The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [60]
It was the tradition he’d told her about on the first day of the journey … keeping trophies as a way of placating the spirits of the fallen. She reached down and picked up the tooth.
“You fought for me.” Blood dripped from his mouth as the gnoll removed his damaged armor.
“You defended me at the Korlaak Pass,” Thorn said. “You saved my life.”
“True,” the gnoll said. “Explain your purpose.”
Thorn studied the wounded gnoll carefully. She could feel Steel’s presence buzzing in the back of her mind, and she sheathed the dagger before it could speak.
“I’m searching for a statue,” she said. “And I want to know where Queen Sheshka resides.”
“Describe the statue.”
She’d kept the golden tome hidden in her left gauntlet throughout the journey. Now she drew it forth, flipping through until she found a picture of Harryn Stormblade.
Ghyrryn studied the image. Then he looked at her. For a moment both were silent, the bruised and bloody gnoll studying the Dark Lantern. Then he spoke. “The statue was on display. It was moved, at the request of a warlord. Where, I do not know. We will pass Sheshka’s quarters on the way to your own.”
Thorn gestured at the bodies around them. “This … what will you do?”
“I will speak to my brothers. The Children of Zaeurl do not sleep when the moons are high. This will not be known.”
“But why were they going to kill you?”
The gnoll made a gesture with his hand, palm flat and horizontal. “You have saved my life, and I yours. I care nothing for a statue. But I hold the honor of my brothers, and this I cannot speak of. There is a …” He paused, searching for a word. “Disease, the darkness that spreads. I do not like what I see. But it is not my place to challenge the rules of war.”
Thorn inclined her head. “I thank you for my life, noble Ghyrryn.”
“We have shared blood.” He glanced at her. “You need new clothing. Take what you will from this place.”
Thorn was surprised, but she wasn’t going to argue with this good fortune. The gnoll knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t reveal secrets, but he seemed willing to trust her. She searched the footlockers until she found a hunter’s uniform that would fit her, with a sack to hold it.
“A final gift,” he said. “We have shared blood, but you placed yourself in danger when you had taken no vow. We are brothers.” He held out his long axe.
“That’s all right,” she said. “I don’t really need it.”
“You will,” he said. He glanced at the dead wolf, but said no more. Thorn remembered the feel of Steel piercing flesh—a blow that had done no harm.
She took the axe and drew it into her right glove.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Great Crag
Droaam
Eyre 19, 998 YK
Goblins stared at Thorn as she and Ghyrryn made their way through the hallways of the Crag, but a snarl from the black-furred gnoll was enough to send the servants scurrying. Ghyrryn needed only a few minutes to find a squad of gnoll soldiers. Thorn couldn’t understand their whines and chittering howls, but four of the warriors loped away following Ghyrryn’s instruction; she imagined that they were going to deal with the mess they’d left behind.
The other two helped Ghyrryn and Thorn reach a dormitory held by the Znir Pact. At least twenty gnolls filled the long room; some were tending armor and weapons, some sparring, others playing a game that involved pitching teeth into an outline chalked on the floor. The arrival of the wounded Ghyrryn created a stir, and the pack crowded around him, hooting and crying in their strange tongue. The elderly healer pushed the others aside and forced Ghyrryn to sit on a bunk.
“You stay,” Ghyrryn told Thorn. For the moment, she welcomed the chance to sit down. The pain in the crystal shards had faded to the usual faint ache, but her side was a mass of bruises and her head throbbed where she’d struck the ground.
The healer came to examine her. His fur was patchy and graying,