The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [89]
This doesn’t make sense, Thorn thought. With all the moons in the sky, no darkness was terribly deep; buildings were casting shadows in all directions. But they’d crossed into a patch of darkness that was simply too wide and too deep for the structures around it; this was a pool of gloom.
Sheshka noticed it as well, and paused to study the ground. Then they heard the snarl behind them.
“Good fortune for me,” the voice said, the growl of a beast twisted into words. The wolf was the size of a pony. The night was warm, but its breath steamed as it spoke, and its pure white fur was rimed with frost. “I sense you are no member of the Pack, little half-elf. I will freeze your blood before—”
It turned to white marble. Except for its eyes, it was hard to tell the difference.
“You could have let it finish its threat,” Thorn said, trying to cover her surprise with a smile. She would need some time to get used to that.
“I suspect it was going to crack your bones and suck out the marrow,” Sheshka said, stepping into an alley. “I’ve heard it before.”
They were almost at the edge of the city, and the sounds of revelry had fallen behind them. A few goblins were clustered around campfires, eating rats and beetles roasted on sticks, but wolf and ogre seemed to have been set apart.
“Your people seem to like their solitude,” Thorn murmured.
“There is a reason they chose this place,” Sheshka said. “But you are correct. It is not in our nature to share our lives with other creatures. As with the Children of Zaeurl, so it is with us—our power is also our curse. It is difficult to live among creatures so fragile that one angry glare can bring death.”
“But you can restore those you turn to stone,” Thorn said. A tower surrounded by scaffolding stood up ahead; Thorn guessed it was their destination.
“It’s not as simple as it seems.” Sheshka’s hand brushed against the silver collar that hung around her neck. “I am Sheshka, the Queen of Stone. To you, that may seem an arrogant title, an affectation of a woman who governs a city smaller than your Wroat or Passage. But it is not just a title of nobility. It is a statement of fact. I am the Queen of Stone. I hear the whisper of marble and granite. I have the power to release those who meet my gaze, if I so choose. For others of my kind, this takes skill with the arts of magic. Few possess such talents. Most of the time, the prison of stone is final.”
Fascinating, Steel whispered. The dagger had kept silent, not wanting to distract Thorn, but for now the danger seemed to have passed. Zane will want to know about that.
“We have arrived,” Sheshka said. “Be welcome in our keep.”
The tower was a slender structure of white stone. It reminded Thorn of the trunk of a tall tree. A spiral ramp led up around the tower, and the pattern of a serpent’s path was engraved into the stone.
“Perhaps I should go first,” Thorn said. “Just to make sure there’s no danger.”
“And will you meet the angry gaze of my countrymen? No, this is my home, Thorn. I shall lead the way.”
Sheshka strode up the ramp, holding her bow in one hand as if it were a scepter instead of a weapon. Thorn followed, keeping Steel close against her wrist. She closed her eyes; she wanted to stay as close to Sheshka as possible, and she didn’t want to end up like the white wolf. Something troubled her … a smell in the air. But she couldn’t place it; she still had much to learn about her keen senses.
A door waited at the top of the ramp, and it stood ajar. Sheshka walked beneath the marble arch. Her serpents hissed in a strange pattern, and Thorn wondered if it was some sort of language. With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see through the entrance, but she had the sense that a number of small stone objects were scattered about the floor, perhaps the remnants of a sculptor’s unfinished project.
“Greetings, my cousins!” Sheshka said. “This is a dire time indeed, and I call on you for aid and sanctuary. We must—”
Something lay on the floor in front of Sheshka. It was a granite statue of a rat … a rat the size of a small dog.