“This is no fey treasure, Lord Commander,” Thorn said. “You know exactly how I came by it.” The shards in her spine were shrapnel, the scars of the explosion at Far Passage. There had been thousands of dragonshards surrounding the arcane core, and Thorn had been struck by dozens; the two she retained were simply the only shards they couldn’t remove.
“There’s still a great deal we don’t know about that incident,” Vron said. “Could you show the other shard, Lantern?”
“Yes, sir.” None of this makes any sense. Still, she pulled her shirt up, revealing the lighter stone embedded in her spine.
“Two stones,” Drix whispered. “And you’re Thorn.”
Oargev and Boranel seemed equally baffled by the turn of events.
Cadrel spoke first. “And so it seems that our life is just a fairy tale,” the old bard said. “Grand in its way. What comes next? A ritual under the towering oaks of the Eldeen Reaches with five moons in the sky?”
“I have no idea, my lord.” Vron gestured to Drix. “The boy is supposed to take the stones back to the feyspire in Cyre. The stones can’t be removed from Thorn, so clearly she has to go with him.”
“Now young Thorn has irremovable shards?” Boranel grumbled. “What happens when hers are removed? Will Galifar be restored?”
“We can only hope so, Your Majesty,” Vron said. “When I first heard Drix’s tale, I thought of you, Lantern. It seems improbable to say the least, yet no more than the idea that the Mournland could be restored.”
The stones removed… The stone in her neck was like a dagger digging into Thorn’s flesh. She’d been told that she’d simply have to bear the pain; the idea that it might be possible to have the stone removed was unhoped for. “Where are we going?”
“To Shaelas Tiraleth, the spire in Cyre,” Vron said. “You may be the first Brelish citizen to see the inside of an eladrin fortress, Thorn.”
“In Cyre,” Thorn said. “In the Mournland?”
“Surely we’ll be sending a team,” Boranel said. Thorn could see the general in him coming to the fore. “I’ll put the full resources of the Citadel to the task. Wands, Swords, Shields-it will be our war against the Mournland.”
Drix raised a hand, but it was Vron who spoke. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Your Majesty. If you’ve been listening to the tale, you know just how paranoid these eladrin are. Drix was told to bring the stones when he returned and nothing else. Even if that wasn’t a concern, you know just how dangerous the Mournland is. With all due respect, Lantern Thorn, you are expendable. We’ll give you the supplies you need, but should you fail in this, it will not be a dramatic blow to Breland. Placing a massive chunk of the Citadel’s forces in such a dangerous field-I cannot condone it, Your Majesty.”
Boranel sighed and the spark in his eyes faded. “Very well, Lord Commander. You were chosen for your judgment. The Lanterns have shed light in the shadows before. I trust you will do so again.”
“You’re not going alone.” It was Oargev.
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness?” Vron seemed genuinely perplexed.
“You’re talking about the fate of my kingdom. The quest I have grappled with for five years. If you think I will stand by while you battle for my nation, you are sorely mistaken.”
“You can’t,” Drix said. As before, the tinker didn’t seem to be concerned with the fact that he was refusing the demands of a king. “I’m just supposed to bring the stones. They don’t like strangers.”
Essyn Cadrel stepped between the two before Oargev’s wrath could grow. “While the boy is impertinent, this time I must agree, Your Majesty. We’ve discussed this before. You are the last of your line, and if you fall, Mishann’s claim is lost. You must remain safe. For Cyre’s sake.”
“I know that,” Oargev said. “I want you to go.”
Cadrel blinked. “Your Highness?”
“You’ve already shown that you understand this business better than I do. You said it yourself, that our lives were becoming a fairy tale. You’re the man who first told me those tales, just as you’ve told me of your adventures. You’ve wandered the world before. Who better to serve me now? Go with them. For Cyre.”
“No,” Drix said. “No strangers.”
Oargev’s face tightened. “Don’t tell me what to do, boy. You claim to hold the fate of Cyre in your hands. I need to trust that you are what you say, that any of this is the truth. If you want my blessing on this, you will have the eyes of the crown upon you. Go with Essyn or I swear I will do everything in my power to stop you.”
Vron raised a hand, but Boranel stopped him before he could speak. “It seems reasonable to me,” Boranel said. “Your boy here will have his stones. Perhaps these elves would bar their gates against a squad of our best. If they’d close their doors against one old man, they’re a cowardly bunch indeed.”
Vron inclined his head. “As you wish, sire.” He turned to Cadrel and Thorn. “I’ve already prepared for the journey; there’s a boat waiting at the Brokenblade dock, ready to take you along the Cyran coast. I’ll need a few hours to gather additional supplies for you, Master Cadrel, and I’m sure you need time to settle your affairs. But I would leave before morning. The sooner we move on this, the better.”
Cadrel was still considering the whole affair. “You’re sure about this, Your Highness?”
Oargev nodded.
A grin slowly spread across the old man’s face. “So be it. I will do my best not to let you down and to return with tales more wondrous that I ever spun in your youth.” He turned to Boranel and bowed. “With your leave, Your Majesty.”
“Of course, and well said.” Boranel clapped Cadrel on the back and walked toward the door. “Sovereigns and Six! I wish I could be going with you. First things first, though-let’s arrange a proper escort for you this time, both to get back to your consulate and to see Oargev to New Cyre. You’ll have every Shield the Citadel can spare until we have you safely home again.”
“Very well, Cousin.” The prince paused by Thorn, looking into her eyes. She could see the fear and uncertainty warring within him. “You served me well this last month. I owe you my life. Serve my people in this, and you will have anything my throne can offer.”
“It’s my honor to serve, Your Highness,” Thorn said with a polite nod. “May the Sovereigns watch over you.”
“Wait a moment, Lantern Thorn.” Vron took Drix outside.
Thorn studied the glowing map on the wall and ran her fingers over the stone in her neck. She was just about to talk to Steel when Vron returned.
“What can I do for you, Lord Commander?”
“For a start, forget that title.” Vron smiled and as he did, his face softened and flowed. His skin was the same pale white, his eyes still shards of glass. They were just smaller and sharper. Cheekbones were higher, his chin slightly pointed. He was still a changeling… a different changeling.
“Zane?”
“For the moment.” Zane was Thorn’s personal handler; he’d recruited her into the King’s Dark Lanterns.
“Was Vron ever here?”
“He was in every way that matters, wasn’t he? There’s a certain level of decorum to a royal briefing, and Oargev surely expected the Lord Commander. But we Lanterns have to deal with more complex situations than the Shields or the Blades. His majesty knows what Vron is doing right now; if my mask keeps Oargev happy, all for the good. Besides, you’re my agent.”
Thorn nodded. It wasn’t the first time Zane had come to her in an unexpected guise, though she’d never seen the changeling impersonate a changeling before. “So what is it you wanted to tell me?”
“What do you think of this assignment?”
Thorn hesitated but she’d never minced words with Zane before. “It seems ridiculous. Do you actually think we can restore the Mournland?”
“No,” Zane said. “I don’t. It’s an entertaining story, and if it somehow turns out to be true… well, it would be a boon to give the thousands of Cyran refugees living off Brelish taxes somewhere else to go. But I think we both know just how likely that is-just as we know that those stones in your neck aren’t eladrin relics.”
“So what am I doing?”
“I don’t believe that these fey are responsible for the Mourning,” Zane said. “Nonetheless, their power is clearly a force to be reckoned with. As far as we can tell, young Drix is essentially immortal. Imagine an army of soldiers possessing such power. Who knows what other secrets are hidden within the walls of that tower? If you
