The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [67]
“HE HAS THREATENED MY LOYAL SERVANT, AND HIS LIFE IS MINE! IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG SINCE THE SCENT OF BLOOD HAS FILLED THE AIR!”
Daine’s struggles were useless. He couldn’t move a muscle, and every second the pressure increased. Hassalac’s voice faded to a dull, incoherent roar. Thunder. His vision blurred, and the world began to fade.
Then it was over. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath. His body was worn and sore, and the world’s angriest blacksmith was using his head as an anvil. Lakashtai was speaking to Hassalac, but Daine couldn’t make out the words through his fog of pain. Whatever she’d said, it had kept him alive … though at the moment death seemed preferable to the terrible pounding in his head. He saw that Lakashtai had produced the dragon scale, which floated through the air to the kobold’s throne.
“… the company of that half-breed rat.”
Slowly words began to take shape. Mercifully, Hassalac had lowered his voice. He still spoke in resonant bass tones instead of the squeaking yap of the kobold, but as Daine watched he realized that Hassalac’s mouth wasn’t actually moving when he spoke. The sorcerer wore robes of crimson velvet, and a braided ring of gold was wrapped around his throat. Rosy dragonshards were embedded in the terminals of this torc, and they pulsed with a faint light in time with Hassalac’s words. Apparently the sorcerer didn’t care for the sound of his own voice.
“We only met Gerrion last night, Master Hassalac,” Lakashtai said, “but he helped us find you, and his advice played a vital role in the selection of this gift.”
“HE IS A THIEF AND A GRAY WORM!” Hassalac roared, and Daine winced at the sound. “Surely this is another of his tricks!”
“Calm yourself, Master Hassalac.” Lakashtai’s words were like cool water, and even Daine’s headache seemed to subside at the sound of her voice. “Gerrion told us he was a thief. In fact, he said that he had stolen goods on your behalf on more than one occasion.”
“Perhaps …”
“Besides, if Gerrion was plotting against you, why would he have revealed his presence? We bring no hidden purposes to your door.”
The kobold scratched his chin with a polished claw, running his other hand across the dragonscale that lay across his lap. Rings glittered on his fingers. “Very well. I accept your tale, for now, so what is it you seek?”
“Your name is known even in Khorvaire and Adar, Master Hassalac. Your collection of treasures is a thing of legend.”
“This I know. Make your point, for my patience wears thin.”
“All we ask is the opportunity to study your treasures, Master Hassalac, to examine your collection, that we may know once and for all what wonders you possess.”
Hassalac’s mouth finally opened, producing a series of barking yaps that Daine recognized as kobold laughter. Lakashtai remained unruffled, and eventually the sorcerer’s mirth subsided.
“You have manners, warm one,” he said at last, “to bring a gift with your request. The one who came before did not, and he is lucky that I let him leave; I considered turning him into crystal and adding him to my treasures.”
“We have no desire to take anything from you—”
“Except knowledge,” Hassalac snapped, “and you know well that knowledge is the greatest treasure of all. My secrets are worth far more than mere silver or gold. In return for this fine gift, I shall allow you to inspect those relics placed on display in this chamber and to leave with your lives when you are done, but no one enters my vaults.”
Hassalac’s voice might have been magically generated, but it conveyed emotion well, and the threat hung in the air. Daine’s hand was on his sword, but Lakashtai caught his eye and shook her head.
“We shall avail ourselves of your kind offer, Lord Hassalac. We shall not take long; I am certain that you yearn for your privacy.”
“Than you are wiser than I thought.” The kobold dismissed them with a gesture. “Go. And you—” he fixed Daine with his gaze, and for a moment Daine felt an icy hand around his heart. “Spill another drop of blood in