“Gray” was a polite way of saying “orcish.” House Tharashk had emerged from the mingling of human refugees with orcs in the western swamps known as the Shadow Marches. Most people associated House Tharashk with orcs and half-orcs, but there were just as many humans in the house as orcs.
“I assure you, we are quite capable of handling the task at hand,” Tolar said.
“No.” A new voice rang through the hall. A man, young and arrogant. “We can handle this task. Your services will not be required.”
“Lord Dantian!” Kestal Haladan made a surprisingly graceful bow considering his girth. “My lord, I was going to bring your guests to the lower hall….”
“No.” Lord Dantian d’Lyrandar was dressed for battle. Four silver lightning bolts adorned a jerkin of oiled leather, and a dark blue cloak flowed across his shoulders. His pale white hair was held back by a narrow circlet of gold, adorned with a writhing kraken. His right hand clenched the gilded hilt of a fine longsword. “I have no intention of granting my hospitality to these… people.”
“Lord Lyrandar,” Tolar replied, “it is not your decision to make.”
Zaehr stepped between the two men before Dantian’s blade was fully drawn. She caught the half-elf’s wrist and showed him her teeth. “Don’t,” she said, and she could see her blood-red eyes reflected in his furious gaze.
“Guards!” cried Haladan.
Zaehr could feel Dantian’s surging emotions in the tension of his wrist, the flicker of his eyes, the shifting scent that rose over the smell of rain. “We were sent for,” she whispered, tightening her grip until he released his sword. “We just want to talk, but if you start a fight…” As Zaehr spoke, her jaws extended, fangs stretching down in a vicious wolf-like snout. “I’ll rip your face off.”
A half-dozen guards had responded to the alarm, and they surrounded Zaehr and Dantian, iron-shod clubs at the ready. Zaehr knew that if she harmed the Lyrandar lord, it probably would be the last thing she did, but she kept her gaze on his, holding the promise of bloodshed in her eyes.
“Well?” she said.
She knew his answer before he spoke, and she let go of his hand even as he opened his mouth.
“Fine,” he said, taking a step back. “I suppose I should indulge Aunt Solia. Haladan, I’ll receive them in the garden.” He turned and walked down the hall, gingerly rubbing his right wrist.
“Very well, my lord.” The servant scowled at Zaehr, his beady eyes dark points in his flabby face. “If you’ll follow me….”
Lord Dantian proved as good as his word. He might have set the guards upon Zaehr the moment he was safely out of reach of her fangs. Although he sought no vengeance for the blow to his pride, Dantian was no fool. A squad of guards remained with Zaehr and Tolar as they traveled deeper into the keep, and these soldiers watched Zaehr’s every movement.
Dantian’s garden was another toy, a chance for the young lord to show off his wealth and power. The circular chamber lay at the center of the tower, but for all appearances it was an open-air park, the ceiling masked by cunning illusion. A paved path wove between dark grass, well-groomed trees, and displays of exotic wildflowers.
It was raining.
Rain in Sharn was a common occurrence. Tolar’s long coat was oiled cloth, and he drew his hood up over his face. Zaehr liked the rain. She had spent her first years around water, and while it was hard to be truly nostalgic for a life in the sewers, she had never minded getting wet.
Still, she guessed that the rain wasn’t intended as a gift, and this seemed to be confirmed when the drizzle faded away just before Lord Dantian returned. The illusory clouds evaporated, leaving blue sky and bright sun—though it did not escape Zaehr’s notice that the sunlight provided no heat.
“I apologize for my brusque behavior.” Dantian had changed his clothes and was wearing blue and black robes in place of his armor. “Baroness Solia has instructed that I assist you within reason, and it is not my place to question my aunt.”
“Don’t you want to know who destroyed your ship?” Zaehr said.
“I do know.” He jabbed a slender finger at Tolar. “You. Your kind.”
“Old men?” Zaehr said. She could still sense Dantian’s rage. It didn’t seem to be an act.
Tolar said nothing.
“Tharashk!” Dantian roared. “You foul graybloods with your druids and your dragons!”
Zaehr glanced at Tolar, nonplussed.
“I assure you, Lord Dantian, we have no idea what you are talking about,” Tolar said. “My own ties to the House are—”
“Don’t try to deny it. I know all about your kind. And yours.” A glare at Zaehr. “Do you think this is the first airship we’ve lost? I’ve done my research. Wretched druids, trying to stop progress. Druids. And who were the first druids? Orcs. And shifters. And who taught the first druids? Dragons. It all comes together, doesn’t it? You’re still working with these hidden dragons. You destroy our ships. And who gets called in to investigate? You do. At least this time your damned dragon was caught in the blast.”
“Lord Dantian,” Tolar said, “while your theories are most intriguing, I have my own paths of inquiry I should like to pursue. And Lady Solia has ordered you to—”
“I know what my aunt requires,” Dantian growled. “Just as I know she’s wasting her time. And mine. So what is it you want?”
“A list of all those aboard Pride of the Storm at the time of the explosion, making note of those who lived and died. As I was unaware of any similar incidents, I should like a list of those as well, along with any organizations or individuals you might have quarreled with recently.”
Dantian glared at Tolar but said nothing.
“I will also need to speak with the surviving elemental heart of the Pride.”
This meant nothing to Zaehr, but it certainly produced a violent reaction from Dantian. “How do you know about that?” he said, clenching his fists. The wind rose, and Zaehr guessed that the brewing storm might be the accidental child of the Lyrandar lord’s fury.
“Anyone can study the most basic principles of elemental binding, Lord Dantian,” Tolar said. “And the second explosion aboard Pride of the Storm was the result of the detonation of the fire heart. There was no similar release of air. Therefore the elemental that empowered the ring of air is still contained. I’m sure such an artifact would be the first thing your salvage teams would recover, and I imagine you’d get a gnome translator to come and transcribe the spirit’s memories of the events. Perhaps the gnome who arrived just before we did? While I’m sure the report will be most informative, I wish to speak to the elemental myself.”
Dantian’s fury had given way to sheer surprise. For a moment he stood in silence. Finally, he grimaced and gave a curt nod.
“And the other information?” Tolar asked.
Dantian glanced at the portly servant. “Haladan will take care of it for you.” He looked back at Tolar. His gaze was hard. “I warn you, grayblood, my aunt will hear of this, and now. If anything happens to the heart, I’ll put you and your dog in the ground.”
“Of course,” Tolar said, unmoved. “Now, if you can show us the way? There’s work to be done.”