The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [64]
Daine considered this. “I thought we were talking about dragons.”
“The giants did not fall to the horrors of Dal Quor, but it was the beginning of the end. The elves had long been slaves of the giants, and in the wake of the quori incursion, many of the slaves rose in revolt.”
“The dragons?”
Lakashtai spared a glance. “You have no patience. All things come in time, and all things fall in time. The elves slowly turned the tide against their former masters, and it became clear that the civilization of the giants would not survive. In their pride, the greatest wizards among the giants decided to unleash the same powers that had been used on Dal Quor against Eberron itself. The consequences of such actions—it is impossible to say. The world could have been torn apart, and it would have been, if not for the dragons of Argonnessen.”
“Finally. So dragons beat giants?”
“To say the least. The details are largely unknown, even to the elders of the kalashtar. The ancestors of the elves of Aerenal had fled before the disaster came. The dragons swept across the land, and all that can be said for certain is that when they left, the civilization of the giants was ash and ruin. In the present day, the giants are largely savages—or at the least, no more sophisticated than your people.”
“Thanks,” Daine said.
“Many look to that power—the strength that leveled one of the greatest civilizations in the history of Eberron—and seek to claim it for their own. Many believe that these secrets are hidden here in Xen’drik.”
“Including … “Daine paused in midspeech, distracted by another group coming down the tunnel toward them. The strangers had a reptilian guard of their own, and Daine only caught a glimpse of the silver hem of a cloak, fluttering as its wearer moved.
It was enough. Daine grabbed Lakashtai’s shoulder, pulling her back. His sword was in his hand.
“What an unexpected surprise.” The soft voice was all too familiar. The lizardfolk had shifted to the sides of the tunnel so the two groups could pass one another. There, ten feet away, stood the Riedran man who only last night had threatened Daine with a crystal sword.
“Put the sword away, Daine.” Lakashtai’s voice was firm. “This is no place for a battle, and he knows it.”
Indeed, the Riedran had not drawn his weapon. His hood and veil were drawn down, revealing finely chiseled, slightly effeminate features. His dark hair was drawn back into a single braid, and in the flickering light there seemed to be deep blue highlights mixed among the black strands.
“Of course. Master Hassalac disapproves of those who spill blood in his manor.” He smiled at Daine, who had the uneasy feeling that the Riedran—and Hassalac—knew about his ill-advised battle with the guard. Daine slowly returned his blade to its leather sheath, keeping his eyes on the stranger.
“What brings you here?” Lakashtai’s voice was as close to cordial as Daine had ever heard it. They might have been at a dinner party.
“Oh, the same thing as you, I imagine,” the man said. “I have heard so much of Master Hassalac’s collection—I had hoped for the chance to see it with my own eyes.” He studied Lakashtai, his gaze lingering over the sack that held the dragonscale shield. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck.”
“Perhaps we will. Providing we do not keep our host waiting.”
The Riedran nodded slightly. “Please, do not let me detain you. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”
He tapped his guard on the shoulder, and they squeezed past Daine and Lakashtai. Daine’s hand was resting on the hilt of his dagger, and he yearned to draw and strike as his enemy squeezed past him; in the confined space, it would be impossible to miss. One mistake was enough. He kept his back to the wall and watched the Riedran walk down the passage; the man never looked back.
One he was out of sight, Lakashtai nodded to their escort, and they began walking again.
“I don’t like it,” Daine