The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [82]
Thorn stood up and stepped back into the sand pit, closing her eyes as she did so. She’d taken the sword that was lying next to Sheshka, and she set it point first in the sand.
“Welcome back to the living, your highness,” she said. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t help you stand. The last time I saved your life, your hair bit me.”
Sheshka rose up on one arm, her breathing still ragged, and from the sound, Thorn could tell that the medusa was looking at her. Sheshka’s voice was rough, still unsteady. “Why … did you … save me?”
“I told you before. I came to negotiate.”
“You wear the colors of Zaeurl’s children.” She was gaining strength, slowly. “Why?”
Zaeurl’s children? The wolves. “These aren’t my clothes, Queen Sheshka.”
The medusa rose to her feet. “Open your eyes,” she said.
“And you’ll release Harryn Stormblade?” Thorn said.
“Open your eyes.”
As dangerous as it seemed, Thorn had seen Sheshka in a number of different circumstances. They’d bargained. She’d heard the medusa’s righteous anger when she fought with Beren. Now her voice was soft, almost gentle. Praying that this wasn’t some cruel trick, Thorn opened her eyes.
The medusa queen stood before her, looking at the floor. The healing tattoo had done a remarkable job. Sheshka seemed slightly unsteady on her feet, but her burned scales were completely restored. Five serpents studied Thorn as they bobbed and weaved around Sheshka’s head. Thorn could see a faint golden glimmer at the edge of Sheshka’s eyes, but her gaze was fixed on the floor.
“What is your name?”
“You can call me Thorn.”
“And what do you want with Harryn Stormblade, Thorn?” This time, she wasn’t demanding. Her voice was steady and quiet.
“I told you. I wish to return him to the eastern lands, to his home.”
“Then I release you from our bargain.” Sheshka raised her head, but she closed her eyes as she did so. “You have saved my life, Thorn. If you can keep me alive, I will give you Harryn Stormblade.”
“Keep you alive … you say that as if you expect it to be a challenge.”
“I do.” Sheshka knelt by a large stone chest. Reaching inside, she produced the armor she had worn earlier and began dressing herself, drawing the chain mail shirt over her torso and binding the vambraces and shin guards to her forearms and legs. “I caught only a glimpse of the woman who produced the flames. What became of her?”
“She escaped,” Thorn said. She’d had a close look at the sorceress, and what she’d seen was fixed in her mind … the blue dragonhawk of Aundair pinned to her cloak. She was one of the Aundairian envoys.
“The Crag is large, and they likely think me dead.” Sheshka paused, using her teeth to tie the cords on her bracers. “But guards will surely be here soon to make the shocking discovery. If I’m still alive, I suspect that they’ll be prepared to finish the job. And my death would be a tragedy for both of us, it seems.”
“Why would the guards of the Crag want to kill you?” Thorn said.
Sheshka buckled a sword belt around her waist. She held out her hand without looking behind her, though two of her vipers fixed their eyes on Thorn. “What do you think just happened here?”
“Four people tried to kill you—and would have succeeded if not for me.” Thorn tossed the curved sword toward Sheshka. The medusa snatched it out of the air and sheathed it.
“And I’d like to know exactly how you survived,” Sheshka said. She placed a diadem around her head, the band hidden beneath her serpents. An array of metal disks dangled from the silver band. “But now is not the time for that discussion. Who were these assassins?”
“A Brelish soldier, a Valenar elf, a Darguul hobgoblin.”
“And how would you interpret such a group?” Sheshka said, straightening the diadem.
She’d already thought this through. “The Gantii Vuus fought alongside Brelish troops in the Last War, and the Valenar will fight for anyone. I’d conclude that someone in Breland wanted you dead.”
“Yes. Neither the hobgoblin