The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [2]
Thorn nodded. The goblin hid his feelings well, but she could see the tension in his stance, preparation for battle or betrayal. But she intended neither. She drew her dagger and passed it slowly over the heavy book. The furrow of crimson steel running down the center of the blade burned with a faint light. Thorn said nothing, waiting for the whisper in her mind.
Tell him to open it, Steel said.
Thorn relayed the request, and Kalakhesh turned to a random page. Light filled the room, vellum glowing with a pale white radiance. The image of a knight in silver armor facing a dragon with blood-red scales and flames dripping from its vast maw caught Thorn’s eye. The artistry was astonishing, both the sharpness of the lines and the brilliance of the color. Thorn half expected the flames to burn through the page, or to see the image take life as the warrior leaped to dodge the snapping jaws. With a conscious effort, she pulled her eyes away from the picture and glanced at the facing page.
The sheet was covered in words written in gleaming golden ink. In her peripheral vision, she’d seen a spidery, alien alphabet. Yet as she looked at the text, it flowed before her eyes, resolving into new shapes and intelligible words. It was an account of the action seen in the picture—the legendary knight Harryn Stormblade’s encounter with Sarmondelaryx, the Bane of Thrane.
Fascinating. It was the first time Thorn had heard any hint of surprise in Steel’s voice. I can’t imagine how this was made. This is what we are looking for, Lantern Thorn. Pay him and return to safer ground.
And then I want some answers, Thorn thought. She couldn’t voice her questions around the goblin, so she sheathed the dagger and nodded to Kalakhesh.
“Satisfied?” The goblin closed the book and the light faded.
“Yes.” Holding out her hand, Thorn stared at her palm, tracing an arcane pattern with her thoughts. With her mind, she reached into her glove, into the small pocket of space mystically bound to the leather. She pulled, and a leather pouch appeared in her palm. Tugging at the cords, she held the bag open so Kalakhesh could see the glittering red stones within. “Twenty thousand galifars in Narathun rubies. Do you want to inspect them?”
“Unlike you, I have confidence in my allies,” Kalakhesh smiled, his eyes cold. “I doubt your Citadel would risk the wrath of the Silent Knives for such a small sum.” He slid the book toward Thorn, reaching out for the treasure bag. He released the book as his fingers tightened on the pouch, and he rose to his feet.
Thorn ran the fingers of her left hand across the cover of the book. Even through her gloves, the leather felt warm and soft, all too close to human flesh. She pressed her palm against the book and concentrated; the tome vanished, drawn into the space vacated by the pouch of gems. “How did you get it?”
She didn’t expect a response, but the goblin surprised her. “Luck, more than anything,” he said. “And not a risk I’d take again, knowing what I would gain. I’d hoped to find a treasure for my people, not a curiosity for yours that would drive me from this country. I am glad to be done with it, and it is well enough that I am done with this place and still alive.” Kalakhesh put the gems in his sack and threw the larger bag over his shoulder. “Give me a few steps before you follow.”
Thorn nodded and moved out of his way. “Good fortune on your return.”
“And you. Stay to the shadows. This is a bad place for my kind, and far worse for yours.”
Kalakhesh disappeared around the bend in the tunnel.
The sounds of the brawl had ended, and Thorn wondered if the ogre had won her bout. If so, she’d probably be fighting again by the time Thorn emerged. They didn’t call it The Bloody Tooth for nothing. Thorn resolved to give him the count of two hundred before she followed.
Five.
Ten.
PAIN!
Every nerve in Thorn’s body burned in agony. She fought against the pain, refusing to pass out. She clung to it, analyzed it, anything to distract her from the torment. And then it was over, leaving