never said I was stable. But I told you before: I don't take orders from a dagger. If you want to be partners, that's different.'
Perhaps you won't die on me, she thought, trying to ignore the pain of that image.
Very well. Steel's mental voice was calm and quiet. What do you intend to do now?
'I know you hate it when I do these rash, crazy things, but I was considering sleep.' She stretched out on the cot, feeling the hard stone beneath the blanket. 'On the other hand, with a bed like this, considering it might be as close as I'll get.' She remembered the axe. 'What can you tell me about this?'
She passed Steel over the axe Ghyrryn had given her.
It is difficult to say with absolute certainty, but it appears to be an axe, Steel said. Albeit an unorthodox design.
Thorn rapped Steel's hilt against the bed. 'I know that. Tell me about the enchantments.'
It's not enchanted.
'I don't understand,' Thorn said. 'I struck the wolf with you-a solid blow-and it kept coming. Ghyrryn stabbed it with the spearhead and it fell. And he insisted I take the weapon. There has to be something unusual.'
Nothing that I can perceive.
'Could you be mistaken? And I've already heard about the thirty-two Lanterns, so spare me.'
Of course I could be mistaken, Steel said. Magical auras can be concealed. If that's the case, however, I can't help you. I suggest you stab something and see what happens.
'What about the metal? The two blades are made from different alloys.'
That could be relevant, Steel said. There are creatures or spirits who can heal from wounds inflicted by mundane metals, yet can be hurt by unusual alloys. Droaam is the primary source of an ore known as byeshk, which is effective against certain monsters found in the underworld of Khyber. And there are the tales of the lycanthrope and its vulnerability to silver…
Steel's voice trailed off. 'What is it?' Thorn asked.
The wolf. Its body. Did anything happen when it died?
'Other than the bleeding? No. It fell on top of me, but it acted like you'd expect a dead wolf to act. Why?'
A pause-Steel was thinking. Thorn hated that the dagger had no expression, no face she could study for clues.
Most shapeshifting creatures revert to their natural forms when they're killed, he said at last. It's supposed to be true of werewolves.
'I thought all lycanthropes were exterminated by the Church of the Silver Flame. As I recall, that was the subject of our entertaining party chat.'
And given that our dead wolf was just a dead wolf-if strangely difficult to kill-that still seems to be the case. I'm afraid I don't have an answer. I suggest you get some sleep.
'I don't take orders from daggers,' Thorn said. Then she smiled. 'But I suppose I can take your advice.'
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Great Crag Droaam Eyre 19, 998 YK
Ridiculous,' Beren growled. 'This entire affair is a waste of time. Two weeks in a thrice-damned wagon just to listen to an idiot giant parroting speeches he clearly doesn't understand about the 'flaws' in the Code of Galifar.'
Thorn would have said that the ambassador had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, if the beds were large enough to have two sides. Instead, he'd obviously woken up on a stone slab in Droaam, which amounted to the same thing. He'd enjoyed his breakfast more than Thorn; many of the inhabitants of the Crag were carnivorous by nature, and they'd been offered a selection of dried meats and fish. Both Beren and Toli had wolfed down a surprising quantity of this jerky, while Thorn had to struggle to find something she considered edible.
Perhaps it hadn't agreed with Beren after all. Whatever the reason, he'd been in a foul mood ever since, restless and aggressive. Toli hadn't shaved, and he was unusually sullen; Thorn wondered if there'd been another argument with the Thranes after she'd left the feast. When she made a joking inquiry about the late night, the two simply grunted and shrugged it off.
So far, the day had been a tedious one. As Sora Katra had promised, the envoys were given the opportunity to talk to the warlords about matters at hand. The oni Tzaryen Rrac discussed issues of trade and tariffs on Droaamish goods. Gorodan Ashlord was debating the merits of the Code of Galifar-confirming that citizens of Droaam would be protected in nations that operated under the code, and debating the relative merits of adopting the system in Droaam itself.
To make matters worse, the crystal shard at the base of her spine was troubling her. Thorn's neck burned with anger, but the lower stone was an icy dagger grinding against the bone. Finally she excused herself and left the conference hall, walking until she was out of earshot of any guards.
'Living in these caves, you'd probably never see a sunset,' she muttered.
Steel picked up on the code. We are not being observed.
'That you know of.' Thorn lowered her voice until she was barely whispering.
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.
