The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [3]
Kalakhesh. The alien voice hissed in Thorn’s mind. It sent a shiver of fear through her, like a nightmare she had thought she’d forced from her memory. You have taken something from the Daughters of Sora Kell, silent singer. I will have the book, and your secrets with it.
“Lovely,” Thorn whispered.
CHAPTER TWO
The City of Graywall Droaam
Eyre 11, 998 YK
The pain fades soon, little thief. The thought rose in her mind, carrying an awful sense of violation and shame, horribly different from her psychic rapport with Steel. The pain fades soon, and I will feast on your knowledge. All that I wish, you will tell me. All that remains, I will devour.
Whatever was out there, it wanted the stolen book. She had to escape before Kalakhesh revealed the book’s new owner, and there was only one way out of the Bloody Tooth. But Thorn had no intention of charging blindly into the unknown. She whispered a phrase she’d learned at the Citadel, letting her fingers dance along with the syllables, and as she spoke she could feel the power building within her. A tingling sensation swept over her skin as the last syllable left her lips, but there was no time to evaluate the results of her spell.
As soon as she’d made the final gesture, she began again, working her way through another incantation. This one was more difficult, and she could feel the energy fighting her; just speaking the words of the spell was a challenge, each syllable forced through her lips. This was a ritual of invisibility, and as she finished she saw her hands fade before her. A wondrous gift for a spy, but with limitations. The veil lasted for only a few minutes, and it required a balance of intention—the magic hid her from enemies, but if she harmed another, the spell would shatter and she would be revealed.
Thorn mouthed a silent, instinctive prayer to Olladra as she crept along the fissure, and thought of her father. He had raised her in the faith of the Sovereign Host, before the gods abandoned him to die in the Last War. She quietly drew her sharpest dagger—even if Olladra was listening, trust in her blades was more reliable than trust in any miracle.
There was no time to discuss the situation with Steel, and she trusted that he’d keep silent; she couldn’t afford distractions. It took only a moment to reach the mouth of the tunnel, and trusting her invisibility, Thorn stepped into the open room.
Kalakhesh stood before her. His muscles were rigid, veins standing out like thick twine, and his bag lay on the floor beside him. The patrons of the Bloody Tooth watched from the shadows—goblin, gnoll, and gargoyle alike shocked into silence by the presence of the creature walking slowly toward Kalakhesh. The stranger wore a robe of black and red silk, with a high collar rising around his head. He was as gaunt as an old man, skin stretched tight across his bones. But this was no man. His oily flesh was the pale green of a dying toad. Four tentacles emerged from his chin, writhing and clutching at the air. His eyes were pale, bloated orbs with no trace of iris or pupil. His appearance was horrifying, but worse, as he drew closer, Thorn could feel the creature’s thoughts wash over her … a ripple of malevolence, an echo of every humiliation she’d tried to forget.
Mind flayer, Steel whispered.
Despite the growing influence of the Daughters of Sora Kell, the land of Droaam was a realm ruled by fear. Ogres and harpies easily terrified humans, but it took something truly horrifying to frighten them. Mind flayers could read thoughts and crush the willpower of any being, and they fed on the brains of the living. This tentacled monster wasn’t lying. He would enslave Kalakhesh, and when the goblin had revealed everything, the flayer would consume what was left of his mind.
Xorchylic, Steel said. The lord of Graywall. Any flayer would be dangerous, but you cannot fight this one. We must leave. NOW!
Thorn knew he was right, and yet she hesitated. The mind flayer moved slowly, basking in the terror of the audience. Paralyzed by psychic