The Gates of Night

CHAPTER 18

Xu’sasar lived in a world without shadows. According to Qaltiar tales, the first drow had been imbued with the essence of night itself, which accounted for the jet-black skin of Xu’sasar’s people and the magical powers of her race. One of those mystical gifts was the ability to see in darkness with the ease that outlanders saw during the day. She was just as comfortable in the utter gloom of a deep cavern as she was in the dappled light of a moonlit forest. As a child she learned to recognize the spectrum of gray shades that reflected the light others saw. When hunting, she needed to know when she was standing in shadow and stepping into the light. Nonetheless, the only true darkness she had ever known was the magical shadows that were part of her own blood-the mystical darkness a drow could project into the world.

For Xu’sasar, the night held no fear. Outlanders feared the darkness, but Xu’sasar had to be taught to recognize the shadows. The night was her dominion, her time to stalk and hunt. Given the choice, she would be dancing through the deepest, darkest woods of the final lands, searching for the most fearsome threats that the realm had to offer.

But the choice wasn’t hers.

“Not my place to say, I’m sure,” Huwen had said. “But if I was a creature what walked on my legs, I’d take the path, you see? You might be running into something coming the other way, yes, but there’s far worse in the deep woods. You’ve crossed the river now, and you’ve come to the heart of the night. Even I don’t know all of what’s out there, and I know enough.”

Xu’sasar should have killed the creature with her first blow. She wanted to show her respect for Daine, to give the outlander the chance to make a decision. She hadn’t expected him to make the wrong one. Did the outlanders know nothing of the final lands? This was a bird of ill omen, surely sent to test and trick them.

And now they were following the path it had suggested for them.

Xu’sasar led the way, searching the trees for any sign of motion. The others followed close behind. This road was cobbled with disks of densewood, irregular circles of many sizes, likely harvested from fallen boughs. The path was wide enough for two giants to stand side by side, and it reminded Xu’sasar of the ancient roads in her homelands of Xen’drik. She tried to remember how many times she had used such roads as the foundations for ambushes, leaping out from the sheltering jungle and scattering unwary explorers with a swift and furious assault.

“She’s got some colorful ideas, that one,” said the crow. “If I had friends in wait, you think I’d do something as obvious as this? I’m so clever I’m stupid, is that it?”

Daine was just behind Xu’sasar, his black-feathered burden in his hands. Xu’sasar turned swiftly. “Stay out of my mind,” she said. “There is still time for you to suffer. You might even live long enough to reach your shelter.”

“So you’re making the decisions now, are you?” Huwen said. “Here I thought you were this one’s hou-Oww!”

Daine prodded the bird’s injured wing, silencing the creature. “Stay out of your mind?” he asked.

“It feeds on secrets,” Xu’sasar replied. “How do you suppose it learned the things it knows? There is still time to kill it and let the knowledge die with it.”

The crow managed a chuckle. “You don’t know nearly as much as you think, girl. You have a few dozen threads, and you think you’ve seen a tapestry. For every two things you know, you’ve got a vast gap in between. Me? I’m no deceiver, no servant of some great evil. I just live here. Everyone’s got to live somewhere, don’t they? This is my patch.”

Daine tightened his grip on the black bird. “And the mind reading? Is that a thread of truth?”

“Oh, well, that,” Huwen said. “I suppose it is. I like the taste of thought, a bit of sorrow, a colorful secret. That’s just what I am. So I have a few memories when I’m feeling peckish. No harm in it, no more than you having a spot of stew now and again. You do me a good turn here, and I’ll be in your debt, won’t I? So why would I let on what I know?”

“I’ve done you a good turn already, bird,” Daine said. “Don’t push me further. If you betray us … well, why don’t you just take a look at my thoughts and see what I have in mind?”

Huwen shivered, ruffling his feathers. “That’s quite … colorful. I’m not sure it’s even possible, but truly, I have no intention of testing it out. As I see it, we’re all on fair ground here. I was doing a bit of snooping. I’m the first to admit that. You caught me, laid hurt on me good. You help me get fixed up, I help you find some shelter for our lady friend here, and everyone comes out even. No need to go thinking things like that.”

