The Gates of Night_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [69]
“Don’t worry, Darkheart,” Ferric said. “You’ll find my home a fair one … once we’ve established the order of things.”
Lei’s face paled, and she took a step toward Daine. Her hand tightened around the staff. Daine reached out, taking her arm. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do that to her.”
Daine didn’t know what Lei was talking about, but it didn’t matter. This was his mess. “Well,” he said, and the sound of his ghastly voice brought tears to her eyes. “There’s no deal.”
Ferric smiled, his pointed teeth gleaming in the firelight. “As you wish. I come out ahead either way. I will enjoy your fine—”
The innkeeper’s eyes widened as the point of an ivory blade burst through his throat. No blood flowed from mouth and wound. Instead there were wisps of smoke and the faintest whispers.
“Open your mouth!” It was Xu’sasar. The drow girl pulled her blade from the innkeeper’s neck, and shoved the wounded man. Ferric staggered a few steps and collapsed at Daine’s feet. Now smoke was pouring from the dying man’s neck, and a terrible scream filled the air–Daine’s scream.
Daine opened his mouth without thinking. The nebulous smoke converged into a tight column and flowed down his throat, and now he was screaming as it burned within him. He was screaming. With his own voice. “Flame!” he said, marveling at how wonderful it sounded.
“What have you done, girl?” Huwen flew across the room and landed next to Ferric’s twisted form. “You can’t kill the likes of him. Not here!”
Lei seemed just as shocked. The staff had fallen silent, and Lei knelt over the corpse. Ferric’s body seemed to be collapsing in on itself. “He’s right. The tales—”
“It seems our people tell different tales,” Xu’sasar said. “I suggest we leave.”
“You would kill my husband, and leave me his corpse? You would break an honorable vow?” It was the voice of an old woman, cold and penetrating. For all that it was a rasp and a whisper, it carried over the chaos and brought silence in its wake. A woman stood in the corner of the room, and despite her stooped posture she stood almost as tall as Pierce. She stepped into the light, and Daine saw that she had withered vines in place of hair, and her skin was rough gray bark. Her limbs were long and twisted. Daine knew little of magic, but he was no fool. The Inn of the Crooked Tree, the gray trunk rising up through the center. And Ferric’s warning … the Crooked Tree will be no safe haven after my death.
“I would,” Xu’sasar said. She raised a bone blade. “Behold the Wanderer’s Tooth, withered old tree. Husband and vow, both fall to its edge.”
“Aye,” the dryad said. “A foul thing indeed. I pity you, child.” She looked at the others. Daine’s sword was still in his hand, Pierce had his last arrow nocked and ready, and the darkwood staff was steady in Lei’s hand. “With your vile claw and dear Lady Darkheart, you might even bring me down.” She shook her head. “Ferric should have known better. And I hardly approve of his interest in you, Darkheart. I suppose he deserved his fate.”
“So what happens now?” Daine said, still crouched and ready to strike. The sound of his voice was music to his ears.
“You take what food you require and leave,” the dryad said. “And never seek shelter beneath my boughs again.”
Daine nodded. He took a step back and slowly sheathed his weapon. “You are gracious, lady. I am sorry to have brought sorrow to your door.”
“Just take it with you, child. And never return.”
Daine turned to the others. “You heard her. Grab some grub and let’s be on our way.” He wasn’t thrilled with the thought of eating Ferric’s food, but his stomach was rumbling, so he took a loaf of bread and a wineskin. He looked back at the old dryad. Huwen was perched on her arm, and she was talking quietly with the bird.
“Let’s go,” Daine called out to the others. As he made his way to the door, something caught his eye: Ferric’s corpse. At first it seemed that the body had disintegrated. All that was left was an empty set of clothes. Then Daine saw the withered body of a weasel, poking out from the