Thank you so much.'
Senya beamed at him, her blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. 'The fact that I was able to help you is atonement for a great many past sins. You might not recognize it, but you have helped me as well.'
Gaven released her hand and drew her instead into a tight embrace, which she returned. He closed his eyes as he held her, and for that moment he thought he saw the twisting lines of her destiny as well, all the mad rush of her past, but only serenity ahead, the peace of communion with her ancestors and service to her people.
'Now,' she said, pulling out of his embrace. 'I meant where will you go now? When's the last time you slept?'
Gaven laughed. 'It has been a while since I had a good night's sleep.'
'You'll sleep in my room tonight, then.'
Gaven started to stammer a protest, but she cut him off.
'Don't worry, I'll leave you alone. You need sleep tonight.'
He hadn't realized until that moment how tired he was. Without another word, he let Senya lead him back upstairs to her room.
'Sleep well, Gaven.' She kissed his forehead and left him alone in the warm darkness as sleep reached to claim him.
The morning sun dazzled Aunn's eyes, accustomed as they were to the dim light of the cathedral. He scanned the sky for a storm cloud that might point him to Gaven, but the Storm Dragon was not making it that easy to find him. Aunn bit his lip and tried to think. Where would Gaven go?
As far as Aunn knew, Gaven had no papers. Aunn had promised to get him some and deliver them to the Ruby Chalice the night before. Without them, he would find it difficult, if not impossible, to board a Lyrandar airship, the lightning rail, or even an Orien coach.
He had done it before, Aunn reminded himself. Gaven and Senya had taken the lightning rail from Korranberg well into Breland. But that was before the skirmish at Starcrag Plain and the all-out war now being waged in the Eldeen Reaches. Security would be much tighter… unless…
Unless Gaven managed to talk his way onto an airship. It was unlikely, but if he found someone he knew, an old friend who'd be willing to take a big risk for his sake. Jordhan had done it, first ferrying Gaven and Rienne from Sharavacion to Stormhome, then taking them all the way to Argonnessen.
Drawing a deep breath of the wintry air, Aunn got his bearings, then set out toward Chalice Center. He had to find Gaven. The fate of much more than the queen might depend on it.
Harkin sighed. 'Well, this should be interesting,' he muttered as the pair approached the table.
'Ashara d'Cannith?' the tall human woman asked. The dwarf stood behind her, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at Cart.
'I suppose that depends,' Ashara said. 'My baron and the queen would have us say ir'Cannith.'
'By the terms of the Korth Edicts, they would be wrong to give land and noble rank to heirs of a dragonmarked house.'
Ashara smiled. 'And your name?'
'Sentinel Marshal Mauren d'Deneith.' She gave a slight, stiff bow. 'And this is Ossa d'Kundarak.'
The dwarf turned her gaze from Cart and smiled briefly at Ashara, then recrossed her arms and resumed her staring.
'This is Harkin,' Ashara said, 'also of my House, and this is Cart.'
'Cart?' The Kundarak's gaze sharpened. 'Haldren's Cart?'
That explained the harsh stare, Cart supposed. How did this dwarf know him?
'I beg your pardon?' Ashara said.
Ossa stood with her hands on her hips and brought her face unpleasantly close to Cart's. 'Are you the Cart that belonged to the late Haldren ir'Brassek?'
'The last time I belonged to anyone, it was to the army,' Cart said. 'By the terms of the Treaty of Thronehold, it would be wrong to call me anyone's property.'
Ashara beamed at him, but Ossa's face darkened and Mauren scowled as well.
'What's wrong, Ossa?' the Sentinel Marshal asked.
'A warforged named Cart helped ir'Brassek escape from Dreadhold,' Ossa explained. 'I chased them from Cape Far to Stormhome.'
'It's hardly an uncommon name for warforged,' Ashara said. 'This one has been with my House since the war.'
'He has a very independent mind for a Cannith warforged,' Ossa observed. It was true-the warforged at the Cannith enclave had been docile servants.
'But clearly you've grown very attached to him in that time,' Mauren said, 'which is part of the reason we're here.'
Cart shot a glance at Harkin, who was leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, hands folded on one knee. He didn't seem inclined to betray Ashara's lie, but he wasn't leaping to Cart's defense either. His face had a bemused expression, as if he were interested to see how Ashara would worm her way out of the situation.
'You're here because I've become friends with a warforged?' Ashara said. 'Surely the Sentinel Marshals have more important things to do with their time than chase down every soldier, artificer, and dockworker who's struck up a friendship with a warforged.'
'We're not interested in every soldier, artificer, and dockworker, Lady Cannith,' Mauren said. 'We're interested in you.'
Gaven awoke to sunlight streaming through a high window he hadn't noticed in the dark of night. He felt rested, for the first time he could remember. He wondered whether Senya had used magic to knock him out, and how long he'd slept, but he decided it didn't matter. He stood and stretched, and even then the complaints of his cuts and bruises were diminished, if not entirely absent. He felt good, and ready for what fate had in store for him.
He pulled his chainmail shirt back on and slung his scabbard over his back, wondering where Senya might be and whether his emergence from her room might arouse scandalized speculation among the other residents of the temple. As he stepped forward and reached for the door, though, glowing red lines flashed across his vision, part of his dragonmark as it appeared in the shard. He paused, trying to sort out a vague sense of imminent danger and make sense of the pattern he'd seen.
He felt a presence behind him an instant before he heard the soft rustle of silk, and he spun and ducked away. A blot of shadow in the streaming sunlight slashed past him, and a black blade cut across his arm, drawing a thin line of blood that burned even as icy cold spread from the wound. The shadowy figure spun to follow him, relentless in its attack. He yanked his sword from its sheath on his back as he dodged again and his eyes struggled to pierce the shadow that cloaked his assailant.
The figure lunged again, and Gaven tried to bring his sword around to block the blow. His left hand, though, was numbed by whatever toxin coated the assassin's dagger, making his grip on his own sword unsteady. He banged his elbow against the wall as he maneuvered his sword in the tiny room, and the black dagger slipped past his guard and toward his neck.
His attacker's face was close enough that Gaven could see through the veil of shadow. 'Phaine,' he breathed.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the point of the elf's dagger touched the skin of his neck and pressed inward. Then a burst of blinding white light drove away Phaine's cloak of shadows and threw the elf back as a crack of thunder exploded between the two men. Gaven and Phaine slammed against opposite walls of the room.
Phaine struggled to his feet, his breath rasping. 'The power of the storm is still with you after all,' he said, scowling. His eyes ranged over Gaven's body, lingering at the pouches at Gaven's belt. 'So you must have the bloodshard.'
The cut on Gaven's arm was on fire, even as his hand grew increasingly numb and cold, and the toxin spread up into his shoulder as well. His heart pounded in his chest, which he knew would just send the poison coursing more quickly through his veins.
