The Queen of stone tob-1

by Keith Baker

  Her shadow shifted again, and the magical lights faded further.

  "So remember that first story. Remember what you feared in the night. Remember… and be welcome."

  As she finished speaking, she stepped back and fully into the light. A gasp passed through the assembled envoys, and Thorn couldn't help herself; she stiffened, her grip tightening on Steel's hilt. The figure standing before her had stepped out of her nightmares.

  Sora Katra was just as Thorn had imagined from hearing the tale of the Forgotten Princess. She was an old woman, and her skin was as pale as her hair, milky white with a touch of green that hinted at rot. Her skin was wrinkled and her flesh withered, but her back was straight, and her movements were smooth and graceful. She wore a cloak of long black feathers over a rough gray robe, bound by a belt made of finger bones… trophies from those who'd made foolish deals with her. Her own fingers were unnaturally long, each one tipped with a raven's talon. Despite the distance, Thorn could see her eyes-greenish-white and glowing in the dim light. "Eyes that saw your death as soon as they passed over you," her father had told her. "Saw it… or set it in stone."

  It's not real, Steel whispered. She said it herself… illusion, and a powerful one. Everyone here is seeing something different.

  Steel's words were comforting, but the unease remained. Though she knew it was a trick, Thorn still remembered lying awake in the middle of the night, clenching her fists every time she heard a bird land on the roof. A young girl terrified that those pale eyes would appear at the window, coming to claim a bone.

  "Yes, we know each other, you and I." Sora Katra glanced around the silent room, and it took all of Thorn's resolve to meet her pale gaze. "But do you know this place? Do you know where you are, and why?"

  Sora Katra raised her right hand and a medusa appeared in the shadows at her side. Venom dripped from the serpents coiled around her head, and her eyes were wide open; though most knew it must be an illusion, there was a commotion as many of the envoys looked away or shielded their eyes. And Katra wasn't done. She raised her left hand and a troll stepped out of the darkness-a muscular beast, slime and boils glistening on its rubbery green skin. It held a human child in one clenched fist, and it raised the girl to its mouth and closed its jaws around her neck. With that, both images froze, leaving Sora Katra flanked by terrors.

  "For a thousand years, you claimed this land as part of your kingdom of Galifar," she said. "But it was never yours, and you knew it. You have numbers, discipline, ingenuity; you have crafted fantastic tools and powerful magic over the centuries. But you have always feared those beings that have powers you can never master. The petrifying gaze of the medusa. The troll's gift to spurn the touch of steel. You fought these creatures in the past, slaughtered them when you could, pushed them away when that was all you could do. You carved out your peaceful sanctuary in the heart of the land, but you never drove the horrors from this land. Occasionally, your warriors would cross the Graywall, seeking to make a name, a new legend, to return as heroes of a new story. But you know as well as I how many returned."

  Katra lowered her hands and the images vanished. But something lingered in the shadows where they had been… a ripple in the darkness.

  "Just over a century ago, you tore your great kingdom apart. You have spent decades killing one another, and the heart of Galifar is lost forever. And as you squandered the work of a thousand years, we created something new."

  She raised her hand and was flanked by massive figures… the bestial ogre guards, and trolls that looked even more fearsome than the one seen a moment earlier-trolls wearing armor and carrying vicious axes.

  "My sisters and I each have our strengths. I am the voice. Sora Teraza, the vision. And Sora Maenya is our bloody blade. Alone, we are terrifying. Together, we are far more… and that is the lesson we brought to this place. Harpy, medusa, minotaur-any one of them a creature dreaded by your kind. But together, they could be a power this world has never seen. Every fear your people have-standing side by side, using their remarkable gifts in ways never conceived by those living in savagery."

  She raised her arms and the walls around her faded away. Harpies and gargoyles filled the air above her. Snarling dire wolves and minotaurs now stood among the ogres and trolls, and Katra was flanked by medusa archers.

