It didn't matter. "No," he said at least, looking up to meet Senya's fiery eyes again. "I will not give up my life to pay for the death of an assassin, and not even the accidental death of your daughter. I regret her death, but my destiny lies beyond this place."
"What makes you think you're so damned important, Gaven?" Bordan thrust his face into Gaven's. "You think you're more important than the people you've killed? Is your life worth more than theirs?"
Senya's ancestor watched him as if she expected an answer to Bordan's question, and Gaven wondered if she had dredged up these memories. Was this some kind of trial?
He had answered Bordan with belligerence, and while he argued, the dwarves with Bordan had captured Rienne. He closed his eyes, briefly entertaining the notion of fighting his way out of this temple, even if it meant more elven blood on his hands…
A crack of thunder shook the building. For a moment Gaven thought it was an echo of his violent thoughts, then he remembered-Aunn had gone to retrieve the dragonshard that held his Mark of Storm. Where was he?
"The time has come for you to make your choice," Senya's ancestor said.
Gaven stood up and turned to look at the open doorway. He heard no sound of a struggle, no shouts of alarm. He wondered if Aunn were dead, and the thought filled him with sadness.
Is that all? he thought. How can I be so calm?
He felt the ancestor's presence behind him, and she seemed no longer contained within Senya's slender form. Her presence was larger, somehow-larger than the frightening deathless form he'd seen in Shae Mordai. It was as though she were just one of a host of elders assembled at his back, like a great tribunal seated for his judgment, or perhaps a council gathered to advise him.
He closed his eyes. From far away, it seemed, he heard Aunn shouting his name, and he knew the dragonshard was gone, and with it the dragonmark Kelas had stolen from him at the Dragon Forge. The choice that lay before him now was simple and yet utterly profound: To pursue whoever had taken the shard, or to relinquish the shard, the Mark of Storm, and the power contained in them.
"Gaven, Storm Dragon, dishonored child of Lyrandar." It was a chorus of voices behind him now. "What do you choose?"
Storm Dragon, Gaven thought. Can I be the Storm Dragon without the Mark of Storm?
He turned back to face Senya. Her head lolled back slightly, as though the ancestor's hold on her body were slipping.
This is what that power has brought me, he thought. It's beyond my control. It's no longer a tool in my hands, but the other way around.
"Let it go," he said softly.
Senya's dead face smiled. "She is pleased, Gaven," the ancestor whispered, "and she wants you to know she forgives you."
Tears sprang to Gaven's eyes. "I'm so sorry."
"Let him go," Senya's ancestor proclaimed, and the flames in her eyes faded as she slumped into Gaven's arms.
CHAPTER 34
Why don't you tell me what this is all about?" Ashara said. The Sentinel Marshal grabbed a chair from a nearby table and swung it around, sitting across from Harkin but focusing her attention on Ashara. Cart glanced at the dwarf, who was still glaring at him.
"I've heard reports that House Cannith recently undertook a significant construction project in the south of Aundair, between Arcanix and the Blackcaps. The Arcane Congress might have been involved, in fact."
Cart turned his gaze to Harkin, wondering again whether he knew anything about the Dragon Forge. Cart couldn't read his face, but it was clear from the way he leaned forward slightly that he was interested in what Mauren was saying.
"I might have heard something about that project," Ashara said. "What of it? House Cannith has a hundred construction projects going on at any given moment. That's what we do."
"Indeed," Mauren said wryly. "Give a House the Mark of Making, and watch them make. Well, my House has the Mark of Sentinel, so you should not be surprised that we keep watch. And our observation suggests that you know more of this project than you admit."
"Again, what of it?"
"What were you building there?"
"Forgive me, Sentinel Marshal, but you must also understand that our House must often keep its operations confidential. Perhaps if you discuss this matter with our baron, she can decide whether your need for this information outweighs our need to protect our secrets."
Ossa snorted. "Not likely, I'd bet."
"To put it a bit more delicately," Mauren said with a smile, "if your baron is engaging in activities that defy the Treaty of Thronehold, she's not likely to tell me."
So that's it, Cart thought. She thinks the Dragon Forge was creating more warforged.
The Treaty of Thronehold had brought an official end to the Last War, but it also included a number of provisions relating to the legal status of the warforged in Khorvaire. By the terms of the treaty, warforged already in existence were free-some nations had held them as slaves during the war-but House Cannith was prohibited from creating any new warforged. Given enough time, the warforged race would die out.
Except, Cart thought, that rumors suggested Merrix d'Cannith might be making new warforged somewhere in Breland.
"In case you hadn't noticed," Ashara said, "the Treaty of Thronehold isn't holding up so well these days. I hear Breland has sent troops into the Reaches to make sure Aundair doesn't overstep its bounds."
"Indeed," Mauren said. "And Queen Aurala and King Boranel of Breland will have to answer for their actions. But my concern is with Jorlanna."
"She's broken the Korth Edicts," Cart said, "but you can't do anything about that. Too many of the Houses are stretching the provisions of the Edicts already."
"To say the least," Mauren said. "I wouldn't say there's nothing we can do, though. It's the goal of my House to bring all the other Houses back into full compliance with the Edicts."
Cart nodded. "So now you're looking for a different crime you can blame her for, something that will turn popular opinion against her."
"And the opinion of the other Houses," Ashara added.
"What we're looking for," Ossa growled, "is an answer to the question. What's Jorlanna up to in the Blackcaps?"
"You know Jorlanna won't incriminate herself," Ashara said. "So what makes you think I would tell you anything-if we were in violation of the treaty?"
Mauren smiled. "Didn't I hear that you weren't exactly in the baron's good graces?"
"True enough."
"Well, it's simple, really. If you-either of you"-Mauren acknowledged Harkin for the first time-"can provide me with useful information about the baron's activities, I can ensure that you're rewarded for your cooperation."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sentinel Marshal," Ashara said, "but our project in the Blackcaps had nothing to do with the creation of warforged, nor did it violate any other provision of the Treaty of Thronehold."
Cart wasn't sure that was entirely true, since the Dragon Forge had been used to launch an attack on a sovereign nation recognized by the treaty. But he wasn't about to contradict her.
"You speak of it in the past tense," Ossa observed.
"Yes," Ashara said. "The project was not successful, and it now lies in ruin. Jorlanna holds me responsible for the failure, and thus she has cast me out of the family."
"In ruin?" the dwarf asked. "A catastrophic failure, then."
"Thank you for rubbing it in."
What's the dwarf getting at? Cart wondered. Why is she even here?
Mauren rubbed her chin. "So there's no evidence left."
"There was never any evidence you could use against Jorlanna," Ashara said. "I told you, it was nothing more than a failed experiment."