“But I still am,” Daine said. “Remember that.”

Daine turned to Xu’sasar. “Your instincts are good, Xu. I understand what you’re thinking. But I’ve made a choice, and I need you to back me on it.”

She was surprised, less by what was said than by the way in which he spoke. Xu’sasar was a child of the wilds, trained to hear the voice of the spirit, and she could sense a growing strength within Daine-something he might not even be aware of himself. She still knew very little about the outlander. She gathered that he’d been suffering from some sort of illness in Xen’drik and that he’d earned the warrior’s marks on his back at the same time that he’d overcome this affliction. She wondered if this predatory spirit had always been within him, or if it was a seed that had taken root in the final lands.

He was waiting for a response. She clicked her tongue and inclined her head, a gesture she’d learned from watching him.

“Good. I need Pierce to carry Lei. If Huwen is telling the truth, that spark of light is the inn. Scout ahead. Take to the woods, whatever you think best. You know how you’d plan an ambush, so use that knowledge.”

She clicked her tongue again.

“Do not engage strangers. I can’t afford to lose anyone else. If you see anything threatening, return and report. If that’s impossible, we’ll need a warning signal. Can you match this?”

Daine whistled, mimicking the call of an outlander bird. It took Xu’sasar two tries to match the call. He taught her two more calls, one for “all clear” and another for “response requested.” At last he was satisfied.

“You may be as sharp as Pierce,” he said. “You may be as quick in the night. Now show me you can be reliable. Good hunting.”

Xu’sasar clicked her tongue and stepped off the path. The bird watched her go but didn’t say a word.

As soon as she stepped off the path, Xu’sasar could feel the presence of the trees. A human might have dismissed this, shaken it off as general paranoia. Xu’sasar knew better. The trees were alive. They were more aware than the moon-dappled oaks on the other side of the river. With every step she took toward Dusk, the forest grew more aware and more hostile. Every step brought them deeper into the domain of the Woodsman. Xu’sasar wondered what shape this spirit preferred, what powers he possessed. She knew nothing of a Woodsman from the tales, and part of her took pleasure in this. She had the chance to carve out new legends. But now she had a task, a duty to protect this outlander. And she found herself feeling the first touches of fear. A noble death was no longer sufficient. She needed to live, to find a way to overcome her foes. What if she couldn’t? What if it was beyond her powers?

She pushed away these fears, pushed away all thought. A slight breeze blew through the trees, and Xu’sasar moved with this wind, slipping through the woods with such silent grace that not even the trees felt her presence.

There was no traffic on the path and little motion in the forest. Xu’sasar saw an owl swoop down on its prey, taking to the air with a tiny man in its talons. A silver fox crossed her path, slipping between bushes. But neither owl nor fox saw Xu’sasar.

Only once did she come upon true danger, and she never even learned what it was. As she drew closer to the light, Xu’sasar felt a swift drop in air pressure. She froze in place, remaining perfectly silent and still. Even her keen eyes could see nothing in the forest, but she felt a presence ahead of her, moving through the woods. At first she thought it was a spirit of pure air, much like the spirits of fire bound by the hated Sulatar. Then it drew closer. The chill she felt was not due to icy air. Once in her life, Xu’sasar had encountered a true ghost, a restless spirit torn from the path of existence. That tormented soul gave off the same chill, but if that had been a light breeze, this was the heart of winter. Even I don’t know all of what’s out there, the bird had said, and I know enough. Now Xu’sasar knew what he meant. She didn’t want to know what this being was. She just wanted it to pass her by.

And it did.

The sensation lasted only a moment, and then it was gone. Xu’sasar held her breath a little longer, but the spirit had moved away, deeper into the woods. It was traveling away from Daine, and it hadn’t touched the path, so perhaps the bird had spoken truly after all. Perhaps the road was safe. The memory of the chilling presence lingered long after the spirit had passed, and Xu’sasar moved closer to the path for the remainder of the journey.