  "This is where you are. This is Droaam. An alliance of those you fear, of the monsters of your tales. Three years ago we came to you and asked that you recognize our sovereignty. You dismissed us. You had greater concerns, and no interest in the savages to the east. Surely we'd turn on one another within a year… or one of you would take it upon yourselves to eliminate this blight once and for all. Yet here we stand."

  Sora Katra lowered her hands and the perspective suddenly changed… a dizzying, disorienting effect. Thorn felt as if she were rising into the air, looking down upon the army of ogres, trolls, and other beasts… an army that grew larger and larger as she gained a greater perspective.

  "Three years have passed, and we have not fallen. We are stronger than you ever imagined, and our power grows by the day. We are the nightmare of humanity. And so you have come, in answer to our call. To see for yourselves what power we truly possess. To see the mistake you made years ago. Ignore us, insult us, and this is what awaits you."

  Wyverns and manticores joined the beasts in the air, and divisions of gnolls and goblins took positions alongside the ogres and their kin. The army stretched for miles…

  And then it was gone. Sora Katra stood alone in the pool of light.

  "Droaam is the terror that has lingered in the shadows since your civilizations began. Yet we did not destroy your great kingdom. You did that to yourselves. We are easy targets for your fear, but it is time to set aside your primal superstitions and see the world as it truly is."

  She gestured, and sparks of light pulled free from the pool floating above her, flying through the air to illuminate members of the audience. The giant Gorodan; the medusa Sheshka; another oni, whom Thorn guessed was Tzaryan Rrac.

  "The Ashlord's size may intimidate you, but did he slaughter the innocents of Vathirond? Did he order the burning of Shadukar? We are different from you. But we are no more-and no less-evil than you. Now is your chance to embrace that. Set aside your fears and your prejudice. Accept Droaam as a sovereign state under the terms of the Treaty of Thronehold. Accept us as equals and allies. We offer you this second chance, and we are willing to forget the insult done to us three years ago. But spurn us again and we will become your nightmare, in truth."

  The room was utterly silent. To Thorn it seemed that her companions weren't even breathing.

  "I'm sure you have questions. Some of you have deals to propose, others have demands to make in exchange for your support. Over the next two days you will have the opportunity to speak to my warlords, to my sisters and to myself. We will discuss the nation of Droaam and the state of your wounded kingdoms, and how we can all live together in harmony. So let me tell you the laws of the Crag."

  Sora Katra raised a hand, and an image of the Great Crag appeared beside her. Thorn had been inside the wagon during the approach, and she hadn't seen anything of the city at the base of the mountain. It was difficult to make out details on such a small model, but she saw tents and crumbling ruins scattered between newer, more solid structures.

  "We will not tolerate violence, either against our subjects or between delegates. Each of you will have guards assigned to accompany you whenever you leave your quarters; they have been taught to speak your common tongue, which I have sought to spread across the land. Do not wander the corridors of the Crag without these escorts. This may seem rude, but I do not believe that any of you would allow one of my ogres to wander through your royal palaces without guardians… and the Crag is more dangerous than any eastern palace.

  "You are not to leave the interior of the Great Crag for any reason. Six moons will rise over Droaam tomorrow, a time we call the Midnight Dawn. It is a celebration, a festival, but our
ways are not yours, and your life will be in jeopardy if you leave this sanctuary. Heed these warnings, and you will live to return to your homelands. Should you break the rules, I wash my hands of your blood. And as for those of you who have come in hopes of stealing from us, or engaging in acts of sabotage… well, perhaps the aide to the ambassador of Karrnath can speak to this."

  She reached into the shadows and pulled an object from the darkness. It was a human head, skin pale from loss of blood, stump of the neck jagged and ugly as if torn from the body by sheer brute force. The eyes were glazed and sightless, but suddenly they rolled in their sockets and focused on the crowd. Thorn could swear the dead man was looking directly at her.

  "I came seeking a treasure of the Crag," he said, and his voice was hollow, filled with despair. "The Orb of Dol Azur, a powerful artifact which might serve as a weapon in days to come. Sora Maenya ground my bones to dust and bound my spirit so that I might have eternity to consider the error of my ways."

