The Balborite Curse (Book 4) by Kristian Alva Page B

discuss the subject no further.
    “Thank you,” said Tallin, handing the stone back to Haluk. The shaman put the little marble up to his lips and kissed it before returning it to the pouch, then nodded politely before retreating into his tent. Moments later, his quiet chanting resumed.
    Duskeye wanted to be left alone, so Tallin walked off by himself to a secluded place on the dunes. Duskeye eventually joined him, and they sat in silence for a long time, watching the moon rise in the sky. From the village behind them, someone called out that it was time for dinner.
    Finally, Tallin said, “I’m sure I could find that sulfur mudhole, if it’s as foul-smelling as Haluk described.”
    "What purpose would that serve?" said Duskeye. " I doubt that Shesha is alive. And even if she is, she doesn ’t wish to be found."
    Tallin fell silent, watching the yellow moon. When he spoke again, his voice was pleading. “We must try, Duskeye,” he said quietly. “We must try and find her.”
    Duskeye sighed. " I knew you would say that."
     

Druknor Theoric
    The ground in Sut-Burr was blanketed in snow. A sticky, thick powder had fallen the night before, followed by a sleeting rain that made the surface as slick as grease. The hills were gleaming white and the trees glittered with icicles.
    An ornate slaver ’s coach crawled slowly along the road, its wheels slithering back and forth. The rain had turned the road into a quagmire of mud and ice. It was dark when the coach finally reached the outer walls of Druknor’s fortress.
    In the gathering twilight, the air grew colder. There was a dead stillness in the air here. No birds or animals could be heard. Only the sound of the wind accompanied the party as they approached the keep. There were no trees for leagues, either—they had been cleared long ago, leaving only a vast plain of snow and ice, so there was no cover for anyone on foot, and no obvious place to hide. The lay of the land was such that the only way to approach the fortress was via a single, twisted road.
    Four men accompanied the coach on foot, one man following behind each tire. Heavy fur parkas kept the men warm, despite the freezing temperatures. Their clothing was caked with blood and filth, evidence of an animal hunt along the way. The carcass of a half-eaten seal was tied to the back of the coach with ropes. Every few hours, the men sliced a chunk of frozen meat to chew as they walked.
    The coach rarely stopped, even during the night, and they had been traveling for several days. The exhausted men plodded on, knowing they would not rest until they reached the safety of their master’s keep. The men all knew that their passenger had no need of additional security.
    Scattered moonlight reflected off the walls of the fortress, built entirely of white stone. From a distance, the keep looked almost invisible, its walls melting into the snowy landscape. There was only a white gleam; the snow surrounded the fortress like layers of cotton upon the plain.
    At first glance, there didn’t appear to be any guards on duty. But the doors creaked open, and the coach moved forward into the ivory fortress.
    Despite the cold, people milled around outside, engaged in various activities. Inside the doors, three men were butchering a large animal. The men paused for a moment to watch the coach come through the doors, but they quickly resumed their work. Even in terrible weather, the workers were accustomed to watching people come and go, and it was best not appear too curious.
    The gates shut behind the coach, and the four men in dirty parkas melted away silently, going directly to their quarters. Their charge had arrived safely, and their task was over.
    The coach was dirty, covered with mud from the roads, and the horses were spent. Attendants materialized immediately, jumping forward to clean and prepare the coach for its next use.
    A footman, smartly dressed and enormously fat, waddled up to the door with an umbrella. He placed a