The Shattered Land: The Dreaming Dark - Book 2 (16 page)

“It sounds like we’re decided, then,” Daine said. “Lakashtai—do we have gold to spare for out guide?”

“I have some coin and letters of credit on the Kundarak Bank,” Lakashtai said. “One does not come so far without gold in hand.”

“Assuming you have gold to begin with,” Daine said, running a finger along his all-too-empty purse. “Well, you’re the mistress of coin. Perhaps you can see if our new friend can find us a trustworthy inn. I don’t know about you, but I’d just as soon get out of this alley.”

“Why doesn’t he know who I am?” Lei said again.

It took Lakashtai and Gerrion some time to work out the details of their arrangement; Alina might have told the gray man to look after Daine, but apparently she’d said nothing about the price of these services. Eventually they came to terms, and Gerrion took the lead.

“There are inns in Stormreach that make soup from the bones of unwary guests,” he said, “but I know a place where you can sleep through the night.”

Lakashtai walked alongside Gerrion, asking questions about the colony. Pierce stayed close behind their guide, listening to every word and taking his measure of the stranger. Daine held Lei back a step, just far enough so they could speak without being overheard.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, tapping her healing wand. “I think we’ll both pull through.” She rubbed at a tear on her sleeve. “Though I’ll need to do some mending, once we’re settled in.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

Daine gestured vaguely. “Everything! We’re across the sea. There’s no law here. We were almost killed a few minutes ago,
and this gray man may be leading us into someone’s soup pot.”

“Where have you been for the last three years?” Lei said. “A week ago I was fighting bugs in the sewers. I’m starting to get used to it. Besides, this is
Xen’drik
. All my life I’ve heard stories. They say the old kingdoms of Xen’drik controlled powers we can’t even imagine—mystical principles thousands of years beyond what my … House Cannith has developed.” She stumbled for a moment; clearly the mention of House Cannith had brought back the memory of her own humiliation at the house, but she soon found her voice again. “Just look at this place. Where else could you find pre-Galifar Lhazaar architecture next to a Zil waterhouse? And … look at that.”

At first, Daine thought the creature she was pointing at was a minotaur. It was a massive humanoid with hooves in place of feet; it wore a red tabard, and its exposed skin was covered with a coat of white fur. Its head was more like a ram than a bull; its horns curved back over its skull.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” She said. “Do you suppose there’s an entire nation of them out in the jungle? Perhaps we could ask.”

She stopped for a moment, but Daine took her arm and pulled her along. “Let’s make sure we don’t lose track of the others. I don’t think we want to be left behind on the streets.”

“You’re telling me this is the safest place in Stormreach?” Daine said. “I don’t know about the innkeeper killing us in our sleep … I think the inn may do that on its own.”

If not for the wooden door at the center, Daine wouldn’t have recognized the structure as a building. At first glance, it seemed like a heap of twigs piled together by some massive bird—though on closer inspection, the boughs and branches were carefully interlaced.

Lei was already examining one of the thatched walls. “It’s densewood,” she said, running a finger along a twig. “The elves of Aerenal use it in place of stone—it’s nearly as tough and durable as granite, but the elven buildings I’ve seen have all used blocks carved from densewood or long timbers. I’ve
never seen a design like this. Try to break off a piece of one of those branches.”

Daine grudgingly tried—and failed. It was just as Lei had said: the twigs were as strong as stone.

“Scratch at the walls all you want, I’m going inside,” Gerrion said. “I don’t know about you, but I intend to celebrate our new partnership.”

The door was carved from a single piece of wood, and the hinges were densewood roots threaded into the labyrinthine walls. Some faint light filtered through them, but most of the illumination in the chamber came from a massive central hearth. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Daine saw that he was standing in the common room. Half a dozen patrons were scattered about the room spread around low wooden tables. The next thing Daine noticed were the cats. There were over a dozen felines of various shapes and sizes in the common room. Some were sprawled around the central fire, others peered out of nooks in the rough walls, and a few were demanding scraps from the more softhearted patrons. Daine was used to seeing a cat or two in an inn, or at least some creature that would keep the vermin down; halfling hostels were often protected by smalltooths, tiny carnivorous reptiles, but this was rather more than he was used to.

“Welcome to the Ship’s Cat, travelers.”

The voice was rough and deep but distinctly feminine. The speaker had the burly, muscular build that would have suited a blacksmith. Her brown hair fell in an unruly mane around her shoulders, and her large golden eyes glittered with reflected firelight. She was a shifter, and the blood of the wilds ran in her veins.

“Harysh!” Gerrion said. “I trust you have room for my four new friends?”

