The Gates of Night_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [67]
“Daine,” she said, gazing into his eyes.
For a moment he was lost again, and Pierce and Xu’sasar were forgotten. He tried to speak, to tell her his feelings, but his throat was empty and his tongue could not shape the air.
Lei could see that something was wrong. Xu’sasar’s words must have finally registered. “What’s happened to you?” she said, joy turning to concern.
Daine shook his head and made a dismissive gesture with his free hand.
“He loaned his voice to the innkeeper in exchange for our lodging,” Pierce said.
“What do you mean, loaned his voice?” Lei said, eyes widening.
“Just that,” Pierce replied. “I do not understand the magic involved, my lady. The innkeeper employed necromantic energies to remove Daine’s voice from his body. I have heard him making use of it downstairs, while you have been sleeping. He vowed to return it to Daine when we left. Hopefully we can trust his word.”
Lei turned and slapped Daine, leaving an angry red mark across his cheek. What? He tried to say, with no success.
“What did you think you were doing?” Lei said. As surprised as Daine was, he now saw that fear, not anger, drove her. “Making deals with these people? Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said about this place? Haven’t you read a damned story in your life?”
“I told him the same,” Xu’sasar said, but Lei wasn’t listening.
I did it for you, Daine thought, and I’d do it again.
Lei pulled her hand away from him. “We’re leaving. Now.” She strode across the room and grabbed her satchel. “Pierce, I want to see this innkeeper.”
“My lady, you have been ill. We do not even know what you have been through. Perhaps this is not the time for a conv—”
Lei reached into her satchel and pulled out the darkwood staff. The staff moaned, a clear note of warning and woe. “Pierce, take me to this innkeeper or get out of my way so I can find him myself.”
“As you wish,” Pierce said. Daine had just finished pulling on his chainmail byrnie. Buckling his belt, he grabbed his boots and rushed after them.
The fire still burned in the common room, and the fiddler was playing a merry tune. Huwen the crow chuckled and cawed as Daine entered the room. The bird’s wild gestures proved that his wings had been healed, and he was chattering to Ferric, pecking at a crust of bread and occasionally dipping his beak in a wide cup. The portly innkeeper guffawed at one of Huwen’s jokes, and Daine winced at the sound of his own laughter. He glanced around the room, but it seemed that the two other patrons had taken their leave.
“You,” said Lei, striding across the room.
Ferric turned with a smile, but his face froze when he saw the darkwood staff leveled at his throat. There was a moment of fear, but Daine saw something else in his eyes, as if he had just recognized a stranger behind a mask.
“Lady … Lei,” Ferric said, and it was Daine’s voice, full of emotion, the voice he would have used when he saw her in the dim light of the gray room.
“You don’t know me,” Lei said coolly. “You made a deal with my friend. We’re here to settle the bill.”
As she spoke, the unseen fiddler changed his tune, increasing the tempo to a jolly jig. The music wormed its way into Daine’s mind, pushing away thoughts, encouraging him to forget his troubles and dance. Even Pierce began tapping his foot. Then the darkwood staff answered the tune. Her song was one of loss and sorrow, and Daine didn’t need to hear the words to be affected by the dirge. The voice of the staff shattered the cheery tune, and Daine could gather his thoughts again.
“Try that again and I’ll feed you your fiddle,” Lei said. She glared across the room, and following her stare Daine finally saw the source of the music. The fiddler was a tiny man, and only magic could account for the volume of his music; his instrument was little more than a toy. The musician’s head might have reached the top of Daine’s knee if he stood as straight as he could. His jacket was soft brown velvet, buttoned with gemstone shards, and he had the lower body of a grasshopper.