Darkvision - Bruce R. Cordell [39]
Aunt Sevaera, on the other hand, stared directly at Warian, her eyes alight with supposition. Warian waved at her. She smiled, though her plangent crystal half mask turned her expression into more of a grimace.
Eined's seat was empty. No surprise there. But so was Grandfather Shaddon's. When Warian was regularly attending family council meetings five years earlier, Shaddon never missed a meeting. Warian wondered what could be so important that Shaddon would allow Xaemar to have the final word over Datharathi Minerals. Shaddon was a right bastard despite being his grandfather, and would rather be damned than give Xaemar or any other family member carte blanche over the family business, even if Xaemar was a prodigy of business leadership.
Also at the table sat a pair of third cousins that Warian didn't know well, Barden and Corlaen. They seemed fascinated by Xaemar's droning. His uncle was elucidating something about distribution, levies, port fees-Warian tuned him out again.
Two of the empty seats had belonged to Warian's parents. Warian tried to push the memory aside. He'd always wondered about the accident that had taken them. Something never seemed right.
When Xaemar finally wound down, his eyes alighted on Warian and widened slightly, as if seeing his nephew for the first time, even though Warian felt as if he had just sat through an eternity of Xaemar's talk.
"Young Warian!" Xaemar exclaimed. "Reports of your return were accurate, and timely! Don't worry, I've put time in the agenda for you. Please tell us why you've deigned to return. Zel said you had something to ask of the council." Xaemar gave a patently false smile. His uncle couldn't care less if Warian was ever seen again, and in fact, may have preferred it that way.
Warian decided to dispense with pleasantries. Getting quickly to the point was a Datharathi trait his family would appreciate. "I returned because the crystal arm Shaddon gave me has begun to… malfunction in a peculiar fashion."
"That's awful!" exclaimed Aunt Sevaera. She looked critically at his arm. "Slow and ugly as ever, but it looks functional."
"Thanks, Aunt. Yes, I know my artificial limb's inelegant lines don't match the latest Datharathi fashion." Warian nodded toward his cousin Barden's svelte, lifelike crystal arm that matched with almost perfect fidelity the arm Barden had been born with. Warian's own fake arm was angular and faceted in comparison.
Xaemar brightened. "That's right-our plangent line has been enormously successful in Vaelan. We can charge outrageous rates. Shaddon says we're ready to begin offering plangent upgrades outside Vaelan-beyond the Durpar region, even, if the price is right."
"How great for you," said Warian. "Now-about my prosthesis…"
Xaemar inclined his head but began to tap impatiently on the marble table. Warian knew that his time was running short.
"The thing is, I wonder if your new 'line' of prosthetics isn't having some sort of… retroactive effect on my arm."
"How so?" wondered Sevaera.
"Less than a month ago, my prosthesis-became suddenly stronger. It was as if my arm had received… a charge of supernatural strength. I nearly killed a man when I accidentally hurled him twenty feet into a wall. I want to know if this is your doing. Something you've done because of your plangent program? How can I get it under control? I don't want to hurt anybody by accident." Warian was fairly sure he knew how to trigger the strength after the incident in Eined's apartment, but perhaps there was a way to call upon its strength in a controlled manner.
Xaemar started to ask a question, then paused, staring blankly ahead. After three or four heartbeats, just as Warian was about to ask his uncle if everything was all right, animation returned to the man's face.
Xaemar questioned him, a new note of authority in his voice. "Twenty feet, you say? Are you making that up?"
"No, Uncle. In fact, it might have been more. And not only that. With the strength came speed. Everyone in that tavern seemed