She didn’t have far to go. The point of light grew larger, and soon she could see that it was a lick of cold fire contained in a crystal cage, hanging from the bough of a tree. She had reached their destination.

It was easy to see how the Inn of the Crooked Tree had come by its name. The building itself was made of thatched straw and black mud, but it was built around a graywood oak, a twisted tree with a dozen crooked boughs stretching out over the long roof. Windows were made of a dark stained glass, but Xu’sasar could see the flicker of fire within, and she could smell smoke in the air. Shadows shifted against the windows, and Xu’sasar could hear laughter and conversation. She circled the building, listening to the faint sounds until she could distinguish the voices. Then she sprinted back through the night, skirting the edge of the road. The cold spirit that had brushed against her had moved on, and she encountered no significant threats on her return.

“The path is clear,” she said, when she reached Daine.

He nodded, and she fell into step alongside him as they moved down the road.

“Well, someone said it was, didn’t they?” Huwen said.

“Oh, right, that was me. Seems like I know a thing or two after all.”

“There are two levels to the building,” Xu’sasar said, ignoring the bird. “I believe there are only four people inside-at least, four who are awake. I saw no guards or sentries. The surface of the walls is easy to climb. I would suggest that I enter the second floor, kill any who sleep, and wait for you by the stairs. When you enter the front, we can converge on the four below, taking them off-guard.”

Daine and Huwen stared at her.

“What?” Daine said at last.

“We are outnumbered, but we will have the element of surprise. Our enemies may not be fully armed, though in this land we must obviously be wary of magic.”

“Did you …” Daine shook his head. “Just tell me when these people became our enemies.”

Now it was Xu’sasar’s turn to be puzzled. “We seek to claim their shelter, do we not?”

“It’s an inn,” Daine said. “You know … inn? Where people give you shelter in exchange for gold?”

“Gold?” Xu’sasar considered this. In Xen’drik, shelter was a precious thing. Her people did not build. Once they traveled to a new area, securing a ruin or a cavern was always the first order of business. You might share shelter with a tribe bound to you by blood, but when strangers held that which you desired, violence was simply the way of things. Unless …

Had she misunderstood Daine? Did he mean a place where people exchanged shelter for flesh? Certainly, that would make more sense than a gift of soft metal.

“Who are you planning to give to these strangers?” she said. The scorpion had ordered her to protect Daine. It said nothing about allowing him to sell her.

Daine frowned. “I’m not giving them anyone. It’s an inn.” He sighed. “I guess you’ve never seen one. They make a living providing shelter to strangers. In exchange for valuable goods. Not people.” He glanced down at Huwen, who had kept his beak shut throughout the exchange. “Since she’s brought it up, what sort of coin do you trade in here?”

“That’s all down to Ferric,” Huwen said. “Whatever he deems fair. He’ll make you a deal. I’m sure of that.”

“It would be far simpler to kill those inside,” Xu’sasar said. “We could make a beginning with the bird.”

Daine held the crow’s beak shut with his thumb and forefinger, silencing the bird before it could respond. “Enough, Xu. There’s no need for killing here. If I have to drop an enemy, I’ll do it. But I’m not killing a man just to get a roof over my head for one night. Understood?”

Xu’sasar clicked her tongue, and they moved forward once more.

Daine was a mystery to her. Xu’sasar would follow his orders, but she would be ready for whatever treachery awaited them. Clutching the bone wheel in her hand, she concentrated, remembering the lessons she’d learned as a child and envisioning a new shape. The wheel flexed and contorted in her grip, ivory melting and stretching. Xu’sasar reached down with her left hand to grip the second hilt. A moment later she held a bone dagger in each hand, with an ivory chain connecting the hilts. She tested the blades. Their balance was a thing of beauty, and she felt as if they were her own claws. She showed her teeth to the moon above and hoped the people at this “inn” would give her a reason to shed blood.

“You’re certain of this?” Xu’sasar said. They stood outside the Crooked Tree.

