The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [54]
What are your conclusions so far, Lantern Thorn?
“Let’s see. I’ve just seen a childhood nightmare threaten to trap the soul of anyone who tries to steal from her. And I’ve been told that she knows who I am and possibly why I’m here. So I don’t exactly have a conclusion. I’ve just been wondering whether Sora Maenya will keep my skull on the mantel or use it as a paperweight.”
Thorn …
“Don’t worry,” she said, flipping the dagger in the air and catching it. “I’ve been through worse.” She smiled as she spoke. As dangerous as the situation was, she enjoyed the challenge. Considering the problems drove the lingering pain from her mind; the world seemed sharper and clearer.
“So,” she said, “let’s look at what we know. Sora Katra’s position is that Droaam is stronger than ever. She says that Droaam isn’t a threat to the east unless we turn down their offer, in which case they’ll tear the heads off our children and turn us to stone.”
More or less.
“However, we’ve seen signs that Droaam isn’t quite as unified as Katra would have us believe. She didn’t explain the harpy attack, but from what we overheard, it was the work of a harpy chieftain in league with another warlord.”
Indeed.
“Four warlords are here at the Crag. The giant Gorodan Ashlord. Zaeurl, the cheerful one-eared elf. The medusa Sheshka. And an unfriendly oni named Tzaryen Rrac. Of these, Zaeurl appears to be in favor, but the other three were mentioned as possible traitors. If one of these warlords is allied with the harpies, he may still plan to murder the delegates. And Sheshka has asked for a private audience with our Lord Beren … which would be a convenient time to add a new statue to her collection.”
Steel wasn’t worried. Your escorts brought a harpy prisoner with them. I’d assume the Daughters of Sora Kell now know which of their warlords betrayed them. Besides, protecting the delegates is a job for bodyguards. You have another mission.
“Yes … the one that’s likely to end up with my skull on a shelf,” Thorn said. “And then there’s this.” She tapped the envelope with her code name on it.
Presumably it’s a threat, Steel said. They expected the delegates to come in the company of spies. They just want to make sure you don’t engage in any activities beyond basic espionage.
“Good thing I’m not planning anything else,” Thorn said. “Let’s see what it says.”
The envelope was sealed with a single blob of dark red wax. Thorn pried it off with a fingernail and pulled out a stiff piece of parchment.
“Well, this is an interesting way to send a warning,” she said. “Whatever it is, I can’t read it.”
Let me see it, Steel said.
Thorn laid the note on the bed and passed the knife over it. The sheet was covered with interwoven patterns of lines that seemed more like artwork than language.
It’s Draconic, Steel said. One of the oldest languages in existence. I don’t know why they’d expect you to be able to read it. And it’s not a warning—not an obvious one, at least. It says, “Nothing lost remains lost forever, not even a bone in an ossuary.”
“Ossuary?”
A receptacle for bones. Often an urn, though the context suggests something larger. A pit, perhaps.
“Of course, that explains everything. They’re trying to confuse us to death.” She stood up, pinned back her hair, and picked up Steel, flipping the dagger to set the blade against her wrist. “I think the tales of Sora Teraza’s madness may be more accurate than those of her foresight. Shall we put it to the test?”
Are you planning to change your clothing?
Thorn was still wearing the gown she’d selected for the feast—the most exotic piece of clothing in her shiftweave wardrobe. It was a lovely, deep blue with azure and silver trim, complete with jewelry and a short train—a ridiculous thing to wear sneaking around an enemy fortress.
“You may have a century of experience with scrying, but I’m not letting a dagger make decisions about my wardrobe.”
But—
“The feast is still going on, Steel. From what we’ve seen, it should be continuing for