Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [69]
Zae’s voice grew stronger as she spoken, and for a moment it seemed that it was Filleon who was speaking. Thorn tried to push the thought aside. “So … he might have a kobold’s heart?”
“Yes,” Zae said. “Something incapable of providing the flow of blood he needs.”
“What can you do?”
The halfling smiled “It’s a game my father taught me. I need to cut him open and find the parts that don’t belong. Then I cut them out, and keep doing it until he grows a part that works.”
Thorn was surprised by his cavalier attitude. “Has this happened before?”
“Oh, yes,” Zae said. “I’ve kept a few of the more interesting things I’ve found inside of him. Would you like to see?”
“No thanks,” Thorn said. “I need to get some rest before my next task … and I think that my dreams are strange enough as it is.”
The halfling shrugged again and returned to her work. A rat crawled up her back and peered down from her shoulder.
Drego was watching her when she woke.
Her sleep had been mercifully free of dreams. As she rose from the darkness, she felt the dull ache of the shards burning against her spine—and she felt Drego. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew he was there. In part it was his scent, and in part she just knew that it was what he would do. He was bold, she had to give him that. And again she wondered why he was so interested. It had to be more than sheer physical attraction. They served different nations, and he had to know that she’d kill him if Breland demanded it. So what game was he playing?
She kept her eyes closed, her breathing slow. How long had he been standing there? How long would he wait?
Minutes past before he finally spoke. “Nyri,” he said softly. “Nyrielle. It’s time.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I thought you’d keep your distance for a time, brother Drego. And in this place, my name is Thorn.”
“You’ve always been dangerous … Thorn. I could see that the first time we met. But whatever you may think, I’ve never been your enemy. I know that you’ll see that in time. And I want to be close at hand when you do. I truly hate to take you out of bed, but the others are waiting.”
Thorn slid off the bunk, pulling her cloak from the floor. She ran a hand along its various hidden pockets, wondering if Drego had searched through its contents while she slept. It seemed unlikely. Drego’s strength lay in his magic, and while he might be able to weave a spell of invisibility, he had little talent for practical stealth. “Lead the way then. I think I’ll follow this time.”
There was a great deal of activity in the fortress. The canteen had been stripped, and Tarkanans were packing crates and dragging goods away. It seemed evacuation was the order of the day.
“I know I was a little brusque earlier,” Thorn said as they wove a path between the Tarkanan laborers. “I never expected to see you again, and that ‘plot to release a plague of werewolves’ kind of stayed with me. Can we start over?”
“I should like nothing better, sister Thorn.” He even sounded like he meant it.
“Good.” Thorn drew Steel, hiding the blade against her wrist. “So tell me, how have the last few months changed Drego Sarhain?”
Drego launched into the tale of how his comrades had rescued him from Droaam, and of heroic battles with dark forces in the months between. There was nothing of substance to the story, just as Thorn had expected. It was Steel’s report that she wanted to hear.
I’m afraid nothing has changed, he whispered. I sense no active enchantments or sources of magical energy.
She’d feared as much. It was the same as her first meeting with Drego. It was highly unlikely that he was operating without any sort of magical tools, which meant that he had a way of blocking divination. Thorn examined him, looking for clues. The belt was new, as was the darkwood wand hanging from a sheath—surely a tool for focusing his sorcerous powers. He wore a locket that she remembered from their last encounter. To her chagrin, she