The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [46]
“Propaganda,” hissed the warlord. “Your leaders were only interested in spreading the influence of the Church throughout Aundair. You gave the people something to fear, and then you saved them from a force that was never a threat.”
“I cannot claim to know the heart of the Keeper of the Flame,” Luala said. “I cannot know if his motives were pure. But I know that it was a time of horrors. The wolf’s curse has always been feared, and rightly so. It transforms its victims in mind as well as body. One of my childhood friends tore out the throats of his wife and children after succumbing to the touch of the Rat, before we knew what it truly was.
“Back then, in the midst of the eighth century, whatever power it held was magnified a hundredfold. Even in Thrane, we heard the tales. Wolves that walked like men, slaughtering entire villages. A single bite was enough to turn a man into a monster. If the soldiers of the Silver Flame hadn’t responded, the curse would have swept across Aundair and Breland, and then it would have been unstoppable.
“There were casualties, yes. It was a war, and the infected cared nothing for the lives of others. They did everything possible to mislead our soldiers, to trick them into spilling innocent blood. The tide only turned when the power of the curse itself faded—when it became more difficult for the infected to pass on their affliction. But by then, the people of Aundair were hungry for revenge. And that’s when they began to turn on each other, torturing and burning their own in the name of destroying every last shapeshifter.”
“I’ve read the records,” Drego said. “It’s a blot on the soul of the church. But it was the madness of war. You can’t judge the Silver Flame on the actions of zealots who embraced the faith in search of vengeance.”
“Don’t tell me what I can do,” Zaeurl said. “My people were driven from our homeland, burned out of the woods that had sheltered us for generations. My father was butchered before my eyes, and it was the Mockery’s luck that allowed me to escape.”
“So why didn’t you return?” Drego said. “The madness ended long before I was born. The zealots of the Pure Flame are still strong in Aundair, but you’d never see such things happen today.”
“I have neither forgiven nor forgotten what was done to me and mine.” Zaeurl’s eyes burned, and Drego took a step back; though she held no weapons, the woman felt dangerous. “My family was slaughtered by your kind. And you say it’s over? You’ve spent the last century killing one another. How many years do you think it will be before you start again?” She drew back her lips, and Thorn was certain she heard a growl. “This is a dangerous place I have chosen as my lair, but it is an honest one. My children are treated with the respect they deserve … and if they aren’t, blood is shed. If I ever return to your so-called civilized world, it will be to take vengeance of my own. Perhaps I’ll see you there, minister.”
Zaeurl kept her eyes fixed on Luala’s as she took a step back, and there was death in that gaze. Then she turned and strode into the crowd. Thorn found that she’d been holding her breath, and she slowly released it.
“Well,” Drego said, after a moment of silence. “I’m glad to see that we’re making such good friends so quickly. Are they actually going to serve this food? Personally, I’m famished.”
Drego’s comment turned out to be prescient. Moments later, Drul Kantar’s voice rang out across the hall, amplified by magic.
“Lords and ladies! Honored delegates of the eastern lands! Our feast will now begin, and the great lady Sora Katra will soon arrive to address you all. You have been assigned to tables—I ask that you find your seats at this time.”
Thorn inclined her head to Minister Luala and flashed a smile at Drego. “I must rejoin my lord. Minister, I thank you