Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 5 - The Cerulean Storm by Troy Denning Read Free Book Online Page B

in disregard for council rules, but it was also a
     common tactic used to gain control of the wrab. If she could interest the other advisors
     in her topic quickly enough, the creature would leave Cybrian's hand and roost on her
     finger before he could call for a vote of censure and ask her to leave the chamber.
    The sorceress motioned for Rkard to come up and stand with her, then continued, “I think
     my fellow councilors will be more interested in hearing how this boy is going to kill the
     Dragon.”
    The advisors greeted her statement with snorts of derision and even a few guffaws, but her
     tactic worked. As skeptical as they were, the councilors were also curious. The wrab
     quickly left Cybrian's hand and came to Sadira's. The creature weighed almost nothing,
     and, if not for its damp scales tickling her flesh, the sorceress would hardly have
     noticed its presence.
    Cybrian glared at Sadira, but did not object. He had used the same technique too many
     times to cry foul. “By all means, tell us,” he sneered. “I'm certain my fellow advisors
     will appreciate a good jest.”
    The templar's tactic was an effective one, playing on the crowd's skepticism to such an
     extent that the wrab raised its black wings as if to leave Sadira's hand.
    “Perhaps you would waste the council's time on a jest, Cybrian. You've certainly wasted it
     on many things just as trivial,” Sadira said sharply. “But I assure you, I would never do
     such a thing.”
    The wrab folded its wings and pushed its tiny head down into her fist. Seeing that she had
     won the assembly's support, at least for a time, Sadira laid her free hand on Rkard's
     shoulder. The boy stood straight and tall, looking out over the volatile throng with an
     unflinching gaze.
    “This mul boy is the son of Neeva, whom many of you will remember from her days as a
     gladiator, and of Caelum, son to the late
    
    
     uhrnomus
    
    
     of Kled,” Sadira said.
    “Ten days ago, Rkard was visited by a pair of dwarven banshees, Jo'orsh and Sa'ram,” the
     sorceress continued. “Those of you who are familiar with the
    
    
     Book of the Kemalok Kings
    
    
     will recognize the names as those of the last two dwarven knights, who died before they
     could avenge the Dragon's destruction of their city.”
    “And they told the child to do what they could not- kill Borys?” asked Charl, incredulous.
    “Not exactly,” replied Sadira. “They said that he
    
    
     would
    
    
     kill the
    
    
     Dragon.”
    “And who heard them say this?” asked Lady Laaj.
    “I did,” Rkard replied.
    This prompted the noblewoman to give Sadira a patronizing smile. “My dear, since you have
     no children, you may not realize that young boys create make-believe friends,” she said.
     “Why, when my own sons were his age-”
    “He did not make up Jo'orsh and Sa'ram,” Neeva reported. “I also saw the banshees.”
    “And we have another harbinger as well,” Sadira said. She raised her hand, displaying the
     ring on her finger. “Last night, a messenger arrived bearing my husband's signet.”
    “Which husband? Agis, Rikus, or someone we haven't heard about yet?” mocked Cybrian.
     “Maybe that dwarf?”
    The comment drew a few crude laughs from the same pedants who always thought ill of Sadira
     for loving two men, but it failed to shake the crowd's interest enough to dislodge the
     wrab.
    “The signet is Agis's,” Sadira said patiently. “With it came the message that he had found
     the Dark Lens.”
    For the first time that day, the room fell completely quiet. Despite the efforts of Sadira
     and her husbands to keep the nature of the Dark Lens secret, they had spent five years
     searching for it and word of what they were seeking had eventually leaked out. By now,
     most of the advisors knew not only what the lens was, but why Sadira was seeking it. She
     intended to kill Borys, thus ending his practice of collecting a thousand slaves a