The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [60]
The ghaele all looked at Tira. “I don’t understand,” the veiled lady said. “What is it you accuse me of?”
“I’m not accusing you,” Thorn said. Steel was in her hand, and his point was pressed against Cadrel’s throat.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Mournland
Barrakas 24, 999 YK
Cadrel laughed. “Well done, my dear.”
Then he was gone.
But he didn’t go far enough. Thorn had her full attention on the bard, her supernatural senses keyed to any trace of his motion. Even as she felt the air rush in to fill the void in space, she felt a displacement to her left, just at the door to the chamber. It was an excellent trick. Not only did he teleport, but he’d wrapped himself in invisibility; the doorway seemed to be empty. But Thorn could feel his presence, and she let that instinct guide her as she threw Steel.
Cadrel cried out in pain as the blade caught him in the back of the knee. Blood spattered across the floor as he returned to view, falling to the ground. Quickly Syraen was upon him. The winter lord wrapped one hand around Cadrel’s neck and lifted him off the ground. There was a sharp chill in the air, and ice formed around the bard—a layer of frost that grew and spread, becoming a coffin binding Cadrel, leaving only his head free.
“What is this?” Tira said, her eyes flashing.
Thorn walked over to the trapped man. “Do you want to tell them, Essyn? Is that even your name?”
Cadrel grinned. “Not the one I was born with, no. But it’s good enough for you.”
Thorn turned to look at Tira. “No one could teleport into or out of your vault. Yet somehow, our enemies did. But why? How did they know where we were? What treasures you possessed? What do they even think they’ll do with your shards? It seems that I have two of them, and they’ve brought me only pain.”
“Explain yourself,” Syraen said.
“Cadrel said it himself, just moments ago,” Thorn replied. “When this journey began, these soldiers attacked the prince of Cyre. It had nothing to do with you or your gems. It was his fear, the fear that his people would turn against him.”
“So?”
“At sea, the captain faced an old nightmare, a weapon she’d hoped never to see again, and one that claimed her life. On land, my suspicions were confirmed when it seemed that we’d been followed. But even then I was afraid that we’d been followed. But I didn’t know what my enemies wanted. And nothing they said explained it. Only here did they seem to have a purpose … and one that made no sense. If they were following us, using us to get to you, why try to kill the prince in the first place? And possessing scrying and teleportation magic … this Covenant of the Gray Mist may be a tough group of soldiers, but they don’t have the resources for that sort of magic.”
“I was scrying on the vault,” Tira said. “I saw what occurred.”
“You saw what you feared,” Thorn said. “As we’ve seen since this journey began. Nightmares made manifest. And who was present at every occasion? My friend Essyn Cadrel, a man who had no true need to be in the vault with us.” She set Steel back against his throat. “When I took the wand from Cazalan in Seaside, it vanished when the fight was over. When I touched him in the vault, I felt no life in him. I don’t think he teleported. I think he was never there to begin with.”
“Then where are the stones?” Syraen said.
“I thought glamour was your specialty,” Thorn said. “If I had to guess, I’d say they were wrapped in illusion. Hidden so we couldn’t see them. And that you gave them to Shan Doresh just before he left, didn’t you, Cadrel?”
He laughed. “The Citadel should be proud. Too little and too late, of course, but well done.”
“Who are you really?” she said. “I’ve seen you cloak yourself in illusion, back during the attack on the prince. And then you brought his nightmares to life. But why?”
Cadrel smiled and as he did, his face changed. His beard turned to smoke and drifted away. His skin became soft and smooth, suffused with a rosy hue. His ears became long and pointed, with silky, black hair flowing around them. He