“I’m certain,” Daine said. “Now open the door for us. And put the knives away. We don’t want these people thinking we’re killers.”

“That would be a ludicrous misunderstanding,” Huwen said. “I’d laugh at the very idea of it, if I weren’t distracted by the agonizing pain of a broken limb.”

Xu’sasar tucked the blades into the straps of her harness, shortening the chain with a thought. She felt a slight emotional tremor as she approached the door, and once more she realized the touch of fear. It was the chaos, the uncertainty. In Xen’drik, life had always been simple. Strangers were enemies. Life was conflict. She was always ready for a battle, prepared to die with a weapon in her hand. But to enter a stranger’s lair with empty hands, to trust the unknown, was terrifying.

Xu’sasar forced down the fear, struggling to keep her emotions hidden from the outlanders. She was a war-wraith of the Qaltiar, and there was nothing this human could do that she could not. She threw open the door and stepped inside.

The room was warm, the air smoky and slightly sweet. Fires were set in stone hearths to each side of Xu’sasar, and the low and steady flames seemed the only source of light in the wide room. It was likely a dark chamber, little better than the moonlit night, but shadows meant nothing to Xu’sasar, and she scanned the room, taking in every detail. Packed earth floor. No tables or chairs, only large cushions scattered across the floor. A short man watching from behind a long counter, sorting through piles of leather water-skins. The wide trunk of a gnarled tree rose up in the center of the room and extended through the roof. A spiral staircase coiled around the trunk. And a man and a woman danced, moving slowly to the soft and somber music.

“Welcome!” The innkeeper made his way out from behind the counter and strode toward Xu’sasar. He was a soft man, bones hidden beneath rolls of fat, and he wore a coat of gray velvet and a comforting close-lipped smile. He seemed in good health and good spirits, yet his voice was that of a dead thing, as if his lungs were rotting within him. Xu’sasar stepped to the side, setting her back against the wall, and her left hand slid to the hilt of a dagger.

“Welcome to the Inn of the Crooked Tree!” the man continued, pleasant words at odds with his ghastly tone. “Always a pleasure to see one from the quiet lands under our humble roof. It has been so long, and even longer since I’ve seen one of your kind.”

Xu’sasar evaded the innkeeper’s embrace, but his smile didn’t falter. He indicated the cushions on the floor.

“Please make yourself comfortable. May I get you some food, something to drink, perhaps?”

“We need a room for the night.” Daine had followed Xu’sasar into the building.

“And just wait until you see who’s with them, Ferric!” Huwen crowed.

“Huwen!” The innkeeper said, beaming. “It has been far too long since you graced us with your presence. Now, what’s this ab-”

The innkeeper fell silent, and the music came to an abrupt halt. The dancers stopped where they stood.

Pierce entered the common room with Lei in his arms.

“Lady … Darkheart?” The innkeeper said, his face paling.

“In a manner of speaking,” Huwen replied.

“I don’t know what this is about,” Daine said, “and I don’t care. Huwen says that you’re no friend to this Woodsman. Is that the truth?”

“Oh, yes,” the innkeeper said. “Have no fear, good sir. We won’t be telling the woods of your wounded lady.”

“Good,” Daine said. “Then you’ll give us a room?”

“Of course. But there is the matter of price. This is a business, not a sanctuary.”

Daine nodded. “I have gold.”

“Gold? We have no use for coin beneath the Deepwood Moon. It will take more than metal to earn your board beneath the Crooked Tree. What else do you have to offer?”

“The life of a wounded bird,” Daine said, placing his free hand around Huwen’s neck.

Xu’sasar was impressed. She’d thought Daine a fool for sparing the creature. It never occurred to her that he might use it as a hostage. Still, she was not convinced that he would stand by his hard words.

Neither was Ferric. The innkeeper laughed, a gasping, wheezing sound. “Good sir, Huwen is a customer, and if he seeks my shelter, he too will need to pay a price. You cannot trade on his life. No, if you wish the protection of our walls, you will need to give of yourself. Say … your fine voice.”

