Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [2]
“I didn’t know she was related to you,” the man said. “How could I? She’s new to the city, new, and sheaaaah—” He cried out in pain, stiffening in response to the unseen torture.
“She wears her blood on her face,” the voice said. “You should have known. Never threaten my kin. Tell me this is understood.”
“I understand!” the wizard cried, dropping to the pavement.
“Then go. And know this: when I see you again, your heart shall fail you.”
The wizard staggered to his feet. Blood and filthy water had soaked his fine robes, and he fled from Thorn’s peripheral vision. As the sound of his passage faded, she heard the stranger approach, splashing through the pools of rain. Her instincts urged her to rise to her feet, to at least face this possible foe. But she had a job to do, and she kept her head pressed against the ogre.
She felt a hand against her shoulder—a gentle touch, the brush of a child’s fingers. She shivered.
“Rise, sister.” The voice was still harsh, but there was gentleness beneath it. “This struggle is ended.”
Thorn glanced up and finally saw her savior. He was a halfling, not even four feet tall, and he looked more like a beggar than a sorcerer. He wore a cloak and cowl of gray wool spattered with mud and held together by a host of patches. From what she could see of his face, his skin was dark and deeply lined; he was one of the oldest halflings she’d ever seen.
She brushed his hand away, using as much force as she felt she could without hurting the old man. “Don’t touch me!” she said. “You don’t understand. I can’t control it—”
He grabbed her wrist, holding it with surprising strength. “This is understood,” he said. “We share blood, you and I. You cannot hurt me.”
“What are you talking about? We’re not even the same race. How could we be related? What do you want from me?”
The halfling released her wrist and drew his tattered cloak back to reveal his left arm. It was a withered husk, swathed against his chest. His hand was clenched in a tight fist, but she could see the brilliant red and black markings that covered the skin. For a moment the crimson lines glowed in the shadows, then the light faded.
“We share blood. And I have come to take you home.”
Well done, Steel whispered as Thorn rose to her feet. The first part of her mission was complete.
CHAPTER TWO
Lower Dura
Lharvion 15, 999 YK
The halfling led Thorn through a maze of alleyways and winding stairs. For an old man and a cripple, he moved with a quick, sure step, even when scaling rain-slicked stone.
“Where are you taking me?” Thorn asked. The little man didn’t look back. “The path to your new home is a long one, and it is not yet the time for revelation.”
Thorn stopped beneath a torn awning, rainwater dripping around her. “No, I think this is exactly the time for revelations.”
The little man glanced back at her; he slowed his pace but kept walking. “Stay where you stand, if that is your wish. We shall never meet again, and you shall never know the truth that lies within your blood. Is that your desire?”
Thorn paused for a moment, before moving to join the withered halfling. “If this is some sort of trick, I will kill you,” she said.
The old man smiled.
They climbed the steps in silence. A pair of planks half-hid a door with the seal of condemnation set into the wood. The halfling drew out a key on a light chain, opened the door, and slipped inside. Thorn squeezed through the gap in the plank barricade and followed the little man into the shadows.
The door closed behind her. There were no windows, and the room was fully dark. But Thorn could see the halfling perfectly, and she could smell the oil in the lamp he was struggling with. Two months ago, she’d thought that the ring she wore on her left hand sharpened her senses, allowing her eyes to pierce the deepest gloom. So much had changed over those last two months … and she still