The innkeeper smiled, revealing pointed teeth. “Friends of yours are always welcome, Gerrion—though if you seek lodging, I’ll need sovereigns on the table before I open my doors.”

Gerrion gave a mocking pout. “I’d hoped that we’d finally put that behind us, hostess.”

“Not likely. Now what can I get for you, travelers?”

Eventually Daine found himself tucked into a corner of the room, staring at a large gray cat that apparently had designs on his smoked tribex. The meat was slightly tough, but after days of hard tack and sea rations, it was delightful.

“Here we are,” he said. “Stormreach. Xen’drik. We’ve found our little haven. We have a guide, and we’ve already encountered our first group of assassins. Now do you actually have a plan, Lakashtai, or did we just come here for the tribex?”

He immediately regretted lashing out at her, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Ever since the mental siege had begun, his nerves had been wearing thin, and it seemed harder and harder to hold back his anger.

Lakashtai didn’t rise to the barb. “I do not have answers for you, Daine, not yet, but I know where to begin. There is a sorcerer in Stormreach, and his vaults may hold the key to our problems. For now, I suggest that you enjoy your meal and get a good night’s sleep. I suspect that we’ll be traveling into the wilds before this is done—so enjoy these comforts while you have them. You’ll all need your full strength in the days that lie ahead.”

“If I may ask, my lady, what is the name of this mysterious stranger? I am well rested already, and I may be able to save you some time with your inquiries.”

Gerrion had set his cloak on the floor, and Daine noticed a new detail in the flickering light from the hearth—a triangular tattoo at the top of the man’s forehead, forming a sort of widow’s peak. The tattoo was almost invisible against his pale gray skin and looked as though it continued back beneath his hair; while it was hard to see the details in the flickering light, the design appeared to be a complex pattern of interwoven flames.

“Hassalac Chaar,” Lakashtai said.

Gerrion’s eyes widened for an instant. “In that case, I hope you won’t mind if I ask for some of my payment up front as well. There are debts I promised to pay before I passed away, and it seems that I should do this as quickly as possible. Shall we meet back here at the eighth bell?”

Lakashtai nodded, and after sorting through her belongings
she produced a few platinum coins for the guide. Gerrion gave a slight bow, flashed a smile at the innkeeper, and darted out the door.

“It’s interesting,” Lei said, watching him leave. “He looks like he has elven blood, but I’ve never seen any Khoravar with that skin tone before—or elf, for that matter.”

“He’s certainly in a hurry,” Daine said. “Care to tell us more about this Hassalac, Lakashtai?”

The kalashtar woman glanced toward him, and Daine was surprised by the weariness in her eyes. The strength seemed to have flowed out of her, as if she had been holding herself together until the stranger had left.

“Not now,” she said quietly. “There will be time to talk on the morrow. Let us find our shelter and rest: we have much to do tomorrow.”

The innkeeper led them upstairs, and eventually Daine settled a small room that felt more like a rat’s nest than a hostel. It was only as he was drifting into sleep that he realized—he hadn’t seen Pierce since Gerrion’s departure.

L
ong shadows filled the streets of Stormreach. Cold fire lanterns cast light into the darkness, but in the grimy avenues and alleys around the Ship’s Cat these pools of radiance were few and far between.

The gloom suited Pierce’s purposes, and he drifted from shadow to shadow as he followed Gerrion. He hadn’t decided whether he trusted Gerrion or believed his claim to be an agent of Alina, but Pierce and his companions were in hostile territory. There were enemies about, and Gerrion was one of their only resources. If he were a traitor, Pierce needed to watch his movements. If he truly were an ally, he might need protection from their enemies. Either way, Pierce would be watching.

Pierce loved the hunt. Every thought, every sense, was focused on stalking his prey. This was what he was made for, and it came as naturally to him as breathing would to a human. Instinct guided him to every shadow, every patch of cover. Without even thinking, he analyzed every living creature in his field of vision, judging their apparent abilities of perception and the threat they might present in battle. It was calming, and for a time he let go of all of his concerns and questions, submerging himself in the pursuit of Gerrion.

Gerrion’s behavior was anything but suspicious. He was in no hurry to go anywhere. For the next few hours Gerrion wandered the city. He brought a skin of wine to a group of beggars and passed half an hour with gossip and conversation.
He spoke with a few sailors and simple tradesmen, discussing the weather, the shipping news, word of various expeditions into the interior. Occasionally he brought up the name Hassalac, the man Lakashtai wanted to see—but it seemed like Gerrion was gathering information on his recent activities. If he was betraying Pierce and his companions, the signs were too subtle for Pierce to perceive.