Xu’sasar glanced at Daine. She could draw and strike in the blink of an eye. Surely now he would see the wisdom of buying their shelter with blood.

Perhaps the innkeeper could read her thoughts; perhaps he simply saw her hands slip to the hilts of her knives. “I do advise against it, miss,” he said. “I’m sure you could kill me, but I assure you that the Crooked Tree would be no safe haven after my death.” His smile widened, and now she could see his needle-sharp teeth.

“Tell me your terms,” Daine said.

“Oh, I’m a fair man, sir,” Ferric said. “I do not expect you to be silent forever. I will simply take custody of your voice during your stay. I have this time to enjoy it, and you have our hospitality.”

“Do not do this,” Xu’sasar said. She needed no tale to tell her that this was unwise, but the stories of her people were filled with legends of those led astray by cunning spirits.

“Shelter for myself and my companions,” he said. “One price for all.”

“That sets such a bad precedent,” Ferric sighed. “Nonetheless, you travel in august company, and it pleases me to place a thorn in the foot of the Woodsman. How is this: As only you will pay the price, I will give you but one room. How you use that space is your concern. You will be silent for the duration of the stay, until I give you a voice when you leave our company. A fair deal, yes?”

“And you guarantee our safety?”

“For as long as you remain beneath the Tree, yes, sir.”

“Do not do this,” Xu’sasar said again.

“I must agree with Xu’sasar.” It was the first time Pierce had spoken since they had left the banks of the river. “There are strange forces at work in this place, Captain. Surely we can find other shelter.”

Daine released his grip on Huwen’s neck, and the bird chuckled. “Not likely, tin man. The closer you get to the Woodsman, the worse things will be for you. This is one of the few free houses in this hour of night, and Ferric speaks truth. If you want true shelter, you’ll be needing to meet his price.”

“Enough!” Daine said. “Lei needs the rest, and we don’t know what’s out there. If I can buy us safe haven with one silent night, that’s a worthy exchange.” He turned to the innkeeper. “How do we do this?”

“It won’t take a moment, sir. Not a moment. Just open your mouth and we’ll be about it.” The pudgy man reached up, placing one soft hand on Daine’s throat.

Daine screamed.

Xu’sasar drew knives and set the points against each side of the innkeeper’s neck. Daine had dropped the wounded crow, and his face was a mask of pain. His scream seemed to hang in the air, and then Xu’sasar realized that it was hanging in the air-that a wisp of silvery smoke had emerged from Daine’s mouth, and that the agonized sound was emerging from this floating mist. The smoke flashed through the air and into Ferric’s mouth, and the room fell silent again.

“If you don’t mind, miss, that’s rather uncomfortable.” It was Daine’s voice, steady and firm-but the words came from Ferric’s mouth.

Xu’sasar’s knives still pressed against Ferric’s throat. She looked at Daine. His face was pale and covered with cold sweat, but it seemed that the pain had passed. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Finally he stepped forward and pushed her blades from the innkeeper’s throat.

“Thank you, sir,” Ferric said with Daine’s voice. “I do appreciate a man who keeps his word, even when he sells his words. Now let me show you to your quarters. Afterward, you and your companions are more than welcome to enjoy the hospitality of our common room.”

Daine shook his head.

“As you will, sir. Follow me.”

The innkeeper led them to the staircase that wound around the gray tree. As they crossed the room, Xu’sasar noticed a detail that had escaped her, and despite the many terrors she had seen, she felt a slight chill. The fires in each hearth burned merrily, but they were fueled, not with wooden logs, but with human bones, intact but blackened and charred. As they ascended the staircase, Xu’sasar saw that the bones bore the marks of tiny, needlelike teeth.

The room on the second floor was gray. The gray mattress was stuffed with withered hay and covered with a blanket of gray wool. A small, scratchy woolen carpet covered the floor, and the rug was as gray as the wood beneath it. The window was covered with dust, and the moon beyond cast a faint gray light across the floor.

Pierce set Lei down on the bed. “Her condition is unchanged,” he said. “Is there anything we can do for her?”

