young races have grown bold, while you are all but forgotten.”
He fixed Cadrel with his dark eyes. “Tell me, human, and tell me true: You have seen the wonders our people can produce. You live in a world at war. Do you not wish to have such powers for your own people?”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” Cadrel said with a smile. “My people have no stake in the war anymore. Our nation was destroyed. If these remarkable theories are correct, it was the actions of this woman here that did it.”
“Yes,” Doresh said. “She brought a kingdom to ruin with a single stroke. Unusual circumstances, to be certain. Perhaps you would not use such a thing yourself. But tell me that there are not those among your kind who would stop at nothing to harness such power, who would use it to dominate this land.”
Cadrel looked at Thorn, a nervous smile playing at his lips. “Well, Cyre did not start the war; all we ever sought was peace-”
“And what of me?” Cazalan Dal stood in the room. “Sent into the Mournland in search of what? A way to reclaim the ravaged land? Or a way to harness its power-to find a weapon that could be used to force the other nations to their knees?”
The winter eladrin moved toward the Cyran soldier, glittering blades drawn. Tira’s eyes were blazing, and Thorn held Steel ready to throw. Cadrel’s face was ashen. Then Cazalan shivered and faded away.
“Such is my power,” Shan Doresh said. “To bring dreams into the open. You know this man and his mission, Essyn Cadrel. Once he served your nation; now he may want power for himself. But he wants power. As does your king, Nyrielle Tam. And the Karrnathi warlords that mass their forces around your spire, Shan Syraen. I looked out upon the world, and I saw our people in fear. I felt your call through the stone, Lady Tira. And I knew why the Citadel of Dreams had been called back to this world. Your ancestors refused to aid me in my time of need, and I will not repeat that mistake. I hope that this act of faith will forge a new bond between us, that when I come before this council in days to come, you will remember my wisdom.”
“I would hear more of this now,” Syraen said.
“And I,” Lord Joridal added, emerald lights darting around his shoulders.
“We have much to discuss, to be certain. But perhaps this is a conversation best kept to the ghaele. And the safety of the Silver Tree is surely the first step in securing the future of our people. Lady Tira, you have said that time is of the essence. Tell us of the ritual that will save this land and the Tree. What must be done?”
Tira’s expression was hidden behind her veil, but her voice was cold. “Like calls to like. The bonds between the stones must be strengthened. I have prepared a vault below, where the ritual will be performed. For now, the shards must be left alone for a time, allowed to bond away from their masters.”
Syraen raised an eyebrow. “You would have us surrender the greatest treasures of our people?”
“I would. For hours only. They will be sealed in the vault.”
“And what of us?” Thorn said. “I’m afraid I can’t just give you my shards.”
“You are not the master of the shards that you bear,” Tira told her. “You need not be separated from the stones. But you will have to be sealed in the vault and to remain still while the connections are established.”
The Rose Queen laughed. “You wish us to leave our gifts alone with these outsiders? You are mad, Tira.”
Shan Doresh spoke before Tira could respond. “Your fears are understandable, my lady. Still, unless much has changed since I last walked these halls, the vaults of the Silver Tree are all but impregnable, and I can’t imagine they open from the inside.” Reaching up, he removed his brooch and held it out to Tira. “I trust you, Lady. I place the future of my people in your hands, as the future of every spire rests on the fate of the Silver Tree. And I hope the rest of you will do the same.”
The gnome lord was first to follow. “You have stepped from the shadows of our history, Doresh, to remind us of a time when we put fear before wisdom. We will not make that mistake again.” He drew a golden chain from around his neck, the stone glowing within.
Syraen said nothing. He simply drew his sword from its scabbard and set it down upon the table. Joridal and the Rose Queen grimly followed suit, surrendering their treasures.
Cadrel stepped forward. “I hope you will forgive my impertinence, great lady. But if you are sealing my companions in a vault, I’d prefer to remain with them than to be alone outside. I am a storyteller by trade; if they must lie still for hours, I can help them while away the time.”
“By all means, keep them together,” Syraen growled. “I’d rather have them all trapped than have one of them running around.”
“Very well,” Tira said. “Follow me, and I will show you the room where you will change your world.”
“Well, that was an interesting hour,” Thorn said. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of an elaborate arcane seal painted on the wooden floor. Each of the fey treasures sat in a similar seal, spread around the room. Drix was lying on his back in a circle in the very center of the room, adjusting the pulleys on his crossbow. Cadrel paced around the edge of the chamber. “I’m not even sure which ridiculous claim to begin with. Drix here is the cause of the Mourning. Drix is the only thing that saved us from the Mourning. The shards of shrapnel in my back are ancient artifacts of great power, despite the fact that they have no magical auras and were, well, shrapnel. And now some ancient champion-who I dreamed about, by the way-has appeared from the past to either save us all or incite the spires against us. I couldn’t quite tell. Is that about it?”
“Well-”
Thorn cut Cadrel off before he could complete his sentence. “Oh, and Drix is both a Cannith heir and the prince of a long-forgotten kingdom.”
“I liked that part,” Drix chimed in. He tested the pull on the crossbow.
“Still-” Cadrel began.
“Oh, and let’s not forget that your Covenant of the Gray Mist was created to unlock the secrets of the Mourning so they could be used against the rest of us. Anything you’d like to add to that, Essyn?”
“You’re not a fool,” Cadrel said, “so don’t play the part. Yes, we wanted to harness the power of the Mourning. But tell me, do you truly believe that your Citadel isn’t working on the same thing? That the Royal Eyes of Aundair don’t have teams in the Mournland this very moment?”
“The Royal Eyes are bastards, I’ll give you that. But-”
“The Mourning is the greatest mystery of the age,” Cadrel continued. “And the greatest opportunity. We fought each other for a hundred years. The Mourning ended the war in one day, and fear of the Mourning is the only thing that keeps that war at bay. Whoever harnesses that power will dominate the next age.”
“And you want it to be Cyre?”
“I suppose you want it to be Breland? We had the best claim to the succession. We lost our home to this power. The Mourning took everything from us. If we could use it to get it all back, we had to try. Oargev never knew the true purpose of the Covenant, of course. There’s quite a lot the young prince doesn’t know. And now it seems the Covenant has its own ideas… unfortunately.”
Thorn sighed. “I wish I could argue with you, but I’m sure you’re right. Aundair, Karrnath, even Breland… I’m sure they’re all trying to harness the power of the Mourning. Which brings us to the next point. All of these nations, pouring their gold into studying the Mourning. And now they say it’s Drix. Do you think you can turn him into a weapon?”
“I don’t think I’d be a very good weapon,” Drix said. “But any design can be improved.”
Cadrel laughed. “No. I don’t think stabbing children is the next evolution of warfare. Besides that, if you believe that story, I don’t think it was simply a matter of someone stabbing Drix. I think it had to be the queen. And she had to act in anger.”
“And you believe that?”
“Honestly? No. But it makes a wonderful story. I’m sure it was a coincidence. But it’s brought us to this vault, given us this chance to study these treasures and tools. So what do you think? Once we steal them, how do we divide up the shards?”
He sounded utterly sincere, and Thorn looked over in surprise. For a moment he kept a straight face; then he burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, my dear. But it was worth it just for the look on your face. And tell me the thought hadn’t occurred to you.”
“Of course it occurred to me,” she said. “And I’m sure Lady Tira expected as much. We’re at war and if each of these shards has power to match the one in Drix’s chest, we’d be fools not to want them. But we have no idea
