Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [66]
She had to give Drego credit. He didn’t show the slightest sign of recognition or surprise. He smiled and extended his hand, brushing his lips against her proffered fingers. “And how lucky we are to have such a lovely addition to our family,” he said. He held on to her hand as he continued to speak. “What gift does your mark possess?”
Drego knew Thorn was a Brelish agent and that mere months ago she hadn’t possessed an aberrant dragonmark. He was testing her—undoubtedly curious to see what the quartermasters of the Citadel had devised. She smiled and let a faint trickle of power flow from her false dragonmark. It was just a touch of pain for her—a razor running down the edge of her skin—but Drego grimaced and pulled his hand away.
“I’m sorry, Brother Drego,” she said coyly. “It’s easier to show than tell. What of you? I can’t even see your mark.”
Though he was still sweating from the pain, Drego wasn’t one to pass up such an opportunity. “It’s hidden by my clothing, sister. But if you’d like a private viewing, that could certainly be arranged.”
That was certainly the Drego she remembered. He’d pursued her throughout their time in Droaam. She still wasn’t sure if it was entirely a game, or if there was some spark of truth behind it. Even when he’d turned on her in Droaam, he’d still asked her to take his side and come with him. She didn’t trust him, yet there was something between them, something she couldn’t easily explain. Even now, she found herself enjoying the interplay and wanting to draw it out. “So what does it do?”
“My gifts relate to spirits, sister,” he said. “I may not have power to match our mighty Son of Khyber, but my powers help me track and battle fiends and other immortals. Beyond that, I studied the arcane arts before my mark manifested, so I have a few other tools in my arsenal.”
“Impressive,” she said. “Tracking and binding fiends. How do you measure against an exorcist of the Silver Flame?” Thrane had long been known for its corps of exorcists.
“Interesting that you should ask,” Drego replied. “I was in fact raised in the church, and for a time I served the nation. But despite the powers of my mark, the mere fact that it was aberrant was enough to turn my superiors against me. I was cast out from my duties. I’m grateful that Tavin and the Son of Khyber have given me the chance to put my skills to good use.”
So there was his story. There was even the chance that it was true—though Thorn didn’t believe it.
Daine had remained silent throughout their banter, and now he spoke again. Whatever vulnerability or remorse he’d let Thorn see had vanished. He was the Son of Khyber again, confident and in charge. “You made good time, Brother Drego. Did you acquire the information we require?”
Drego nodded. He produced a leather scroll case and handed it to Daine. “Everything’s there. I don’t have an exact location, but certainly a place to begin.”
“Very well. I will need time to study this and to prepare for the challenge ahead. I suggest that the two of you rest and enjoy yourselves as best you can during this time. We go to face an immortal, a being who gazed down on Eberron before the first human was born. There is every chance that we will not return.”
Thorn held out her hand, reaching for his arm. “Is there anything I can—?”
“No.” He brushed her hand away. “If you see Xu’sasar, tell her she may return. I will call you when it is time. Now leave me. Both of you.”
Thorn and Drego looked at each other for a moment. Thorn knew he was thinking the same thing she was—waiting for the other to move first. She smiled and walked past him. Despite the bravado, she felt a shiver through her nerves as he followed her.
They were in the Chamber of Bones when he reached out for her. Perhaps he was only going to lay his hand