Son of Khyber_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [75]
A voice echoed through the room. Drego. “So this is where you keep them. It’s touching.”
Thorn’s first thought was to cover herself, but she pushed it from her mind. She’d been a soldier before she became a spy, and on the battlefield, privacy was a luxury. It was anger that drew her to her feet. “Where are you?” she snarled.
“Here.” Now the source of the sound was easier to track. He was standing just behind the enormous dragon skull. “Just admiring your collection.”
She stalked around the skull, armored in her fury. What she found was enough to break her angry resolve. Drego had his back to her. The wall before him was covered with niches, scores of alcoves of various sizes. Each alcove held a skull, and for a moment it seemed that the sightless sockets were all glaring at Thorn. The bones came from creatures of many races. The polished, slender skull of an elf sat alongside the remnants of a human skull that had been split apart by a blade. A narrow silver crown sat atop the shattered remains. Drego was examining what appeared to be the skull of a massive tiger, though there were certain elements of jaw and skull that seemed more human than bestial.
“He’s certainly seen better days,” Drego said, resting a hand on the skull of the great beast. He glanced back at Thorn and smiled. “You, on the other hand, look lovelier than ever.”
Thorn didn’t return the smile. “What is this place? And what have you done with my clothes, you twisted bastard?”
Drego laughed. “There’s no knots in my lineage, I assure you of that. As for your clothing, it’s just waiting for you to claim it.”
He pointed. Following his gesture, Thorn saw the gown standing just beyond the skull, supported in midair as if worn by an invisible woman. The red silk was the color of wet blood, set against panels of black so deep it seemed more like shadow than silk. Long gloves of red leather rose almost to the shoulder, seemingly filled by unseen flesh. She’d seen it before. In her dreams.
“This isn’t real,” she murmured.
“Perhaps,” Drego said. “Or perhaps this is the one thing that is real. Don’t you want to see how it fits?”
“No,” Thorn turned back to him. “Who are you, really? What is this place?”
“I may be the only friend you truly have,” Drego told her, running his fingers along the top of the tiger’s skull. “And this is a place you carry within.”
“If you’re such a great friend, give me answers instead of questions.”
Thorn knew that she couldn’t trust anything in this place, but the man was a perfect match to Drego—from the gleam in his eye to his mischievous grin. “Perhaps I could. But you aren’t asking the right questions.”
It’s a dream, she reminded herself. Punching him won’t solve anything.
“Oh?” she said. “What should I ask?”
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I know the answer to that,” she said. “Nyrielle Tam. Thorn, of the King’s Dark Lanterns.”
“That’s two answers,” Drego said. “You began as one. You became the other. And how did that happen?”
It was a surreal conversation to be having, all the more so while surrounded by skulls. But if it was a dream, there was no reason to hide from it. “My father.”
“How so?”
Memories rolled through Thorn’s mind. The few images of her mother, before she’d returned to Aerenal. Her father, dressed in his red cloak and armor. And the man who came to tell her of father’s death. “He was a hero,” she said. “He loved Breland, and he died for it. Breland is part of us. And in the service to the king … I guess it just seemed like the only way to be close to him again.”
Drego brushed an imaginary tear from his cheek. “And so we know how Nyrielle became Thorn. But what brought you to this place? You’ve got all the pieces. You just need to put them together.”
“Well, my true and only friend, perhaps you’d like to get me started?”
He shrugged. “Why are you here with the Son of Khyber?”
“It’s my mission. To learn what he’s doing. To kill him, if need be.”
Thorn didn’t fully believe her own words, and it was no surprise that Drego didn’t either.
“Really?” he asked.