The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [61]
“I’m Essyn Cadrel,” he said. “Or I have been for as long as you’ve known him. I’ve stood at the prince’s side since the Day of Mourning, planting the seeds of doubt and fear in his mind. And I’m Cazalan Dal. I’ve been many others since my return. But I was born Kalas Tan Doresh, a child of the Fortress of Dreams. I fought by the side of my lord when the eladrin of the Silver Tree fled in fear, and I suffered with him in the long nightmare that followed. Once I wove dreams. Now I can make your nightmares reality. And so I have.”
“The knife,” Drix said suddenly. “The shifting blade. Like those in the hands of the Covenant. A blade of dreams, shifting to become a murder weapon in my grasp. A nightmare.”
“Much like the death of a beloved prince,” Cadrel said. “Yes. It was our hand that guided you to that path, our hands that slew your son, Tira. We who gave you the tools of your destruction.”
“Kalas?” Tira whispered. “Why would you do this? Why would Doresh?”
Cadrel shook his head. “I’ve said all that I will tell you for free, fallen queen.”
Syraen stepped forward and Thorn could feel the temperature drop around him. “You seek to bargain, thief? I will freeze the blood in your veins. I will chip away your flesh until you beg to share your secrets.”
The former spymaster smiled. “I look forward to it. You cannot imagine the things I’ve seen, the nightmares I’ve experienced.” He glanced at the assembled fey. “Oh, I’d hoped to escape. I didn’t think any of you were bright enough to see through the game. But I knew there was the chance you’d capture me. I know exactly what you can do. Freeze my flesh. Scour me with thorns. Strip the joy from my soul. In time you might break me, yes. But not time enough for you.”
The chill grew deeper as Syraen stared at the prisoner. He glanced back at the others, and Thorn could feel the doubt weighing down on them all. She didn’t know exactly what those stones of theirs did, but it was clear that the loss was a very heavy blow; it seemed as if all the fire had gone out of them.
Then she considered Cadrel’s words again. “You’ve said all you’ll say … for free.”
Cadrel looked at her, the smile still on his face. His eyes were deep shadows, but she could imagine the twinkle of the old man. “Yes.”
“What is it you want?” Tira hissed.
“I’ve already taken everything you have to offer me,” he replied.
“You’ve taken all they have,” Thorn said. She reached back and ran her fingers over the stone in her neck. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
Cadrel’s smile widened. “If only it were that simple, dear girl. Still, you have something these old twigs lack.”
Thorn took a step toward him. “And what would that be? Don’t tell me you want secrets of the Citadel?”
Cadrel laughed. “No, I am done with your kingdoms now. There is only one thing you can give me.”
The room was utterly still; around her, the fey lords might have been statues. “And that would be?”
“What would any man want from such a lovely young lady? A kiss, of course.”
Thorn shook her head, sighing. She’d been drawn in by the tension of the moment, by the energy of it, but of course it had all been a game. Then she noticed that the eladrin were still watching her. The tension hadn’t vanished. If it were a joke, she was the only one who could see it. “Wait,” she said. “You’re not serious?”
“Of course not,” Tira said. Her veil flowed as she stepped forward, laying a hand on Thorn’s shoulder. “We could never ask such a thing of you.” Her voice was cold and grim.
“An easy thing for you to say, Lady of the Silver Tree.” It was the Lord of Emerald Lights who spoke, his radiant attendants subdued. “You already were doomed when this day began.”
“You dare—”
The room fell into chaos, the lords and ladies shouting at one another. Ice spread where the Lord of Taer Syraen struck