Daine opened his mouth. He blinked, then shut it again, lips twisted into a scowl. He looked at Xu’sasar.

“There is nothing to be done,” Xu’sasar said. She thought of the tales she had heard of the Keeper of Secrets. “We can only watch and protect her body. The struggle is within, and nothing we do can affect it. Nor can we see what she faces. The battle may already be over, and she may have lost. If this is the case, she will never wake, and we will know only when she starves to death.” She met Daine’s gaze. “It may be a mercy to end her misery.”

Daine shook his head, his gaze was hard. Xu’sasar could see his anger at the very suggestion, and she felt a strange pang of guilt. She did not know this Lei, and she barely knew Daine. With each passing hour, she felt ever more alone. She was the last of the Jalaq Qaltiar, and the voice of Vulkoor had forbidden her from following her kin along the paths of death. Her destiny had been bound to this Daine. These three were the only family she had left, and while she did not know Lei, she meant her no harm. She would have offered the same swift mercy to any member of her tribe suffering from a lingering ailment.

“That would be unwise,” Pierce said. “You may not care for Lei as we do, Xu’sasar, but she is our guide in this place. Without her, our odds of survival are slim.”

“I meant no disrespect,” Xu’sasar said. “Starvation is a slow death, and if her soul is already lost, I should not wish to watch her body suffer.”

Daine’s scowl deepened.

“Let us hope it does not come to that,” Pierce said. “My lady has a strong spirit, and I am certain she will rise again.”

Xu’sasar cast about her mind, searching for words of apology. In the end, she simply clicked her tongue and bowed her head, breaking contact with Daine’s accusing gaze.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly at the unfamiliar touch but raised her eyes. His expression had softened, and he pointed at the bed.

“I do not understand,” she said. Was this some sort of sexual overture? Despite the growing bond she felt with the trio, they were still outlanders.

“I believe that the captain is offering you the remaining space on the bed, so you may rest in comfort,” Pierce said. He paused, then continued. “I believe that he is unaware that your race does not sleep.”

Daine’s eyes widened slightly, and he glanced at Pierce. Not sleep? he mouthed.

“Indeed,” Xu’sasar said. “This weakness was purged from our kind in the time of horror, when darkness struck at the dreams of the mighty.” She looked at Daine. “Take this comfort for your own. I shall watch over you.”

Daine shrugged. He glanced at Pierce.

“I will guard the door, captain. Do you wish to obtain food before you sleep?”

Music had begun anew in the common room, and the sound of laughter rose through the floor-Daine’s laughter. Daine frowned as he heard, and he shook his head. He sat down on the bed, and for a time he stared at Lei. Then he removed his armor and settled onto the bed next to her. Moments later, he was fast asleep.

Xu’sasar looked at Pierce. The warforged towered over her, and he watched her with glowing eyes. Moments passed in silence, neither one moving. She wondered if he was evaluating her potential as a threat, considering the ways he would defeat her if they faced one another in battle. That’s what she was doing as she studied him. She knew that this man of metal was an ally, and she respected his skills as a hunter and fellow traveler in the night. But he was still a strange and unnatural creature. As she looked at him, the memory rose of the being who had transformed into a storm of razors-the creature who had killed her father and left her for dead. The desire for vengeance against this Harmattan still burned within her, and when she looked at Pierce it was difficult not to see the shadow of that monster.

“I will stand outside the door and guard the hall,” Pierce said. “From that position, I will be able to hear the events in the common room below, and any sounds of alarm from this room. You will defend my companions?”

“With my blood,” she replied.

Soon Xu’sasar was alone with the sleeping humans. She knelt in a corner of the little room, setting her back against the wall. She drew her bone knives and let her thoughts drift across the linked weapons, watching them ripple and shift in response. The Tooth of the Wanderer, the man had called it. A weapon of destiny, the blade you were born to carry.

And what destiny do we share? she’d said.

What would have happened if she hadn’t asked? Now, there was no way to know. She could only sit in the gray room, watching the humans dream and preparing for the battles tomorrow would bring.