The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [69]
“This is futile,” she said. “Beggars. Monsters. You cannot trust us unless we are crippled and chained. We reach out to you and you spit on us. I had hoped to discuss the common ground between us, but now I see there is no such thing. I will waste no more time on you. Guard!”
“Wait,” Thorn said. She heard an ogre moving behind her. “Toli—”
“Take his hands.” Sheshka walked around the table. As she moved closer, Thorn could see that the queen was wearing a headband beneath her serpent mane; copper and silver disks glittered in the torchlight as she approached. “If he strikes at me again, I will snap off his arm and feed it to Szaj.”
Beren said nothing; he merely glowered at the medusa. Thorn took hold of Toli’s wrists. Then Sheshka bent alongside the petrified man. Her lips brushed the surface of his neck for a moment, then she stepped back. Her serpents hissed and the basilisk trotted to stand at her side.
Nothing happened, and Thorn wondered if this was all a game; she felt a fool clutching the arms of a statue. Then the stone grew warm beneath her touch, softened, and color flowed across the dark stone like the sunrise against a deep night. The instant his consciousness returned, Toli threw his strength against Thorn, struggling to break free of her grip. His lips drew back in a snarl, and it was all she could do to contain him.
“Toli!” she cried. His eyes were wild, and he gave no sign that he had heard her. She couldn’t risk releasing his sword hand, but she let go of his other hand and slapped him across the cheek. “Toli!”
“Stop.” Beren’s voice was firm and steady, and it brought Toli back to himself. His breath came in deep, ragged gasps, and his eyes darted wildly about the room. “We are leaving. Sheathe your weapon.”
Toli shook with rage when he caught sight of Sheshka, and his head darted to the side. Her eyes were closed, but the bodyguard wasn’t taking any chance. He managed to slow his breathing, and Thorn released his sword. He turned to Beren, who nodded, and Toli slowly sheathed his sword.
“Take us away from here,” Beren told the ogre. “Our business is done.”
Thorn took one glance back at Sheshka, preparing to turn away at even the hint of an open eye. The medusa watched them, eyes closed, idly stroking the head of her basilisk. She was a cold one, and Thorn couldn’t tell if Sheshka was disappointed in this outcome, or if it was what she had anticipated all along.
Well, at least one thing came of this, she thought as they returned to the hall. I know she can restore her victims. Now I just need to find the right one …
Beren’s mood grew darker as the day wore on. In the final meeting of the day, Drul Kantar opened the floor to demands, hearing what the envoys of the east expected in exchange for alliance. Many of the delegates had conditions or concerns. Minister Luala wanted assurances of full religious freedoms for the people of Droaam, including a pledge to erect a shrine to the Silver Flame in the Great Crag itself. Lord Tharsul of Karrnath wanted to know which ruler the Daughters believed held the greatest right to the throne of Galifar. Kantar laughed off both of these, telling Luala that religious freedom was why there wasn’t a Temple of the Flame in Droaam, and that the Daughters weren’t asking for an alliance with Galifar; they sought a place among the Thronehold nations.
Beren ir’ Wynarn said nothing. Thorn was certain that he’d been sent with a list of demands; Breland was Droaam’s closest neighbor, and Beren’s story of Sora Maenya was just a taste of the Brelish blood that had been spilled over the years. Yet he maintained a grim silence.
After the session, he opened up slightly. “I apologize for my behavior, Nyri. I … I’m not feeling well. I barely slept last night, and I don’t think the food here suits me.”
“Should we find a healer?” The thought of Fharg examining Beren brought a faint smile to her lips in spite of her concern.