The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [115]
Lord Beren bowed slightly. “No, Sora Katra, I do not. I hope that Droaam will enjoy a long and peaceful relationship with Breland. But it takes more than military power and intimidation to earn the respect of the Thronehold nations.”
Except for Valenar … and Darguun … and some days, Karrnath, Steel observed.
Thorn was the only one who could hear Steel’s remarks, and she struggled to keep the smile off her face as Beren continued.
“During this journey, you and your people have forced me to reconsider my views of humanity. It is all too easy for us to fear the unknown or that which is dangerous. Many of your people deserve our trust and respect instead of our fear, but that means nothing if you, as the rulers of the nation, cannot distinguish between the two. The fact that you could allow this event to occur is sufficient cause for us to decline your petition at the present time.”
“The present time is the only time, Lord Beren. There will not be another.”
“Be that as it may, Sora Katra, we have made our decision. And we will expect reparations for the losses we have suffered on this journey.”
“You and your comrades will be given safe passage to Graywall, Lord Beren. Beyond that, I offered you the chance to change the fate of nations, and you have. This will have consequences, Lord Beren. I wish you well … until we meet again.”
Sora Maenya’s laughter echoed through the hall as the gnolls escorted the delegates out.
Ghyrryn and Sheshka had both come to bid the travelers farewell.
“Few of you survive, so fewer wagons are needed,” Ghyrryn explained. “I now serve a greater need in the Crag.”
“Well, at least our loss is your gain.” Thorn produced the myrnaxe. “Do you wish to take this back?”
“You will not return a gift,” Ghyrryn said, surprised. “We are brothers. And you may need it again.”
“I suppose I may.” It saddened her to think that they might meet again on opposite sides of a battlefield. “Good hunting, brother.”
Sheshka waited nearby, her eyes closed. She touched her palm to Thorn’s. “Trust a gnoll to see a brother when one clearly has a sister,” she said.
There was little more to say that had not already been said, and Beren, Stormblade, and Thorn climbed aboard their wagon. Sheshka, Thorn, and Stormblade had spent much of the previous night talking and sampling the strange liquors of Cazhaak Draal.
In light of her service, the Daughters had offered Sheshka the title of Warlord General, a position second only to the Three. While she had always had doubts, and a desire to rule a greater territory alone, Sheshka found that she had come to believe in Droaam. She might find a sister in Thorn, or a friend in Stormblade, and they would always be welcome in Cazhaak Draal. But her people would always be feared in the world beyond. In Droaam they had the chance to create something magnificent. Thorn could feel the tension that remained between Sheshka and Harryn, but whatever lingered there, it was something neither intended to discuss openly.
As for Harryn Stormblade, the news of the Last War and the fall of Galifar was a great blow. But he believed that the kingdom would rise again, and given his experiences in Droaam, he was likely to see Breland’s claim in a positive light, which was exactly what the Citadel wanted. If and when the war began anew, having the Shield of the Crown as Boranel’s champion would be a powerful propaganda tool. The challenge, of course, would be to keep Harryn from realizing just how he was being used. For the moment, he was a handsome and upstanding man, he owed Thorn a considerable debt, and they had a week’s wagon ride to Graywall ahead. She looked forward to seeing what developed.
But all of these—drinking with Sheshka, sparring and joking with Harryn—were just ways to ignore the things that were truly bothering her. So much about that final day made no sense. Clearly, Sora Teraza had known about Drul Kantar’s plot. Presumably, she