The Queen of stone

CHAPTER TWENTY — TWO

The Great Crag Droaam Eyre 19, 998 YK

Thorn spread her tools out on the bed. If everything went as planned, she'd be leaving the Great Crag tonight in the company of Harryn Stormblade. She had to take everything she'd need with her, but she wanted to leave enough behind for her disappearance to seem truly mysterious. As they'd been warned many times, the Great Crag was a dangerous place. Thorn wanted her hosts to believe that she'd wandered off the path and fallen prey to one of the lurking threats. So she was leaving behind a locket with images of someone's family, and a diary chronicling recent events in the life of a young diplomat named Nyrielle Tam.

Thorn considered the equipment laid out before her. She was wearing the black and gray uniform of the hunter that she'd stolen the night before. She studied her hands. Her bracers were fully extended, the interlocking plates of blackened mithral unfolded to cover her forearms. Ghyrryn's axe was hidden within her right glove, and the mystical book was in her left. Thorn still wasn't sure what she'd need it for, but until she found Harryn, she couldn't leave it behind.

She wound a coil of lightweight silk rope around her waist. She expected to leave through the latrines, and in all the stories she'd heard of Harryn Stormblade, none had involved descending down sewers; she guessed that he'd need all the help she could provide. Next she fastened her dark cloak over her doublet, brushing her hand across the hidden pockets to make sure everything was in place. Thunderstone, poisons, darts, the bottled spiders and other oddities she needed to work her spells… the basic necessities of life.

Sitting on the bed, Thorn picked up Kalakhesh's notes and studied them again, making sure she memorized the proper path. She'd made Jharl take her to a latrine when they'd passed Sheshka's quarters, not because she needed to use the privy, but so she could identify it-placing it within the context of the goblin's sewer map.

With a little deduction, she'd found a line that led directly into the medusa's private chambers. This luxury was a relatively recent addition to the network, and according to Kalakhesh's notes, it was too small even for a goblin to crawl through.

Luckily for Thorn, he'd provided another solution. She'd found a few glass vials wrapped in the rags in his sack. Between Steel's analysis and the goblin's notes, Thorn concluded that drinking the liquid would transform her into a ghostly, mistlike form-allowing her to pass through the pipes as if she were pure gas. The effect wouldn't last for long, but it would be enough to reach the medusa's lair. This was powerful magic, and it was a lucky find for Thorn. Kalakhesh had been saving these supplies for a desperate situation. But Thorn couldn't imagine a greater need… and she wouldn't have to justify using the potion to some goblin quartermaster.

Thorn picked up Steel. "So, faithful advisor. You told me before that you could offer protection against the gaze of a medusa. What's the secret?"

You'll need your masking bag, Steel said.

"This doesn't sound like the magical solution I was hoping for," Thorn said. She reached into a pocket of her cloak and produced a black silk bag. The hood was used to restrain prisoners; it was placed over the head and then secured with drawstrings, preventing the captive from observing his surroundings.

Steel's next words confirmed her fears. When you have subdued Sheshka, you can use the masking bag to eliminate the threat of her gaze.

"Yes… but I was hoping for something that would protect me from medusas and basilisks while I was subduing her."

Steel's voice was a calm metal whisper. For the first stage of the mission, you will wear the masking bag yourself.

"Because…"

If you cannot meet the medusa's gaze, her power cannot affect you.

Thorn laughed. She couldn't help it. All the tension that had been building over the last day burst out of her. The sight of the basilisk chewing on a fleshy finger, the tension with Drego, the disturbing encounter with Sora Katra… for a moment, she let it all float away.

Eventually, the stream of mirth slowed to a trickle and stopped completely. "So," she said. "What's the plan?"

For the first stage of the mission you will wear the masking bag yourself.

Thorn had taken Steel's calm statement to be part of the joke; it was the voice of the straight man telling the perfect punch line. But it wasn't as funny the second time, especially when Steel still didn't see any humor in it.

"But won't that make me blind?" she said. Perhaps she was missing something.

Of course. That is the purpose of the bag.

"Set aside fighting here-how am I supposed to find Sheshka if I'm blind?"

She felt a faint buzz in the back of her mind… Steel's sigh. How have you found your way through the tunnels of the Crag when there have been no lights?

"My ring allows me to see through darkness." Thorn couldn't see the connection.

And how did you locate Drego Sarhain when he was following you in the Duurwood?

"I… don't know."

Try.

"I heard him moving," Thorn said. "I felt his presence. I felt the motion in the air."

