The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [24]
Then I suppose it’s lucky for him that someone destroyed the forge instead of passing the information to the proper authorities.
Thorn flushed. “It was necessary to maintain my cover. Besides, you know Sharn. Merrix would have just bought off the inspectors.”
I see. And is it your opinion that Merrix posed an imminent threat to Breland? You stopped him just before he could set his warforged army in motion?
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten the warforged assassins he had down there? It may not have been an army, but the terms of the treaty are quite clear, and he was violating them. When someone with that sort of power considers himself to be above the law, that’s a threat.”
And you’re not simply trying to justify the fact that you were responsible for the death of his son.
“His son was a monster!”
His son was an artificial creature. As an inorganic sentient myself, I’m not sure I like this term “monster.”
“He was making warforged that looked human. Who knows what he would have done with that power? Spies. Assassins. Replacing people in positions of power.”
Giving his barren wife a child.
Thorn resisted the urge to pull Steel into her glove. “Enough. House Cannith was violating the restrictions placed on its behavior by the Treaty of Thronehold and using the Citadel to fight a personal battle. Tell me that neither of these things trouble you.”
I can’t argue either of those points, Lantern Thorn. Though I don’t see how either apply to Marudrix.
“He’s Cannith—”
And it’s quite a large family. Far larger than the Citadel itself. Do you hold yourself responsible for the actions of every agent of the Citadel?
Thorn frowned. “I just don’t like working for Cannith again.”
And I don’t believe you are. While Marudrix may be a member of the family and an apprentice of the Tinkers’ Guild, there was no mention of Merrix or any other member of the house. If anything, the stranger question is why he made his way to the Citadel instead of turning to his family.
Thorn considered that. “True.”
For all you know, he’s an excoriate like the captain of our ship. Perhaps he was driven from the house for questioning Merrix’s policy on secret creation forges.
“That’s not something to joke about.”
No, I suppose not. Still, perhaps you should find out more about his connections to the house.
“I suppose I will.” Thorn ran a hand over her pouches and pockets, making sure all her tools were in place. Satisfied, she walked out of the crew quarters and made her way toward the helm.
Shargon’s Tooth was a small vessel, built to carry commando teams behind enemy lines. Given that her companions weren’t in the cabin, there were only a few places they could be. She found Drix and Cadrel in the chamber that served as a galley and observation deck, just behind the helm. Drix had a small crossbow set on the table with wheels and twine laid out on a cloth next to it; he was polishing a gear. Cadrel looked over as she entered.
“Our guardian rises,” he said. “Did you sleep well, my dear?”
“Well enough,” she replied. “Let’s get to business. Would you mind clearing the table?”
The tinker looked sadly at his unfinished work. He carefully folded the cloth and tucked his tools away. As soon as the space was available, Thorn laid out a map.
“Scrying is unreliable in the Mournland,” she said. “This map is the best we have, based on the preexisting geography of Cyre and what information we’ve received from survivors and scouts, including you, Drix.” She pointed at a spot along the southern coastline. “Your report