The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [74]
An alarm, she thought. The mystic field wouldn’t harm the person who touched it; they wouldn’t even notice it. But it sent a magical warning to the person it was attuned to—likely Sheshka herself. If she were sleeping, it would certainly rouse her.
Let’s do something about that, she thought. Thorn ran her fingers along the hem of her cloak, pulling on a stud and producing a length of mithral wire. Next she found a tiny vial—nightwater, fluid charged with the energies of Mabar, which had a dampening effect on many forms of magic. She considered the whirling mists she’d seen a moment ago; there were tiny gaps in the ward, and she needed to pass the probe through one of those openings. In the corner of the room above her, a tiny gray spider spun a web as Thorn extended her wire through the invisible wall of magic. Many breaths later, it touched the floor. Thorn’s eyes were locked on the probe, but there was no spark or shimmer in the air around it; she’d been successful. Breaking the seal of the vial with her teeth, she let the nightwater flow down the wire, pooling on the floor. She saw a ripple … and then the air was still.
Thorn released her captive breath, returning the probe to her cloak. Only one more thing to do.
I hope you’re right about this, Steel.
She took the masking bag out of its pouch and pulled the hood down over her face. Pulling on the strings, she tightened it around her throat; it wouldn’t do to have it pulled free.
She felt as though she knew what was around her … but until a moment ago, she’d been able to see it, and it was still clear in her memory. She stepped down from the privy and removed Steel from his sheath.
I know you cannot see details, he whispered in her mind. If you need information, rub your thumb along my hilt in a circular pattern.
She tapped the hilt once and crept toward the doorway. The door was slightly ajar, and as Thorn leaned against the wall next to the opening, she found that she could feel what lay beyond. She could sense the width of the hallway, the height of the ceiling, and the presence of a familiar smell … Sheshka, a musky odor she now recognized from their earlier meeting.
She slid through the gap without touching the doorway. The short passage held two archways, both open. One led to a larger chamber; Thorn couldn’t clearly sense what lay beyond the doorway, but the feeling of space suggested that it was the main room of the suite. The room to her right was smaller, more likely a bedroom. But she shivered as she sensed a shape in the doorway, blocking the passage. This was no wolfhound. It was easily as large as a pony, and it could barely fit through the arch. Another distinctive smell struck her nostrils, and Thorn knew what she was facing even as Steel confirmed it.
Basilisk, he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Great Crag
Droaam
Eyre 19, 998 YK
Thorn was pressed against the wall, and the beast gave no sign of detecting her. She quietly slipped Steel back into his sheath. The dagger wouldn’t solve this problem, and she needed both hands for what she had in mind. Her hood protected her from the gaze of the basilisk, but it was a massive beast with armored hide and powerful jaws; it could sever her arm with a snap. And if Sheshka were asleep, the sound would surely wake her.
But noise was an enemy Thorn could defeat.
Thorn’s cloak was an arsenal lined with weapons and tools. She had half a dozen blades to choose from, and she settled on a thin stiletto, balanced for throwing. It wouldn’t end the fight, but it was a good opening. She slipped her hand into a hidden pocket and her fingers closed around a small globe of glass.