hood hiding his aberrant mark. At a glance, only his long, metal hands revealed his true nature, and he’d draw little attention on the back streets of Sharn. Brom was another story. The patchwork dwarf was dressed in battered chain mailthat had clearly seen many battles. Steel sheathed his ogre’s arm, culminating in a massive spiked gauntlet. Dreck scanned the hallway, his gaze dropping to take in Fileon’s corpse.
“Yes,” Thorn said. “There’re a few things we should talk about.”
C HAPTER T EN
Dragon Towers
Lharvion 20, 999 YK
D reck knelt next to Fileon, running a hand along the halfling’s warped arm. “Our blessing is a burden, and all too often frail flesh is too weak to bear Khyber’s touch.” He looked up at Thorn, his mismatched eyes gleaming. “Brom, deal with this.”
Thorn’s hand tightened on Steel’s hilt, but Dreck was talking about the cooling corpse. The dwarf produced a large leather sack. He lifted the dead halfling up with his giant hand and deposited him in the bag. There was magic in the sack, as with Thorn’s gloves and satchel. Even after the corpse was dropped in, the bag still seemed to be empty, and Brom folded it up and tucked it away.
“Do you want to know what happened?” Thorn said.
Dreck’s face was a steel mask, impossible to read. “I know what happened, beloved. He tried to kill you. Again.” He raised a hand before she could respond. “The Son of Khyber has long known of the misplaced loyalties of the Shaper of the Young. He was content for our kind to be criminals in the shadows,waiting for the time when the Twelve would finally move against us. Lady Tavin herself understands the wisdom of Khyber’s Son and has gone to take his words where they are needed. But it seems our shaper could not change his ways.”
“So I was a test?”
“Your eyes see clearly, beloved. There is no place in this family for traitors. Not at this late hour. The shaper would not betray in plain sight, so we needed to see what he would do in the shadows. And I wanted to see how you dealt with him. And so I have. Now let us move swiftly. We have work to do, and the bells of the tower have not stopped.”
Thorn had nothing to say, and Dreck’s cold words were unnerving. But he was not actually accusing her, and she was comforted by the fact that Brom, at least, looked glum. Dreck was more ruthless than she’d thought, but it seemed that some of the Tarkanans still had feelings.
“Take the lead and be wary of wards,” Dreck told her. “I’m certain the chamber where our prize awaits will be guarded with both magic and steel. Brom and I will deal with the living, but it falls to you to silence the alarms.”
Thorn nodded. She reached for Steel, but at the last moment she hesitated, remembering their last debate. He might mean well, but she was getting tired of the dagger telling her what to do. Sorghan d’Deneith’s icy blade was bound within her left gauntlet, and a thought brought it to her hand. She thought, Let’s try a silent weapon for a time.
If there were any servants beyond the two Fileon had killed, they didn’t cross the path of the intruders.The halls were still and empty, save for sealed crates and furniture still wrapped from moving. Thorn had expected the treasure of the house to be held in a vault, but Dreck’s directions took them to the residential floor.
Brom fascinated Thorn. The weight of his oversized arm was clearly a burden he’d had to adapt to, and he used the arm as if it were a third leg. There were studs on the palm of his spiked gauntlet, which Thorn now realized helped him with traction, like nails in a boot. Beyond this, over time she’d noticed that the dwarf had a host of unusual scars—scars in a variety of colors, some even traced in patterns of scales and what seemed to be chitin. She finally caught a glimpse of his aberrant mark, rising along the back of his neck below his wild mane of hair. Black and bilious green, it looked
“Yes,” Thorn said. “There’re a few things we should talk about.”
C HAPTER T EN
Dragon Towers
Lharvion 20, 999 YK
D reck knelt next to Fileon, running a hand along the halfling’s warped arm. “Our blessing is a burden, and all too often frail flesh is too weak to bear Khyber’s touch.” He looked up at Thorn, his mismatched eyes gleaming. “Brom, deal with this.”
Thorn’s hand tightened on Steel’s hilt, but Dreck was talking about the cooling corpse. The dwarf produced a large leather sack. He lifted the dead halfling up with his giant hand and deposited him in the bag. There was magic in the sack, as with Thorn’s gloves and satchel. Even after the corpse was dropped in, the bag still seemed to be empty, and Brom folded it up and tucked it away.
“Do you want to know what happened?” Thorn said.
Dreck’s face was a steel mask, impossible to read. “I know what happened, beloved. He tried to kill you. Again.” He raised a hand before she could respond. “The Son of Khyber has long known of the misplaced loyalties of the Shaper of the Young. He was content for our kind to be criminals in the shadows,waiting for the time when the Twelve would finally move against us. Lady Tavin herself understands the wisdom of Khyber’s Son and has gone to take his words where they are needed. But it seems our shaper could not change his ways.”
“So I was a test?”
“Your eyes see clearly, beloved. There is no place in this family for traitors. Not at this late hour. The shaper would not betray in plain sight, so we needed to see what he would do in the shadows. And I wanted to see how you dealt with him. And so I have. Now let us move swiftly. We have work to do, and the bells of the tower have not stopped.”
Thorn had nothing to say, and Dreck’s cold words were unnerving. But he was not actually accusing her, and she was comforted by the fact that Brom, at least, looked glum. Dreck was more ruthless than she’d thought, but it seemed that some of the Tarkanans still had feelings.
“Take the lead and be wary of wards,” Dreck told her. “I’m certain the chamber where our prize awaits will be guarded with both magic and steel. Brom and I will deal with the living, but it falls to you to silence the alarms.”
Thorn nodded. She reached for Steel, but at the last moment she hesitated, remembering their last debate. He might mean well, but she was getting tired of the dagger telling her what to do. Sorghan d’Deneith’s icy blade was bound within her left gauntlet, and a thought brought it to her hand. She thought, Let’s try a silent weapon for a time.
If there were any servants beyond the two Fileon had killed, they didn’t cross the path of the intruders.The halls were still and empty, save for sealed crates and furniture still wrapped from moving. Thorn had expected the treasure of the house to be held in a vault, but Dreck’s directions took them to the residential floor.
Brom fascinated Thorn. The weight of his oversized arm was clearly a burden he’d had to adapt to, and he used the arm as if it were a third leg. There were studs on the palm of his spiked gauntlet, which Thorn now realized helped him with traction, like nails in a boot. Beyond this, over time she’d noticed that the dwarf had a host of unusual scars—scars in a variety of colors, some even traced in patterns of scales and what seemed to be chitin. She finally caught a glimpse of his aberrant mark, rising along the back of his neck below his wild mane of hair. Black and bilious green, it looked
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