The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [43]
The oni stared at Beren, and Thorn felt a faint charge in the air … magical power? Then he grinned, and the energy faded. The grin turned into a deep belly laugh. He raised a hand to Toli, whose sword was half-drawn from its scabbard. Thorn realized that she’d already drawn Steel, hiding the blade against her arm.
“Your lord is wise,” Kantar said. “Sheathe your weapon, guardian. Yes, we seek the favor of all nations, but Breland is our neighbor and the foe we have fought before, and it is you we most hope to befriend. You are safe here, Beren ir’Wynarn. Enjoy our hospitality, and sleep soundly this night.”
Beren gave a curt nod, and they began walking again. Thorn smiled. With the nerve to face down a giant, he’d be just fine without an aide.
The Daughters had spared no effort on the evening’s feast. The hall was a spectacle of colors and sound, an overwhelming sight after the dull stone walls of the rest of the Crag. Sparks of golden light floated in the air, fey flames that drifted just beyond the reach of guests. A team of goblins darted around a central fire pit, preparing and distributing food. After a week of eating rabbits, the rich aroma of spiced meats and vegetables set Thorn’s mouth watering. Tribex, gorgon, some sort of crustacean the size of a warhorse—there was enough food for an army, and it smelled delicious.
Long tables were set with Riedran crysteel, plates and goblets with the beauty of carved glass but the strength of iron. Music echoed through the hall, the work of a band of goblins in the far corner. The little creatures were producing a frenzied song on pipes, drums, and lute. A dancer accompanied them. Her skin was jet back, and as Thorn watched, flames seemed to dart across her flesh.
Skindancer, Steel whispered. Most changelings use their gifts to impersonate other living creatures, but when you can alter your body, there are many other possibilities.
The skindancer spun in place, and her hair flowed out from her body, taking on a brilliant red hue as it did, as if a cloud of fire had suddenly burst around her. The woman spun faster and faster as the music built to its climax. On the final note, her hair shifted to black and spun in toward her. From a distance, Thorn wasn’t certain the woman was wearing clothes; it seemed that she had just painted patterns on her skin.
“We have changelings in Breland—why haven’t I seen that before?” she murmured.
Because the changelings of the Five Nations hide their abilities. You know how they’re treated, with suspicion and distrust. In a land with harpies and medusas, a shapeshifter isn’t so strange. I’d imagine the changelings of Droaam have more opportunities to explore the full extent of their powers.
But as fascinating as it was, the dancer was just one part of the wild celebration. Tiny gargoyles darted around the curved ceiling, tossing spheres of glowing glass in a display of juggling and acrobatics. Around her, delegates spoke with the lords of Droaam. A Mror dwarf dressed in black and gold roared with laughter at the words of an armored minotaur, and Lord Beren was speaking with a woman dressed in flowing robes of white silk with bronzed leather. No … as Thorn took in the scene, she realized that the leather was the woman’s skin. The living mane that roiled around her shoulders confirmed it. This was a medusa, perhaps the very one Thorn sought. She faced Beren. Clearly, something was blocking her deadly gaze, or there’d be a statue in Beren’s place. Again, Thorn was impressed with Beren. Regardless of the setting, it took courage to stare into the face of a medusa.
This sight was enough to shake Thorn out of her reverie. The celebration was a remarkable and overwhelming event, but she had work to do. She had two missions, and she didn’t expect to find Harryn