  A slight smile pulled at Sora Katra's withered lips, and she tossed the head toward the table where the Karrns were seated. The Karrnathi ambassador was on his feet, paler even than the dead man, his mouth working silently. He instinctively reached forward to catch the head… and it vanished as it touched his hands.

  "Your man is still alive, Lord Tharsul," Sora Katra said. "He merely sleeps in his quarters, though his dreams are most unpleasant. I would apologize for making an example of you, if you had not brought a spy to my kingdom. Let this be a lesson to you all, for next time it will be no illusion. I welcome you as my friends. Now you have seen what fate awaits those who abuse my trust."

  The Karrnathi ambassador sat down, his face as rigid as that of his skeletal bodyguard. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The Orb of Dol Azur, Steel said. I wonder if he's with Karrnathi intelligence or the Three Faces of War.

  The room fell silent as Sora Katra spoke once more. "You know where you are. You know why you are here. You know what will happen in the days to come, and the laws you must obey. So now, I ask that you enjoy yourselves. Indulge in the delicacies of our land. In the hours to come, you will hear the drums of the Keroine minotaurs and the pipes of the Suthar satyrs. I had planned to give you a taste of harpy song, but in light of recent events, we have set that aside. We are grateful to you for coming, travelers, and tonight is our gift to you. Enjoy it while you can."

  She raised her arms again, and the sparks of light above her flowed down, surrounding her in a brilliant funnel. They grew brighter and faster, spinning in a radiant tornado. And then they burst, scattering across the chamber and filling the room with light.

  Sora Katra had vanished.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Great Crag Droaam Eyre 18, 998 YK

  Thorn's bunk was a blanket set atop a slab of stone. And I was complaining about sleeping on the ground, she thought. I'm already looking forward to the trip back.

  "I'll bet I missed a beautiful sunset," Thorn said. It was a code phrase; 'sunset' let other Lanterns know she was concerned about magical surveillance.

  We are not being observed, Steel whispered.

  "You're certain?"

  One of my primary functions is to sense the use of scrying or other active divinations, Steel told her, sounding slightly annoyed. I've served with thirty-two Dark Lanterns in my time with the Citadel, and I've never been mistaken.

  "At least, you've never had a diviner drop by to tell you that you were mistaken."

  I've never had a mission compromised by magical surveillance when the Lantern has listened to my recommendations.

  "So-no eyes or ears?"

  That is correct.

  Thorn had remained at the feast long enough to identify the remaining warlords, then feigned indigestion and asked a guard to escort her back to her quarters. She sat on her bunk, running her thumb along Steel's hilt and studying the envelope left for her at the dinner table.

  What are your conclusions so far, Lantern Thorn?

  "Let's see. I've just seen a childhood nightmare threaten to trap the soul of anyone who tries to steal from her. And I've been told that she knows who I am and possibly why I'm here. So I don't exactly have a conclusion. I've just been wondering whether Sora Maenya will keep my skull on the mantel or use it as a paperweight."

  Thorn…

  "Don't worry," she said, flipping the dagger in the air and catching it. "I've been through worse." She smiled as she spoke. As dangerous as the situation was, she enjoyed the challenge. Considering the problems drove the lingering pain from her mind; the world seemed sharper and clearer.

  "So," she said, "let's look at what we know. Sora Katra's position is that Droaam is stronger than ever. She says that Droaam isn't a threat to the east unless we turn down their offer, in which case they'll tear the heads off our children and turn us to stone."

  More or less.

  "However, we've seen signs that Droaam isn't quite as unified as Katra would have us believe. She didn't explain the harpy attack, but from what we overheard, it was the work of a harpy chieftain in league with another warlord."

  Indeed.

  "Four warlords are here at the Crag. The giant Gorodan Ashlord. Zaeurl, the cheerful one-eared elf. The medusa Sheshka. And an unfriendly oni named Tzaryen Rrac. Of these, Zaeurl appears to be in favor, but the other three were mentioned as possible traitors. If one of these warlords is allied with the harpies, he may still plan to murder the delegates. And Sheshka has asked for a private audience with our Lord Beren… which would be a convenient time to add a new statue to her collection."

