Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [38]
Drow, she realized. She’d heard of the dark elves of Xen’drik, but it was rare to see one in Khorvaire.
As intriguing as the drow was, it was the man who drew her attention. The moment she saw him, Thorn thought of King Boranel, the one time she’d met the great king. There was no physical resemblance, but the stranger had the same sense of confidence, of authority. Some men became leaders, but others were born to lead—and this man was one of the latter. He was tall, strong, and clean shaven—likely a handsome man at one point in his life.
But then there was his mark.
Until that moment, the largest aberrant dragonmark Thorn had ever seen had been the one on Fileon’s arm. Most aberrant marks were fairly small, like the false mark around her eye. What she saw before her was something else entirely. He wore no glove on his left hand, and the sleeve of his black shirt was pulled back. As far as Thorn could see, the mark covered every inch of skin on his arm and hand, a twisting pattern of red lines that alternated between the color of wet blood and a burning, luminescent crimson. Yet this was only the beginning. The mark rose up from his collar, covering the left side of his neck and head, spreading out across his left cheek and up to his forehead. It covered his left eye, and unlike any dragonmark she’d ever seen, it had actually marked the eye itself. The white and the iris were black and glistening red, pulsing with ruby light as he looked at her.
Dreck dropped to one knee. “I have done as you asked, my lord. I have boy and brooch, and I have brought the woman with me. Sister Thorn, you stand before the greatest of us all, the man who will lead us to victory. You stand before the Son of Khyber.”
The stranger smiled at her, even as his discolored eye gleamed. He held out his gloved right hand. “Call me Daine,” he said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Khyber’s Gate
Lharvion 20, 999 YK
Thorn,” she said, taking the man’s hand. His grip was strong, and he kept hold of her hand. It would be so easy to end this now. The chill dagger was held in her left glove, and she could call it to her hand and bury it in his heart before anyone could react. But she wanted to know more. She wanted to understand what he was trying to accomplish. And after all that she’d been through—the fight with the Sentinel Marshal, the strange powers she couldn’t control, her anger at the arrogance of the Twelve—she found herself wanting to hear what he had to say.
“Thorn. A good name. But not the one you were born with, is it?” As he spoke, Daine reached out with his left hand, gently tipping her chin to study her face more closely.
“Does that matter?” Thorn forced herself not to flinch at his touch. His fingers seemed feverishly warm, and the stone in her neck pounded in time with her heartbeat. And what does his mark do? she wondered.
“No. You’re not alone in that, among our company. We care nothing for the circumstances of your birth. When you come to us, you become part of a new family.” The Son of Khyber turned her head slowly from side to side. The lines running across his left eye pulsed faintly.
“Is there something you’re looking for?” Thorn said. “Not that I’ve got immediate plans for my chin, but perhaps I could save you some time.”
He released her hand and her head at the same time. The throbbing in Thorn’s neck faded, though not entirely. “My apologies,” he said. “I just wanted to examine your mark more closely.”
It was a reasonable explanation, all the more so because Thorn’s mark was a fraud. But she didn’t believe him. He was looking for something else—something he was expecting to find. Then she