The Queen of stone tob-1

by Keith Baker

  Correct. When do you plan to take action?

  "Even if the statue is in Sheshka's quarters, I can't just haul it out through the latrine. I'll need her there to break the enchantment. So-tonight."

  Reasonable, Steel said. Why are we out here?

  "Because if I had to spend another minute listening to Lord Tharsul trumpeting the virtues of the Code of Kaius, we might have had an assassination on our hands. And where are the Darguuls? I haven't seen Munta all day."

  Not a good sign, considering Sora Katra's demonstration last night. Is that your only concern?

  "No." Thorn had spent much of the morning retracing the events of the previous night, and something was troubling her. "During the fight last night, when the ogre tried to grab me… I felt a surge of strength, of tremendous physical power. Were you responsible for that?"

  No. I can do nothing to enhance your prowess in combat, aside from serving as a sharp object.

  "And you don't know what happened?"

  It's difficult to study magical auras when you're being thrust into the eye socket of an elf. Could you have imagined it?

  "Possibly… except for the part where I threw the ogre across the room." What truly bothered her was that the sensation had been familiar. Her muscles felt as if they were on fire, as if she were filled with a power her flesh could barely contain.

  The feeling she'd had in the dream, when she killed Drego Sarhain.

  She had nothing more to say. As she neared the diplomats' hall, a handsome man in black attire stepped out of the chamber.

  "Lady Tam," Drego said. "I hoped we could have a moment alone. You left the feast quite early in the evening."

  "I shouldn't have taken a chance on the shellfish, I suppose. I spent most of the evening in the privy."

  He reached out, placing a hand on her arm. Thorn didn't pull away; she could feel the tension in the air and in his touch.

  "Nyrielle," he said, his eyes locked on hers. "We began something in the Duurwood. I'd hoped we could continue it. I know you were defending your countryman the other day, but if we want the war to be over, we need to work together."

  "And what did you have in mind?"

  "During the Duurwood incident, the elf implied that one of the other warlords had turned on the Daughters-and might threaten the delegates. I had some trouble with indigestion myself last night, but I chose to walk it off."

  "If I could turn invisible whenever I wanted, I might have done that as well," Thorn said.

  "I wanted to know more about Tzaryen Rrac. I felt some hostility during the feast. Certainly, he wasn't telling us everything. So I followed him after he left the hall."

  "Considering that all the envoys seem to be alive, should I assume that you defeated him in heroic battle?"

  "Of course," Drego replied, raising his chin in mock arrogance. "Then I resurrected him so no one would guess. No, I saw nothing suspicious at all. No unusual behavior or secret conversations… he doesn't even have an army here. I don't think he's the target."

  "That leaves the medusa and the giant, if the elf is to be believed."

  Drego raised a finger to her chin, gently turning her face up toward him. Bold, Thorn thought. One set of instincts suggested that she drive her heel into his instep and follow with an elbow to the throat. Another part of her had different ideas. He was confident, handsome-and, it seemed, good at what he did.

  "What about you?" he said. "Did you learn anything last night?"

  "You really don't want to know what I saw last night." She gently pushed his hand from her chin. "It's nothing relevant to our shared goals."

  "So you do have your own agenda!" he said. "Just like that unfortunate Karrn. Let it go. You saw what Sora Katra threatened to do to him."

  "And will you just abandon your mission? What-you think I didn't know about it?"

  She didn't, of course. Until now. Drego was good at what he did-very good. But he shouldn't have touched her. Nothing showed on his face, but he couldn't keep the twitch from his hand. And he knew it. He let go of her arm, looking faintly crestfallen.

  "Well played," he said. "So if I tell you, then what?"

  "Then you're placing your mission at risk based on the fact that you like me. Perhaps you haven't been at this for very long, but that's not usually the way to get ahead in this game."

  "Perhaps I don't consider it a game."

  Thorn knew that Steel would be shouting at her right now, but she didn't touch him to find out. Drego was an enemy spy. He was practically volunteering to share information. And she was pushing him away.

  "Do as you see fit," she said. "But I'm not promising anything in return."

