The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [56]
The gnome lord was first to follow. “You have stepped from the shadows of our history, Doresh, to remind us of a time when we put fear before wisdom. We will not make that mistake again.” He drew a golden chain from around his neck, the stone glowing within.
Syraen said nothing. He simply drew his sword from its scabbard and set it down upon the table. Joridal and the Rose Queen grimly followed suit, surrendering their treasures.
Cadrel stepped forward. “I hope you will forgive my impertinence, great lady. But if you are sealing my companions in a vault, I’d prefer to remain with them than to be alone outside. I am a storyteller by trade; if they must lie still for hours, I can help them while away the time.”
“By all means, keep them together,” Syraen growled. “I’d rather have them all trapped than have one of them running around.”
“Very well,” Tira said. “Follow me, and I will show you the room where you will change your world.”
“Well, that was an interesting hour,” Thorn said. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of an elaborate arcane seal painted on the wooden floor. Each of the fey treasures sat in a similar seal, spread around the room. Drix was lying on his back in a circle in the very center of the room, adjusting the pulleys on his crossbow. Cadrel paced around the edge of the chamber. “I’m not even sure which ridiculous claim to begin with. Drix here is the cause of the Mourning. Drix is the only thing that saved us from the Mourning. The shards of shrapnel in my back are ancient artifacts of great power, despite the fact that they have no magical auras and were, well, shrapnel. And now some ancient champion—who I dreamed about, by the way—has appeared from the past to either save us all or incite the spires against us. I couldn’t quite tell. Is that about it?”
“Well—”
Thorn cut Cadrel off before he could complete his sentence. “Oh, and Drix is both a Cannith heir and the prince of a long-forgotten kingdom.”
“I liked that part,” Drix chimed in. He tested the pull on the crossbow.
“Still—” Cadrel began.
“Oh, and let’s not forget that your Covenant of the Gray Mist was created to unlock the secrets of the Mourning so they could be used against the rest of us. Anything you’d like to add to that, Essyn?”
“You’re not a fool,” Cadrel said, “so don’t play the part. Yes, we wanted to harness the power of the Mourning. But tell me, do you truly believe that your Citadel isn’t working on the same thing? That the Royal Eyes of Aundair don’t have teams in the Mournland this very moment?”
“The Royal Eyes are bastards, I’ll give you that. But—”
“The Mourning is the greatest mystery of the age,” Cadrel continued. “And the greatest opportunity. We fought each other for a hundred years. The Mourning ended the war in one day, and fear of the Mourning is the only thing that keeps that war at bay. Whoever harnesses that power will dominate the next age.”
“And you want it to be Cyre?”
“I suppose you want it to be Breland? We had the best claim to the succession. We lost our home to this power. The Mourning took everything from us. If we could use it to get it all back, we had to try. Oargev never knew the true purpose of the Covenant, of course. There’s quite a lot the young prince doesn’t know. And now it seems the Covenant has its own ideas … unfortunately.”
Thorn sighed. “I wish I could argue with you, but I’m sure you’re right. Aundair, Karrnath, even Breland … I’m sure they’re all trying to harness the power of the Mourning. Which brings us to the next point. All of these nations, pouring their gold into studying the Mourning. And now they say it’s Drix. Do you think you can turn him into a weapon?”
“I don’t think I’d be a very good weapon,” Drix said. “But any design can be improved.”
Cadrel laughed. “No. I don’t think stabbing children is the next evolution of warfare. Besides that, if you believe that story, I don’t think it was simply a matter of someone stabbing Drix. I think it had to be the queen.