The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [65]
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps? There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it! Remember last night? That little exchange about taking me alive and killing the rest of you?”
“That was when he still had his weapon, and he doesn’t know my condition.” She turned to face him, and to Daine’s surprise, actually smiled. “Besides, you were born as a bodyguard, weren’t you? I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“Staying out of buildings with one exit would be a good start,” Daine growled.
“Hassalac Chaar.” The voice of the reptilian guard was harsh and loud, echoing across the passage. It took a moment for Daine to recognize the words hidden within the rasp.
The tunnel opened into a large cavern, and Daine stared in disbelief. Here at last was the luxury he’d expected to see at the entrance. Zil glamerweave carpets were spread across the floors, each displaying colorful shifting patterns of light and shadow. To Daine’s left, dark wine was flowing down the tiers of a silver fountain; soft cushions were spread across the floor, along with low couches whose craftsmanship spoke of elven artistry. To Daine’s right, there was a statue of a coiled golden dragon, easily twelve feet in height. If this one comes to life, I’m running, Daine thought.
But for all these fine touches, it was still a cave. Stalagmites protruded from the ground, polished to a mirror sheen or gilded in gold or silver, and he could still feel the hard stone beneath the floor.
A half-dozen of the blackscaled lizardfolk stood along the edges of the chamber, halberds held to attention. A young man stood in the center of the room, almost glowing with health and perfect beauty. His silk doublet and breeches were the color of rust, and his gloves and boots were well-oiled leather. At least a dozen garnets glittered in the torchlight, winking from necklace, belt, and cuff. Despite himself, Daine was impressed; this man couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old, and to command such respect and resources at such a young age was no small feat, even if he chose to live in a cave.
“Greetings, Lord Hassalac,” he said, inclining his head politely. “We thank you for seeing us.”
A chorus of rumbling growls ran through the lizard guards. The man smiled, revealing perfect teeth. “I am afraid you are mistaken. My name is Kess. I have the honor of managing Master Hassalac’s household.”
Daine shot a glance at Lakashtai, and the glitter in her eyes told him that she’d known the situation from the start. He cursed all absent-minded kalashtar.
“Of course,” he said, without really knowing why. “That was the message I wanted you to give to your master on our behalf.”
“You may tell him yourself, if you wish. I am simply here to provide you with warnings. Do not interrupt my master when he is speaking. Do not approach within five feet of his throne. Do not attempt to use magic, or—” he glanced at Lakashtai. “other abilities in his presence. Do not draw any weapons. In fact, you may want to leave those with me.”
“That’s all right,” Daine said.
“Very well, but let me be clear: these warnings are for your own good and are critical for your survival. Master Hassalac can kill you with a word, should he desire, but these precautions—they have already been woven into the stone itself, and if you violate any of my instructions, the consequences will be instant and severe.”
“Can we get on with it, then? No offense, but I’ll be just as happy when we’re through with this conversation.”
The guide glanced at Lakashtai, who nodded. He turned around, and as he did so, the patterns of the glamerweave carpets shifted—a river of fire burst into life, running down the center of the room. Kess walked onto this glowing bridge and led the way down the cavern. They passed other strange luxuries. A preserved gorgon stood on display, firelight glinting on its iron scales and bull-like horns. A trio of white granite statues was clustered together; each was about the size of a goblin, but their features had been worn down by time and weather, and it was