  He glanced from side to side, then closed his eyes for a moment-probably using his powers to search for scrying. He took a step toward her; barely any space was left between them. He whispered, "I'm here to kill the Daughters of Sora Kell."

  His proximity was distracting, his words calm and committed; it took a moment for them to register.

  That was ridiculous. Sora Maenya alone was said to have broken a battalion, and Sora Katra had different powers in every tale. If Drego were that powerful, surely she'd have heard about him… then she realized what he was doing.

  "I'm supposed to release Khyber, myself," she said. "At least we're not at odds."

  He chuckled. Thorn had been right the first time. Drego was good at what he did, and he wouldn't give the game away after a single night in the woods. But she'd still come out ahead. She knew he had a secret… and she'd seen him lie. In time, she'd learn to read him. Until then, she could feel the energy between them. He might put his nation first, for now. But the desire was there.

  The door of the conference hall opened, and delegates began to emerge. Drego leaned close to whisper. "The giant or the medusa. Which do you want?"

  She could feel his words against her neck, and it took several moments for the question to register. I'm just leading him on, she thought.

  "Medusa," she said.

  "Flamebearer Sarhain?" Minister Luala had spoken. Drego pulled away from Thorn.

  "My apologies, minister," he said, his dashing smile in place. "I left the hall to look for a latrine, and then I found myself in the midst of a story." He glanced at Thorn. "I do hope there'll be an opportunity for me to finish telling it."

  "As do I. Minister, Flamebearer, if you'll excuse me, I must find Lord Beren. Olladra be with you."

  "Let the light of the Flame be your guide," the minister said.

  Thorn took hold of Steel's hilt as she made her way through the crowd.

  So now he knows what you'll be doing tonight, Steel said.

  "But won't be in my way," she muttered.

  So you hope. I'm just glad that you're not being seduced by his gallant ways and handsome features.

  "Of course not," Thorn said. And in truth, it wasn't the feel of his breath against her skin that stayed in her mind.

  It was the vision of a sword flashing toward his face.

  Beren ir' Wynarn was speaking with Drul Kantar. The oni wore a robe of dark blue silk bedecked with golden stars. Around his neck, a golden chain bore six crystal spheres of various sizes and shades… the six full moons, Thorn realized. She wondered if he had other crystals representing the other moons. Seeing a monstrous creature dressed in such finery was very odd. Kantar had a gentle manner, but he every bit as muscular as the ogre Thorn had fought on the previous night.

  Beren scowled. "There you are," he snapped. "I don't expect to be kept waiting by my aide." If Drul Kantar noticed the unusual emphasis Beren placed on the final word, he didn't show it.

  "My apologies, Lord Beren," Thorn said. "Are we joining the others?" The rest of the envoys were already being ushered away by the ogre guards.

  "In time," Drul Kantar said. "At the moment, someone wishes to speak to you."

  Thorn moved toward the oni. "Drul Kantar, have you seen Lord Munta of Darguun today?"

  Kantar chuckled. "Have no fear, my lady. Lord Munta's
head is still on his shoulders. I'm afraid that the chuul served at the feast disagreed with him. I believe his warriors are standing watch over his sickbed."

  They made their way down the dark, winding halls of the Crag. Thorn felt like she was walking through the body of some enormous beast; the tunnels were as indistinguishable as blood vessels. And I've already been through the bowels, Thorn thought.

  They came to an arched entrance. Drul Kantar raised a hand.

  "Give me a moment," he said, stepping through the archway. Before long, they heard his voice. "Was this necessary?"

  "Yes." It was a woman's voice, beautiful yet assertive. Familiar, but from her distance, Thorn couldn't identify it.

  "I've brought the Brelish ambassador. Can I leave you alone?"

  "Are you questioning my loyalty, Drul?"

  "Only your restraint."

  There was a low hiss. "Don't worry," the voice came at last. "I won't do anything that can't be undone."

  It's likely a show, Thorn thought. Drul and this woman want us to hear the conversation. They're trying to intimidate us.

  A moment later, Drul emerged. "She's waiting for you," he said. "For your own safety, I suggest you keep your eyes fixed on the floor. An escort will be waiting for you when your business is concluded."

  Despite Thorn's suspicions, the giant's concern seemed sincere. She took the lead, keeping her eyes low as she turned the corner.