  Steel wasn't worried. Your escorts brought a harpy prisoner with them. I'd assume the Daughters of Sora Kell now know which of their warlords betrayed them. Besides, protecting the delegates is a job for bodyguards. You have another mission.

  "Yes… the one that's likely to end up with my skull on a shelf," Thorn said. "And then there's this." She tapped the envelope with her code name on it.

  Presumably it's a threat, Steel said. They expected the delegates to come in the company of spies. They just want to make sure you don't engage in any activities beyond basic espionage.

  "Good thing I'm not planning anything else," Thorn said. "Let's see what it says."

  The envelope was sealed with a single blob of dark red wax. Thorn pried it off with a fingernail and pulled out a stiff piece of parchment.

  "Well, this is an interesting way to send a warning," she said. "Whatever it is, I can't read it."

  Let me see it, Steel said.

  Thorn laid the note on the bed and passed the knife over it. The sheet was covered with interwoven patterns of lines that seemed more like artwork than language.

  It's Draconic, Steel said. One of the oldest languages in existence. I don't know why they'd expect you to be able to read it. And it's not a warning-not an obvious one, at least. It says, "Nothing lost remains lost forever, not even a bone in an ossuary."

  "Ossuary?"

  A receptacle for bones. Often an urn, though the context suggests something larger. A pit, perhaps.

  "Of course, that explains everything. They're trying to confuse us to death." She stood up, pinned back her hair, and picked up Steel, flipping the dagger to set the blade against her wrist. "I think the tales of Sora Teraza's madness may be more accurate than those of her foresight. Shall we put it to the test?"

  Are you planning to change your clothing?

  Thorn was still wearing the gown she'd selected for the feast-the most exotic piece of clothing in her shiftweave wardrobe. It was a lovely, deep blue with azure and silver trim, complete with jewelry and a short train-a ridiculous thing to wear sneaking around an enemy fortress.

  "You may have a century of experience with scrying, but I'm not letting a dagger make decisions about my wardrobe."

  But-

  "The feast is still going on, Steel. From what we've seen, it should be continuing for hours. I've got a plan, but until it comes together, I'd rather be poor Nyrielle Tam, lost in the dark
while trying to find her way back to the party, than Dark Lantern Thorn."

  Surprisingly wise, Steel said. But what about your guardian ogre, who's waiting just down the hall to take you back to the party?

  "As to that," Thorn said, "I thought I'd get help from a little friend."

  Thorn slipped out of her room. Her clothing wasn't quite as useless as it appeared-while her boots were fashionably high and pointed, they retained their sound-dampening enchantments, and her heels made no sound when they struck the stone. An ogre waited just down the hall; her chaperone, ready to escort her wherever she might need to go. As she'd hoped, he had his back to her. There was only one way out from the Brelish quarters, and he was expecting people to come from the other direction. He made no move as she crept soundlessly across the hall.

  The room she entered was even smaller than her cell, and Thorn winced as the bitter stench washed over her. A warped wooden board sat atop a stone shelf, two holes carved in the plank. A stranger might have guessed that the smaller one was for children, but Thorn knew it was made for goblins.

  The privy, Steel said. Well, I suppose it's wise to empty your bowels before engaging in a dangerous task. Is that what they teach at the Citadel these days?

  Thorn said nothing. Now that they were out in the open, she couldn't afford to speak. It would have been easier to turn invisible and slip past the guardian. But she'd called on the power to eliminate her odor and any trace of her passage. This spell would last for hours, as opposed to a few minutes of invisibility. Given the number of creatures in the Crag capable of tracking by scent, this was far more prudent.

  Especially considering what she was about to do.

  They had traveled six days to reach the Crag, and Thorn had spent a few of her evening hours reading… specifically, reading the parchments she'd found in the sack belonging to the goblin Kalakhesh. Thorn's father had fought on the eastern front and served with Darguul units. He'd taught her the goblin language between the seasons, and while she couldn't speak it well, she could read it. It had taken her a few days to crack the cipher used by the goblin spy, but she'd succeeded.