“Go,” he said, the pain making his voice tight. He coughed more blood. “My thoughts… hold the power in check. Get clear.”
Thorn nodded. Lharen’s blood was pooling on the floor. And none of them could survive another trip through the whirling wall. She still didn’t want to leave him. “I meant what I said, Lharen. This won’t be forgotten.”
“I know,” he said. “And I know-”
He jerked, choking. Then Thorn saw the crystal embedded in the side of his head, a shard that had pierced his skull. He fell forward into the deadly wall. Thorn spun and shoved Mayne with all her might, pushing him down the corridor.
And the core exploded.
A wave of force lifted Thorn and flung her down the corridor. This wave had teeth. Crystal shards filled the burning wind. Impact with the floor drove the breath from her lungs, and she could feel the dragonshards piercing her flesh, blood running down her back.
A strong hand pulled Thorn to her feet. Mayne. Blood ran from a few wounds, but Thorn had saved Mayne from the worst of it. “Can you stand?” he asked.
Wait, Thorn thought. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it happened. In reality, the force of the explosion had knocked her out. It had been days before she’d woken.
She felt dizzy. She reached out to stabilize herself, pressing her hand against Mayne’s chest.
He screamed. Her hand felt as though it was on fire, and she could feel energy flowing up from her arm. Mayne’s scream faded far too quickly, and he collapsed, dead weight against the ground. For her part, Thorn felt stronger than ever, as if Mayne’s strength had been added to her own. It was a familiar sensation. It had happened once before. In the Great Crag of Droaam, she’d been wounded by a werewolf who had once been her ally. She’d touched him, and he’d fallen, just like this-as if she’d stolen his lifeforce to survive.
“But that’s not what happened here,” she whispered.
“How do you know?” The voice rang out from behind her. A woman’s voice, familiar and full of cruel mirth.
Thorn spun, her dagger in her hand. A mirror stood before her. She was dressed in a gown of black and red silks, the colors of a moonless night and fresh blood. Long boots of red leather covered her legs, and matching gloves ran up her arms; the fingertips had been removed, revealing curving nails painted with black enamel and sharpened into claws.
It’s only a dream, Thorn told herself. She’d passed out when she’d struck the ground, and she’d never seen Mayne again. They’d told her that he succumbed to his own injuries after getting her to safety-that a tiny dragonshard had found its way to his heart. But all that she knew for certain was that she’d passed out at Far Passage, and she’d never seen Mayne again.
“Who are you?” she demanded, dagger at the ready. Dream or no dream, she was ready for a fight. “What do you want?”
Her dark reflection laughed, tossing back her hair. The light caught a stone at the base of her neck, and Thorn felt a piercing pain against her own spine And then she was awake. Lying in her bed in Dragon Towers, the Khyber shard throbbing in her neck. She ran her fingers across the mark surrounding her right eye. It was a forgery-part Citadel magic, part Riedran living tattoo-and it seemed it was good enough to fool Fileon.
But was Fileon the one being fooled? When she had been assigned to the Far Passage, she’d been given her magical ring, told that it would let her see in the deepest shadows. That had been a lie. Thorn pulled the ring from her finger, as she had done many a night before. Her vision was unchanged, every detail revealed in sharp black and white.
Never a gift at all. It was the crone Sora Teraza who had said that-the infamous oracle of Droaam. Never a gift at all, she’d said, handing Thorn her ring. This is not the gift you were given, and what you were given was not a gift.
There was nothing for it. She needed to talk to her partner.
She leaned over and pulled her belt from the bedpost. She drew Steel and laid the blade across her legs.
We are not being observed by magical means. His voice was clear and calm, a deep whisper in her mind.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s talk about the first man I killed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Dragon Towers Lharvion 16, 999 YK
You’ll have to be more specific. Steel’s psionic voice was calm, betraying no hint of emotion. The first man you killed on this assignment? Since we became partners? In your life?
“Why was I chosen for this mission, Steel?”
House Cannith and the Twelve are concerned about the apparent growth of House Tarkanan in recent years. Specifically, they believe that a new leader within the house poses a threat to their operations. Cannith barons approached the Citadel, which agreed to investigate the matter both as a favor to House Cannith and as a matter of Brelish security… and to eliminate the threat if it exists.
“I know all that,” Thorn said, slightly annoyed. The dagger’s psychic voice had a condescending tone that often got on her nerves. “But why was I chosen for this assignment?”
The nature of the mission precluded the use of any local Sharn Lanterns. You were available. You’re proficient in the operation of Riedran tattoos, something required by this assignment.
“That’s all?”
Need there be more?
“I don’t know,” Thorn said. She ran a finger across her false mark. “Yesterday, Fileon asked me to tell him about the first time I killed someone with my aberrant dragonmark.”
And your answer appeared to satisfy him. Of course, the mark you’ve been given doesn’t actually kill. However, given the diversity seen in aberrant marks, this shouldn’t be a concern. The worst outcome I can imagine is that he will believe that you’re holding back.
“Am I?”
No. The tattoo allows you to cause debilitating pain but would only kill someone who is in a severely weakened condition.
“I’m not talking about the tattoo.” Thorn held the dagger before her, studying the unreflective black steel of the blade.
What then?
“Toli. Perhaps you remember him? Tall, King’s Shield, a little hairy in the end… and dead because I touched him.”
Your point, Lantern Thorn?
“Do I have an aberrant dragonmark?”
Don’t be ridiculous. Surely you remember when this mark was applied. And it does not kill.
“But I do, it seems.”
Toli died under mysterious circumstances. Perhaps it was a side effect of the curse that transformed and controlled him. Even if you were somehow responsible, you have no mark of your own-and if you have no mark, it logically follows that you have no dragonmark.
“And are you so certain that I don’t have a mark? What if it’s hidden beneath my hair? What if it’s invisible?” She touched the dragonshard embedded at the base of her neck. “What about this? Could there be power within it?”
No, Steel said. One of my primary functions is the analysis and identification of magical auras. If there were any power in those stones, I would know.
Thorn said nothing. Steel knew as well as she did that auras could be hidden. And beyond that… Steel was the closest thing she had to a partner. But ever since Droaam, she sometimes wondered whether she could trust him. She knew that his first loyalty was to the Citadel. He’d withheld information from her before, sharing the details of a mission when he deemed it necessary. And he’d told her that her enhanced senses came from her ring-