  A statue stood in the way-a large, bulky figure carved from stone. Slowly raising her eyes, Thorn saw that it was one of the armored ogres that served as diplomatic escorts. His left arm was maimed; the jagged scar suggested that the damage was recent.

  "Come in." Another sound bloomed behind the woman's voice. Distant rain, or the voices of a dozen hissing serpents. This was accompanied by a more disturbing sound… powerful jaws working at flesh.

  Thorn recognized the speaker: Sheshka, the Queen of Stone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY — ONE

  The Great Crag Droaam Eyre 19, 998 YK

  Even though she was shielded behind the petrified body of the ogre, Thorn let her gaze fall to the floor.

  "Our thanks for your hospitality, noble Sheshka," she said as she stepped out from behind the statue. She stressed the last word, making sure Beren and Toli heard her. Both hastily lowered their eyes.

  As soon as she recognized Sheshka's voice, Thorn had entertained the wild hope that the statue of Harryn Stormblade might be in the chamber. But these weren't Sheshka's living quarters, and the unfortunate ogre was the only effigy in the room. This was simply a smaller conference room, apparently chosen for its distance from the main halls.

  The chamber was as barren within as the hall without. A single cold fire torch spilled dim light across the small room, and a few sturdy wooden stools were spread before a round table sculpted from granite. Thorn could hear the medusa's snakes hissing softly, and she easily pinpointed the creature's location on the opposite side of the table. The other sound-the chewing-came from beneath the table.

  "Sit," Sheshka said.

  Toli's job was to secure the area, and he took charge. He pushed Thorn aside with a little more force than she'd expected, and she stumbled on a piece of debris lying on the floor. As Toli examined the surface of the table and pulled out a stool, Thorn glanced down at the object that had almost caused her to fall. It was oblong, crescent-shaped, and a little longer than the palm of her hand. Curious patterning covered it; bending down, Thorn realized that these were the lines and wrinkles found on skin.

  A stone finger. Likely torn from the hand of an ogre.

  Thorn was still processing this discovery when Toli leaped backward, swearing and drawing his sword. The ghostly shield expanded from his ring, shimmering into existence around his right fist. Thorn glanced over to see what had caused his reaction-and found herself staring into the eyes of a basilisk.

  It was small for its kind, not much larger than a wolfhound, and it was curled under the table, contentedly chewing on a chunk of ogre. Its scaled hide was emerald green, and it was flexing the claws on all six of its legs. Its eyes were milky white, with no pupils. And, according to the legends, its gaze was as deadly as that of the medusa. Thorn snapped her eyes shut, knowing it was too late; she'd met the creature's gaze dead on. But nothing happened. She felt no loss of sensation, no chill of her limbs turning to stone.

  "Sheathe your weapon!" Sheshka's voice was fierce. Her serpents hissed violently, but Thorn still heard another blade being drawn-a sword in Sheshka's hand. "Lord Beren, if this guard of yours hurts my Szaj, I will have his head!"

  "Toli, stand down!" Beren commanded, and fury blazed in his voice. "What is going on?"

  "Dorn's teeth, sir!" Toli swore. "There's a thrice-damned basilisk down there!"

  "Szaj will not harm you!" Sheshka snapped. "If he frightens you, look away. Raise your eyes and let us speak face to face."

  Anger infused her voice, but she'd dealt honestly with them at the feast. "Let me," Thorn said. She looked up and opened her eyes.

  As Thorn expected, Sheshka had closed her eyes. The medusa queen projected quite a different image at this meeting. She still wore the silver collar with the smoldering Khyber shard. But in place of her gown of white silk, Sheshka wore a light shirt of fine chain mail, along with vambraces protecting her forearms and long shin guards. She held a curved sword in one hand, and her mane of serpents writhed around her head, hissing her fury.

  "Now lay your weapon down," she said.

  "Toli-" Beren said.

  "No, sir!" Toli snapped. "I'm not letting you put your life in her hands. I want this lizard out of here, and a blindfold on this bit-"

  "Enough!" Sheshka roared.

