The Queen of Stone: Thorn of Breland by Keith Baker Read Free Book Online

knew the business of war.
    “Ghyrryn.” The gnoll pounded his chest with the blunt edge of his shield. He spoke slowly, straining to form words in the common tongue around his snout full of sharp teeth. Nonetheless, his voice was clear and deep. “You are in my charge. Breland, this side.” He gestured to his right.
    “Lord Beren will sit where he chooses,” Toli snapped, moving between the nobleman and the gnoll.
    “We’d be happy to have Lord Beren ir’Wynarn on our side of the wagon,” came a voice from the back of the carriage. The speaker had climbed up moments ago, and Thorn hadn’t seen him behind the gnoll.
    Toli looked as surprised as Thorn, and that made her feel a little better. It was the bodyguard’s job to notice such things, after all. She took measure of the newcomer, and liked what she saw. Human, male, late twenties—the picture of a young courtier. His short brown hair was perfectly groomed. His white silk shirt was spotless and bright. Black breeches. Tall boots of oiled leather. A fine black doublet with glittering silver embroidery along the collar and cuffs, woven into patterns of silver flame. His amulet caught her eye: a small silver arrowhead with the image of a flame engraved on the surface.
    “Breland, on the right,” the gnoll growled. “Thrane, left.”
    Toli frowned. Twelve nations, seven wagons. Some of the delegates would be sharing coaches. “Lord Beren. Please sit here, between Grenn and myself.”
    “Oh, I’d planned to speak with Nyri during our trip,” Beren said cheerfully. “I hate to leave a lady without a suitable companion, and Olladra knows the two of you are terribly dull.”
    “I’m certain your aide can take care of herself,” Toli said, with a meaningful glance at Thorn.
    “So Lord Beren
won’t
sit where he chooses?” Thorn asked innocently. She saw the corner of the Thrane’s mouth twitch slightly.
    Toli wasn’t amused. “Lady Tam, I hope that you understand the dangers we face in this place. We will do our best to defend you, but our first priority is to protect Lord Beren. Please let us do that.”
    Beren raised a hand. “Look here, boy—”
    “He’s right, Lord Beren.” Thorn nodded to Toli. “I’m sorry for being rude. But you must listen to your guards.”
    The gnoll was tired of the discussion. “Sit now,” he growled. “Others wait outside. Caravans leave before sun rises.”
    The Brelish took their seats on the hard bench. TheThrane diplomat sat across from Thorn, flashing a brilliant smile at her. The gnoll moved deeper into the wagon, making room for the remaining members of the Thrane delegation. First came a soldier dressed in a lightweight shirt of polished chain mail. Her sword was drawn, and the engraved blade gleamed in the fading moonlight. Thorn guessed that the steel was mixed with silver. The Thrane warrior studied Beren and his guards with obvious distaste, but sheathed her weapon and took a seat alongside her countryman.
    A second soldier helped an elderly elf woman up the ladder into the wagon. The elf wore the habit of a priestess of the Silver Flame, and judging from the pale parchment of her skin and her sunken eyes, she had to be at least four hundred years old—almost as old as the church itself. Apparently, the Thranes weren’t concerned about having a delegate who could defend herself if a brawl broke out—or they trusted that the Silver Flame would protect her. For a moment the priestess met Thorn’s gaze, and looking into the pale eyes of the elf made Thorn think of her mother. Where was she now? What had led her to Khorvaire thirty years ago, and why had she been so quick to leave?
    This was no time to ponder the past. A few more gnolls climbed into the wagon, and they spoke in their own tongue—a strange mix of hoots, whines, and fluting sounds that she never would have expected from creatures with such canine appearance. At long last the black gnoll that had called himself Ghyrryn closed the back