The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [70]
“In which case, saving them and leaving them in Breland’s debt may be the best outcome.”
Yes, even if only one has agreed to negotiate, it’s still a worthwhile outcome. Of course, if you could acquire the stone in Drix’s chest yourself, you know Breland could use immortal soldiers.
“And that’s my real question,” Thorn said. “The shards in my back. Why do they believe that they are fey treasures?”
Why do you believe that they aren’t?
“You told me they weren’t magical!”
They do not radiate an aura of magical energy. That’s a far cry from saying they aren’t magical.
“So you think they’re shielded.”
It’s the most logical explanation. “The Quiet Stone,” they called it. What if its power is to conceal? I know that you’re trained to resist divinations, but your talent for it has always been remarkable. I’ve never been able to detect the aura of any item in your possession. Even now, I know your inventory—your gloves, bracers, shiftweave, pack—but I can’t read the auras of any of it.
“So let’s pretend that is indeed the case, that there’s a magic stone in my back and I’ve never known about it. How is that possible?”
The shards were already there when I was assigned to work with you. I was told it was an accident during the mission at Far Passage.
“That’s right. We were sent to sabotage an arcane core. There were hundreds of dragonshards bound to the core—I was struck by a score of them. Our fey friends said one of these stones was stolen by a dragon. How’d they end up in the hands of an Aundairian arcanist? And how does it just happen to be the stone that hits me?”
It does seem rather unlikely. I fail to see any more logical alternative, however.
“I wish I did. None of this makes sense.”
I’m more concerned about Essen Cadrel. If we are to believe what he said, it sounds as though this eladrin had been impersonating him for an extended period of time … since he first reappeared following the Mourning and took his position in Oargev’s retinue.
“It would explain how Oargev’s childhood jester developed the skill to be a spymaster,” Thorn said.
To what end? This Shan Doresh seems focused on vengeance against the other eladrin. So why infiltrate the Cyran court? And if he accomplished that so easily … Do they have agents in other nations?
“You’re right,” Thorn said. “Something doesn’t add up. Keep thinking about it. That’s our destination up ahead. Stay alert. Strange auras, the slightest fluctuation in mystical energy … if you sense anything, you tell me.”
Understood.
The hippogriffs dropped down toward Ascalin. Thorn blinked, squinting down at the streets below. There were people on the streets, and the cold-fire lanterns were still burning. She could see a crowd gathered around a street performer, a man performing tricks with trained animals. After the lonely desolation of Seaside and the slow rot of the Silver Tree, it seemed impossibly mundane. She could see farmers selling their wares in the small market square, a group of children playing circle games, a procession leaving the temple of the Sovereign Host. For a moment she smiled. Then she realized something was terribly wrong.
No one was moving.
The children were frozen in their game. The spectators were raising their arms to cheer for the performing, but there were no cries of joy, no laughter, no applause. It was a moment frozen in time. And there was something else. Where the cold-fire lanterns spread their light, Thorn could see that the city was gleaming. It seemed as though the city were covered with a thin layer of ice, for all that it was too warm for anything to freeze. But she could see the light reflecting off every surface and even off the people standing around the lampposts.
Thorn held Steel out