Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [32]
He bit his tongue, Thorn realized. The bloody spit … it wasn’t from internal injuries. He was just trying to get me close. Part of her felt a fool for falling prey to the trick, but she also found herself feeling some sympathy for the little man. He probably learned that trick serving the Citadel. There was a time when he fought for Breland—it was the Twelve that forced him into the shadows, that tore his loyalty away.
This time it was no trick. Fileon was dead.
Your mission is clear. Steel’s voice pulled her back from her reverie. The others will not be expecting betrayal. Kill one of them. Interrogate the other. Learn the location of the Son of Khyber and eliminate him.
“I’m sick of this argument.” Thorn was still angry, and it was all too easy to turn this against Steel. “My mission is to evaluate the threat. I still don’t know a thing about it. I don’t know who the Son of Khyber is. I don’t know where he is, what he’s capable of, or what the consequences of his death would be. You’re the historian. You tell me how many times an assassination meant to end a war has ended up starting one.”
There was no response, so she continued.
“I’m still not convinced there is a threat to Breland. You’re very concerned with the needs of the Twelve, Steel. But right now I’d like to hear what this Son of Khyber has to say for himself.”
This is madness, Steel told her. You’ve nearly been killed three times.
“Not by the Son of Khyber. Besides, what do you expect?” She touched her eye. “Everyone knows we aberrants go mad.”
You’re not one of them.
Perhaps, she thought. She could still see Sorghan’s face as he died. And although the details were fading, the dream of Mayne dying at her touch still haunted her. “It’s not your decision to make, Steel.”
I cannot approve of this. You are threatening one of Breland’s strategic allies. If this goes wrong, I’ll have no choice but to report your actions to Zane—
“Then do it,” she said, sheathing the blade. The shard in her neck burned in answer to her growing anger. “But stop trying to tell me what to do.”
Taking a deep breath, she hefted the halfling across her shoulders. Fileon weighed little more than a child. It took her less than a minute to reach the rear gate, and another to break the ward protecting it. With that done, she raised the heavy bar and pulled open the doors.
Dreck and Brom were waiting. The warforged was dressed in brown rags, a deep hood hiding his aberrant mark. At a glance, only his long, metal hands revealed his true nature, and he’d draw little attention on the back streets of Sharn. Brom was another story. The patchwork dwarf was dressed in battered chain mail that had clearly seen many battles. Steel sheathed his ogre’s arm, culminating in a massive spiked gauntlet. Dreck scanned the hallway, his gaze dropping to take in Fileon’s corpse.
“Yes,” Thorn said. “There’re a few things we should talk about.”
CHAPTER TEN
Dragon Towers
Lharvion 20, 999 YK
Dreck knelt next to Fileon, running a hand along the halfling’s warped arm. “Our blessing is a burden, and all too often frail flesh is too weak to bear Khyber’s touch.” He looked up at Thorn, his mismatched eyes gleaming. “Brom, deal with this.”
Thorn’s hand tightened on Steel’s hilt, but Dreck was talking about the cooling corpse. The dwarf produced a large leather sack. He lifted the dead halfling up with his giant hand and deposited him in the bag. There was magic in the sack, as with Thorn’s gloves and satchel. Even after the corpse was dropped in, the bag still seemed to be empty, and Brom folded it up and tucked it away.
“Do you want to know what happened?” Thorn said.
Dreck’s face was a steel mask, impossible to read. “I know what happened, beloved. He tried to kill you. Again.” He raised a hand before she could respond. “The Son of Khyber has long