his mind—strange and exotic, yet somehow intimately familiar, an old friend he had forgotten.
“Let go,” she said, and he fell into her eyes.
“So here we are again.”
He was outside the Manticore, and Monan’s voice rang through the air. The changeling was leaning against the door of the inn.
Daine said nothing.
“Your grandfather was a poor choice,” said Monan, walking toward him. “Perhaps he was a professional soldier, but you were used to fighting him, and that was my mistake. But there are so many weapons I can use against you.”
The surroundings changed, and Daine found himself in a luxurious manor—Alina Lyrris’ estate in Metrol, which Daine hadn’t seen for eight years. The floors were covered with soft bearskin, the air filled with the scent of cinnamon and rich perfumes. Daine knew what Monan was trying to do, and he expected to hear Alina’s voice next. But it was Lei who appeared nearby.
“Now, what do you suppose I would think if I knew about this?” Lei said. “I never thought you were capable of such things, Daine. But neither did you, did you? Does it still trouble you? Or has the war burned the shame from your system?”
She came closer, and Daine saw a glint of metal in her hand. A knife? Instinct brought his hand to the hilt of his sword, but memory weighted down his thoughts. Why fight it? Despite his best efforts, what difference had he made over the last eight years? Cyre was gone and he was working for Alina again. What was the point?
But even as he let go of his sword, even as Lei came closer, he felt a presence, something fundamentally … other.
Look away, Daine. Close your eyes.
The thoughts came from within his own mind, yet he knew they were Lakashtai’s. Even as he glanced away, he saw a shadow falling over the false Lei, saw a look of pure terror on her face. He closed his eyes. There was a horrible, gurgling scream … and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, it was still Lei’s voice. It was a sound that would haunt his dreams for years to come.
When Daine opened his eyes, he was lying on a soft bed in a room of glowing crystal. He felt no trace of Monan in his mind, and Lakashtai was nowhere to be seen. A small shard of green crystal was on the bed next to him. He picked it up. It was cool to the touch, and for a moment he felt the touch of kalashtar fingers on his hand.
He slipped the crystal into his belt pouch, picked up his cloak, and left the glowing room for the dark streets below.
The sun had set over Sharn, but the