  Thorn saw the medusa's eyelids opening, and turned away in time. Caught up in his rage, Toli wasn't so lucky. Thorn saw his eyes widen and his muscles go rigid. Black threads spread across his skin, growing and intertwining, spreading from skin to cloth to sword… and then he was gone, replaced by a statue of polished black marble. And he was falling. Toli had been taking a step forward when he meet Sheshka's gaze, and the statue was tipping. Thorn leaped and caught him, straining against the weight of the stone. She couldn't stop the fall completely, but she managed to slow his descent and push him against a stool. He struck hard, but nothing broke.

  Beren swore, and to Thorn's surprise he reached for his sword. Despite his past, Beren had achieved more as a diplomat than he ever had as a warrior, and she'd never seen him lose control during a negotiation. Last night, he'd faced the medusa queen with no qualms whatsoever. She seized his arm before he could draw his blade. Behind her, she heard Sheshka sheathe her sword.

  "My eyes are closed," the medusa said.

  "I should tear them out!" Beren cried. For an old man, he was surprisingly strong.

  "Be calm, Lord Beren," Sheshka said. She had regained her composure. "Your man should have known better. Would you allow someone to speak to your king in such a way? I will restore him when our business is concluded."

  "He was just acting to protect Lord Beren from your basilisk," Thorn said. "How did you expect him to react?" Thorn knew it was unwise to push the issue, but she was as angry as Beren.

  To her surprise, the medusa shook her head. "I forget how little your people know of the world and its wonders."

  Her voice had actually softened. A few of the snakes hissed in a strange pattern, and suddenly the basilisk retreated from under the table, moving over to settle next to the medusa queen. She leaned down and dropped something on the floor… another petrified finger.

  "Szaj is young. His gaze is unlikely to transform a creature of your size. Beyond that, the gaze of the basilisk is dangerous only when its eyes are fully exposed. If you met Szaj's gaze, you'd have seen the pale membranes across his eyes." Sheshka ran a hand across the lizard's head; the finger it was chewing on had somehow become flesh and blood. "He is being trained to be around others without harming them."

  Beren was staring at the statue of Toli, and
the muscles in his jaw were twitching. Thorn spoke before he had the chance.

  "You couldn't have expected Toli to know that," she said. "He believed you were trying to kill us. So did I, for that matter. Surely you could have foreseen this."

  Six serpents hissed at once, watching her closely. "So you've never heard of Cazhaak Draal? You didn't think we would speak at this summit?"

  Beren was still bristling, but he had regained enough composure to speak. "Make your point."

  "You aren't in your Five Nations any more," Sheshka said. She had sheathed her sword, but her voice was deadly. "You have come to my home. Your soldier threatened me with a blindfold. A blindfold, on my soil. Would I come into your castle and strip away your sword, or demand that you wear chains? If I found a hunting hound in your chamber, would I try to kill it, or would I assume it was under your control?"

  "We can't kill with a glance," Beren said.

  "And that excuses your threat to pluck out my eyes? Should I cut off your hands so you cannot strangle me?" The medusa's eyelids fluttered, but remained closed. "Hand, tooth, steel-we are all deadly, Beren ir'Wynarn. If you had studied the creatures of our land, you would have known that Szaj posed no threat. Or you simply could have trusted that I wouldn't allow a diplomatic envoy to come to harm. Instead, you drew a weapon and demanded that I cripple myself for your benefit. I am queen of my own kingdom. You cannot make demands of me, and you should consider yourself lucky that I am willing to restore him. If one of my kin acted in such a way in the presence of your king, I doubt you'd be so merciful."

  A storm brewed in Beren's scowl. "Your kingdom would amount to little more than a city in Breland," he snarled. Once again, Thorn was surprised by his aggressive tone. "Your leaders called us here. You want to join our alliance. We aren't bargaining. We're listening to the pleas of beggars."

  Sheshka's serpents hissed, lying close to her skull. Thorn was ready to push Beren to the floor the instant the medusa opened her eyes, but Sheshka kept her composure.

  "This is futile," she said. "Beggars. Monsters. You cannot trust us unless we are crippled and chained. We reach out to you and you spit on us. I had hoped to discuss the common ground between us, but now I see there is no such thing. I will waste no more time on you. Guard!"