The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [31]
“There’s no need to exaggerate,” Drego said reproachfully.
“Once I start, it’s hard to stop.”
Drego and Thorn sat in the woods on the edge of the Brelish-Thrane campsite. Jharl had spotted them as they returned to camp, but Thorn had already changed her clothes to her traveling gown. As she explained to the gnoll, the two were just enjoying the night and debating the issues that lay between their two nations.
“Impressive work, though,” Thorn said. “You summoned the hawk, and the casting didn’t break your invisibility. But why didn’t I hear the words of the spell? Summoning can be noisy magic.”
“Not for me,” Drego said. He waved a finger in the air, and a spark of silver light flickered on the tip.
Duly noted, Thorn thought. She knew it was possible to cast spells without speaking—certainly a useful talent for a spy. But it took vastly more energy to cast a silent spell, and it was a difficult skill to learn; Thorn had tried with no success. It occurred to her that the Thrane minister Luala had remained silent while performing her healing magic earlier … apparently, the Thranes had a gift for it. Still, it was unwise of him to flaunt it. Now she knew that if she ever needed to subdue Drego, she’d need more than a gag.
Drego stared into the tiny flame. Thorn reached out and ran her fingers gently across his other hand. “So what happens now?” she said.
Her touch broke his concentration and the spark of light vanished. He turned to meet her gaze. His eyes were gray, but the light of the moons turned them silver. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not proposing marriage, and if I see you in Breland I’ll probably cut your throat. But as long as it’s us versus them … I think we can work together.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled, lifting her hand and touching his lips to her gloved fingers. “And the marriage will have to wait until you convert, anyhow. I have my faith to consider.”
“We have other things to discuss. What did you make of that meeting?”
Drego released her hand, a pained expression on his face. “Very well, my lady, very well. To the matter at hand.”
“Droaam is a young nation. The Daughters of Sora Kell arrived less than twenty years ago. Before that …”
“Chaos,” Drego said. “My people know more of it than most. Crusaders of the faith would often venture into the savage lands of the west, dedicating their lives to destroying all the evil that they could until they themselves fell in battle. Few returned, but some journals have been recovered.”
“And what qualifies as ‘evil’ in this tale?”
“Any monster that would threaten the settlers to the east … people of Breland, I’d like to point out. So my ancestors gave their lives to protect yours. If not for my great-greatgrandfather, you might never have been born.”
Thorn refrained from pointing out that her mother wasn’t even from Khorvaire. “So we’re practically brother and sister.”
Drego placed his hand over hers, and his smile wasn’t exactly fraternal. “I wouldn’t go that far. But in those days, there was no semblance of a nation. Ogres, trolls, giants—the stronger creatures enslaved the weak. When Galifar collapsed into war, the beasts of Droaam became more aggressive, but their attacks were still random, uncoordinated.”
“And then the Daughters of Sora Kell arrived.”
“Yes. Force is the only language these warlords understand, and thirteen years ago, the hags appeared with an army of trolls and other creatures. I don’t know about you, but we’ve never been able to determine how they gathered such a powerful force in secret. Within a year, their opponents were either dead or sworn vassals. And here we are today.”
“Sworn vassals are only as good as the oaths binding them,” Thorn said. “From what I’ve heard, some in this land are glad to serve the Daughters. The gnolls are supposed to be a loyal bunch. But fear is the mortar that holds Droaam together, and if you’re a tyrannical giant, it may hurt to bend your knee to some tiny crone.”
“Which brings us to tonight’s encounter. Did you recognize the name Callain?”
It meant