Place the masking bag over your head.

Thorn sighed. Trust the advisor, I suppose. She pulled the black cloth over her face and the world fell into darkness.

Now throw me into the corner of the room, Steel said. Then get up and find me.

"How-"

Do it.

Fine. Thorn was happy to throw the dagger away. She heard it clatter against the stone and hoped that the sound wouldn't wake Beren. Part of her was tempted to leave the dagger on the floor, to forget this mad mission and go to sleep. But the shards still burned in her back, and she remembered the voice of her father. Why do you go to war? she'd asked him. What makes it worth the risk? His words had been the light that had brought her down this path; she wouldn't let him down.

She stood up, spreading her fingers and holding her hands out low at her sides. The layout of the room was strong in her mind; it was barely large enough to hold the bed, with little floor space to speak of. She knew how she'd thrown Steel, the trajectory and the force she'd used. It wasn't hard to calculate where he should be… and when she bent down, she found the dagger exactly where she'd guessed.

"Memory won't help me in a room I don't know."

It's not your memory, Steel replied. Your memory wouldn't have found the invisible sorcerer in the Duurwood. The ring doesn't just sharpen your eyesight. It provides a tighter focus for all of your senses.

It seemed impossible, but she had been able to sense Drego's presence in the woods. And earlier that day, she'd known exactly where Sheshka was from the sound of her serpents. "Vague impressions aren't a substitute for my eyes."

It can be more. You've only touched a fraction of this ability. You need to let your instincts guide you. Scent, sound, the pressure of air on your skin-let these paint a picture of your surroundings. Stop trying to see, and allow yourself to feel.

"And how do I do that, exactly?" Thorn turned in place. Stop trying to see. She opened her eyes. She'd been holding them closed behind the hood, and that alone was a distraction. With her eyes open, there was still nothing around her but darkness. She turned around. The room's too small, she thought. How can I not know what's inside it?

Thorn spun around, faster and faster, until she felt the touch of vertigo. She stopped moving, trying not to stumble; she didn't want to touch any surface. She'd play Steel's game until she could show that it was madness.

But it wasn't.

As the dizziness faded, she knew where the door was. She could feel the faint flow of air around the frame, and the scent of the latrine across the hall painted a clear outline. As she moved forward, she could feel the wall ahead of her. It was hard to take hold of any one sense, to seize on the sensations and analyze them. But if she just acted, her instincts told her what was nearby. It wasn't a new sensation; in the Duurwood, she'd scoffed at Drego's flawed invisibility, thinking how his noisy footsteps gave his presence away. Now she realized that Drego wasn't an amateur; she hadn't known the power she possessed.

Anger flared inside her. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" She'd been given the ring just before she was sent to Far Passage. If she'd known about it then…

The ability to see in darkness is a simple thing. There's nothing simple about this. Your mind needed time to adjust to it, for it to become instinct before you tried to force it.

"I would have liked to know about it before my staring contest with the basilisk."

Steel didn't apologize. Beren and Sheshka will remember your fear. Should Sheshka survive, that will be important. Furthermore, as useful as this gift can be, it has many limitations.

Thorn could see the truth in this. She could feel the presence of the door and the bed. She'd known the location of the invisible man, and that might help her fight a medusa. But the details were limited. She might be able to feel the presence of a shelf of books, but she'd never be able to tell one book from the next. And Drego had been nearby when she'd noticed him. This might be enough for close work, but it was no substitute for sight. Still, close work was what lay ahead.

"Very well," Thorn said. Sheathing Steel, she removed the hood and tucked it into her belt. She'd need to see the markings on the walls to find her way to the medusa's chambers. She sorted through her belongings one last time, gathering her remaining tools and tucking the goblin's notes in a pocket. Finally, she produced the vial of dark liquid, unsealed the top, and swallowed it.

Everything seemed to fall away from her. For a moment, Thorn was afraid that she'd lost her clothing and gear. But looking at her hand, she could see the leather glove, mithral bracer over her wrist-and she could see through them. When she moved her arm, there was no muscle tension, no sensation of skin against cloth. With her expanded senses she could feel the slightest shift in the air, but little more.

Rather than trying to walk, she imagined her body flowing toward the door, thinking of herself as a simple gust of wind. She focused on the narrow crack beneath the door, and then she was drifting down, the mist that was her body compressing to pass through the narrow opening. The ogre guard was looking away from her room, and Thorn glided across the hall and into the privy chamber.

