The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [38]
Ghyrryn was the first on his feet. He had a lantern in one hand, filled with cold fire. “Remain together,” he said, assertive as ever. “Go where we say. The Crag is full of dangers, and you will not place yourself at risk. Listen to your guards. Obey the Drul. Now follow.”
The gnoll threw open the canvas flap, holding up the lantern to light the way. The chamber beyond was pitch black. Most of the creatures who lived in Droaam could see in darkness, and the Crag wasn’t designed for those who preferred the light of the sun. Many of the delegates were moving gingerly in the darkness, but Thorn’s enchanted ring allowed her to see through the shadows beyond the torchlight.
The Crag was astonishing. The chamber was enor-mous—the wagons were surrounded by open space, and the curving ceiling was at least fifty feet above her. The walls seemed to be the raw stone of the mountain, but they were too smooth and even to be natural. This was the product of magic or fine craftsmen.
The gnolls led the envoys deeper into the chamber. Goblins scurried about, tending to the draft animals and retrieving luggage. Thorn detected large, hunched figures standing at the very edge of her vision—trolls and ogres. The flickers from the gnolls’ torches gave hints about the fearsome weapons they carried. Guards … I hope, she thought to herself.
Movement in the air above drew her attention. She looked up, but saw nothing. She was certain something had been there—she’d felt the motion.
An orb hung above them in the chamber, and it began to glow faintly. Its light grew brighter until it shimmered with the pale radiance of a full moon. The light revealed the giant soldiers ringing the chamber, huge creatures dressed in leather and steel.
Below the light, where Thorn had sensed movement, a massive figure stood proudly, feet firmly planted on nothing but air. Pale blue skin gleamed in the magical light, and muscles rippled as he stared down at them. He had the physique of an ogre, the bearing of a barbarian king, and a gleam of intelligence in his eyes. He wore black silk with silver trim, and two horns rose from his forehead. He was handsome and fierce, and Thorn couldn’t help but think of the tales of demon princes of Shavarath. But he was no demon. He was an oni, an ogre mage—mighty and magical, but still a native of Eberron.
“Honored guests!” His voice was deep and rich, with the timbre of a master storyteller. “You have traveled far and faced great dangers. Your journey is at an end. I am Drul Kantar, and I welcome you in the name of the Daughters of Sora Kell, benevolent queens of the sovereign nation of Droaam.
“I will serve as your guardian and guide in the days that lie ahead. It will be my honor to learn your ways and teach you ours, to help us become one people here and in the world beyond. But let us leave the business of diplomacy to the morrow. You have all made sacrifices to be here, and my queens wish to reward you for your journey.
“Tonight you will be our guests at a grand celebration, presided over by the glorious Sora Katra herself. Lords and ladies, prepare yourselves for an evening that will become legend for centuries to come. We stand on the precipice of history. Now let us leap!”
As he spoke the final syllable, the vizier spread his hands wide and fireworks burst forth from his outstretched fingers, brilliant serpents that danced among the delegates below. The ogres and gnolls roared their approval, and a few of the envoys joined in the applause. Thorn was impressed. Whoever this Drul Kantar was, there was no denying his charisma.
“Looks like it’s going to be an interesting night,” she murmured.
Indeed, said Steel. Now get to work.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Great Crag
Droaam
Eyre 18, 998 YK
Diplomatic accommodations.” Beren snorted, glaring at the tiny chamber. “Boldrei’s bloody feet! This isn’t a guest suite—it’s a prison cell!”
“The Daughters may have more prisoners than noble guests, my lord,” Thorn said, setting Beren’s bags on the floor. She was accustomed to working