The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [83]
When he left the house, Daine had scored the Deneith emblem off the pommel of his sword. It had since been repaired, and he’d chosen to leave it intact—out of respect to his grandfather if not to the house itself, but he no longer considered himself to be a member of House Deneith, and it had never occurred to him that it might have meaning to Lei. She was right; regardless of his feelings, the blood of the house ran through his veins. Daine might not have the dragonmark of the house, but the potential was still there in his blood. Daine had never concerned himself with history, but every child of the houses knew the stories: mixing the blood of two dragonmarked houses could result in aberrant marks, children with strange powers who could grow up twisted by madness or disease. Daine had been a cynical child and had never put much stock in the stories, but a year ago, they’d encountered three people with aberrant dragonmarks, and it had been a troubling experience. Daine thought about the man covered with sores and boils, the little halfling giggling and talking to her rats. If Lei and he were joined—was that the gift they would give a child?
Did he even want a child?
“You have troubles enough to deal with. Do not invite more.”
Lakashtai’s soft voice startled him out of his reverie. Gerrion was sleeping, but apparently the kalashtar knew something about sailing. She stood behind the wheel, her cloak billowing in the wind. The burns along her pale skin had vanished; Daine wondered if she had come to terms with Lei at some point, or if healing was just another of her powers that he didn’t know about. Lei herself was nowhere to be seen and was most likely asleep in the cabin. Pierce was standing at the bow, but glanced back when he heard the conversation.
“I don’t need you prying in my mind while I’m awake,” Daine said with a glare.
“Neither of us has any choice in the matter,” she replied. “It is the price of your protection. I have touched your dreams, and it is difficult for me to ignore your most powerful emotions. You might try being grateful for a change. I do not enjoy the feeling of your thoughts and emotions intruding on my own, but my only alternative is to kill you.”
“If there is a battle, it will not be Daine who falls.” Pierce was cleaning the chain of his flail. His voice was as calm as Lakashtai; it was hard to believe that they were discussing murder.
“In my current condition, you are more than a match for me, Pierce. The pain from the shattered crystal still burns within me, weakening my bond to Kashtai, but I speak without malice. Without my help, your friend will die, and all your strength and skill cannot save him. His death would be a thing of agony and madness, serving the cause of a greater darkness. It would be a mercy if I killed him.”
“You’re just full of compassion, aren’t you?” Daine said.
Lakashtai glanced at him. Her eyes weren’t glowing, but even at this distance the vivid green was remarkable. “If I did not care about your fate, I would not be here now, and the only part of you that matters would have died a year ago.”
Though her voice was calm and level, Daine thought that he could hear traces of pain behind it, and he felt a touch of shame. Lakashtai’s imperious manner made it easy to forget that she might have feelings beneath her serene mask, and even her beauty was as disturbing as it was alluring, but she was right—and she deserved better from him.
“I didn’t mean to stab at you. It’s just that I’m used to fighting my own battles, and somehow, this talk of killing me just doesn’t fill me with goodwill.”
“I understand, but it is not the way of my people