The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [99]
Doresh looked back at her. “Arrogant child. You think you understand me?”
“I have no idea what you want. I just know what you don’t want, and that’s to restore the Silver Tree. I’ve seen the army of terrors you’re building in this place, and I know you didn’t show this face to the Council of the Silver Tree. Cadrel—or whoever he really was—said that you’ve suffered. He said that you’ve been dragged through nightmares and now you want to drag the others with you.”
Doresh said nothing.
“Which means that what you’re doing now isn’t for their benefit. I just don’t know what it is.” She glanced at Drix.
Then she saw it.
“You never expected Tira to make the sacrifice in the first place. You knew she’d stab Drix. You never expected her to save him.”
Doresh watched her silently, his shadowy eyes unreadable.
“You and the others—you think that Drix somehow stopped the Mourning from spreading. You weren’t expecting that. You thought it was going to spread across the entire nation, that it would reach all of the fey cities, not just the Silver Tree.”
“Yes,” Doresh hissed. “We wanted them all to suffer as we have. Let every living thing feel our pain. And yes, I will remove the stone from this boy’s chest, and once he is dead, the blight will spread again. And my armies will be ready. We will move through that darkness, a force of nightmare ready to bring this tale to its proper conclusion. To end in glorious battle, as it began.”
Try as she might, Thorn still couldn’t bring herself to believe that Drix had anything to do with the Mourning, either causing it or holding it in check. Nonetheless, she’d seen the horrors Shan Doresh was readying below; that was enough cause for concern. When he killed Drix and the Mourning didn’t spread, the forces assembled there could still cause carnage. Then there was Cadrel.
“Wait,” she said. “You needed Drix and me to come here.”
He nodded, smiling again.
“In the end, you didn’t even expect the blame to fall on the Cyrans. You wanted Cadrel to get caught so they’d know you had the stones and, knowing that you would sense them coming, that they’d send us to get them.”
“Yes,” Doresh said. “That was Kalas’s part, to let them know that we had defeated them, beginning to end. That we’d placed the blade in the queen’s hand and that she had driven it into the heart of the Silver Tree. That they would have to rely on creatures of dirt to win back their greatest treasures.”
“So Cadrel, the Cyran scheme—you expected me to see through it. You had a spy in place for years so that, when the time came, he could fail.”
“You cannot understand us. One of your years is as nothing to us. The people of my citadel—we have spent thousands of your lifetimes wandering nightmares.”
“And that’s the strangest part of this,” Thorn said. “You set up this impossibly complicated scheme, all to show your cousins how clever you are before watching them suffer and die. You’re doing nothing but gloat. And yet, moments ago, you lied to me about what you’re about to do. I’m northing, dirt, a mere piece in your puzzle. So why lie now?”
Doresh ignored her, examining the relics in the circle.
“Why lead me to believe that this is all for Drix’s benefit, that I should just relax and let it happen, when I can’t possibly escape and battle is futile?”
Doresh looked at her again. “Perhaps cruelty isn’t in my nature. I need you alive for this piece of things. I thought to let you die with peace in your soul.”
“I’ve seen things in these towers that redefine cruelty for me. You’re not doing this for me. Which means there’s only one reason for you to lie. You’re afraid.” A warm glow was spreading up Thorn’s back as she spoke and she smiled.
A sneer spread across Doresh’s mithral mask. “And what could I possibly be afraid of?”
“Me.” Thorn took a step forward, feeling only the slightest tingle as she passed through the ward. “The Quiet Stone is the stone of stealth, and there’s more to that than concealment, isn’t there?”
“You won’t escape again,” Doresh said.