Her journey through the sewers was far simpler this time. They were designed to channel gases and odors, and she flowed down through the maze. The only challenge was that she couldn't refer to Kalakhesh's notes; they were made of vapor, and her hand passed through them. She had only her memory to guide her through the foul labyrinth, and she couldn't even brush aside the scum covering the wall markings, or the insects crawling across every surface.

Patience and caution prevailed. It was easy to spot the newer stonework splitting off from the old; the walls were smooth, lacking the layers of scum built up over the centuries. The inscription on the wall was clear; the narrow path ahead would take Thorn to her final destination. She rose up through the narrow passage, through the opening of the latrine itself, and into the chambers of the medusa queen.

She emerged slowly, keeping her eyes tightly closed until she was certain there was no one around her. Opening her eyes, she examined the room. The brass mirror on the wall came as a surprise. It was a common myth that a medusa could be petrified by its own reflected gaze… then again, it would be difficult for a species to survive if they turned one another to statues. It made far more sense for the medusa to be immune to its deadly power. The only other feature of the chamber was a pit filled with fine, dark sand.

Does she bathe in it? Thorn wondered. But she discovered a greater concern-the faintest ripple in the air above the floor around the latrine, a whine just on the edge of hearing. Sheshka had considered the danger posed by the sewers; a mystical ward lay on the surrounding floor. Odds were good that the field rose from floor to ceiling, and even in her gaseous state, Thorn was likely to set it off.

I can't work like this, she thought. Thorn imagined a great weight spreading over her, lead flowing across her body. It was a trigger, a way to break the enchantment of the potion. As she contemplated the idea, vapor returned to flesh and blood. Her feet were set on either side of the latrine, and she struggled to maintain her balance in the wake of the disorienting sensations. Within a moment, the vertigo passed.

Kneeling carefully on the edge of the privy, Thorn studied the floor, watching for the shiver in the air that indicated the presence of magic. Steel could analyze the ward, but she didn't need the dagger for this; she'd learned to deal with mystical countermeasures long before she'd been told to work with Steel, and she enjoyed solving the puzzle. She reached into a pocket and produced a pinch of silvery powder. She tossed it into the air, mouthing three syllables as it fell. The silver immediately vaporized, and she studied the eddies of the vanishing mist.

An alarm, she thought. The mystic field wouldn't harm the person who touched it; they wouldn't even notice it. But it sent a magical warning to the person it was attuned to-likely Sheshka herself. If she were sleeping, it would certainly rouse her.

Let's do something about that, she thought. Thorn ran her fingers along the hem of her cloak, pulling on a stud and producing a length of mithral wire. Next she found a tiny vial-nightwater, fluid charged with the energies of Mabar, which had a dampening effect on many forms of magic. She considered the whirling mists she'd seen a moment ago; there were tiny gaps in the ward, and she needed to pass the probe through one of those openings. In the corner of the room above her, a tiny gray spider spun a web as Thorn extended her wire through the invisible wall of magic. Many breaths later, it touched the floor. Thorn's eyes were locked on the probe, but there was no spark or shimmer in the air around it; she'd been successful. Breaking the seal of the vial with her teeth, she let the nightwater flow down the wire, pooling on the floor. She saw a ripple… and then the air was still.

Thorn released her captive breath, returning the probe to her cloak. Only one more thing to do.

I hope you're right about this, Steel.

She took the masking bag out of its pouch and pulled the hood down over her face. Pulling on the strings, she tightened it around her throat; it wouldn't do to have it pulled free.

She felt as though she knew what was around her… but until a moment ago, she'd been able to see it, and it was still clear in her memory. She stepped down from the privy and removed Steel from his sheath.

I know you cannot see details, he whispered in her mind. If you need information, rub your thumb along my hilt in a circular pattern.

She tapped the hilt once and crept toward the doorway. The door was slightly ajar, and as Thorn leaned against the wall next to the opening, she found that she could feel what lay beyond. She could sense the width of the hallway, the height of the ceiling, and the presence of a familiar smell… Sheshka, a musky odor she now recognized from their earlier meeting.

She slid through the gap without touching the doorway. The short passage held two archways, both open. One led to a larger chamber; Thorn couldn't clearly sense what lay beyond the doorway, but the feeling of space suggested that it was the main room of the suite. The room to her right was smaller, more likely a bedroom. But she shivered as she sensed a shape in the doorway, blocking the passage. This was no wolfhound. It was easily as large as a pony, and it could barely fit through the arch. Another distinctive smell struck her nostrils, and Thorn knew what she was facing even as Steel confirmed it.

Basilisk, he said.