Gaven sat with his hands over his face, his elbows on his knees. His mind was filled with memories of a much younger man, still healthy and vibrant and-gruff, often angry, always busy.
“It sounds like it was a peaceful end,” Rienne said.
“Yes, very. I was actually asleep in the chair in his room when he died. We had a healer from House Jorasco here for about a week, I guess. She came in and woke me about dawn, and she observed how slowly he was breathing, and the next time I woke up he wasn’t breathing at all. Very peaceful.”
“Not very like him, is it?” Gaven said. “I would have figured he’d go out fighting, the cantankerous old-”
Rienne squeezed his knee, and he broke off.
Thordren laughed. “I can see what you mean.” He stared at Gaven for a moment. “Anyway, I’ve been handling most of the business, as he grew weaker. Though Aureon knows I couldn’t have done it without father’s guidance, at least not at first.”
“How is business?” Rienne asked. “Are you going to be all right?”
Thordren scoffed. “I’ll be fine. Father was a genius, and I’ve learned a lot from him. I have plenty of money, and shipping contracts enough to keep it that way for the rest of my life. That is, assuming we don’t end up back at war.”
“What?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“We’ve been at sea,” Rienne reminded him.
“Of course. Well, the rumor is that Aundair’s massing troops in Thaliost, or that’s what Thrane says. Aundair denies it, of course, but there’s a great deal of saber-rattling going on.”
“Haldren,” Gaven said, lifting his head from his hands.
Thordren gave him a quizzical look.
“Haldren ir’Brassek. He was in Dreadhold, escaped with me. Damn, he moves fast.”
“Are any other nations getting involved?” Rienne asked, gripping Gaven’s knee tightly again.
“Karrnath and Breland are making lofty proclamations about the importance of the Treaty of Thronehold and preserving the peace after so much tragedy, but otherwise keeping out of it. So far.”
“What about the Eldeen Reaches?” Rienne asked. “They’ve got to be nervous that they’re next on Aundair’s list.”
“As a matter of fact, just today I heard news of a skirmish on the Eldeen border. Some Reacher scouts had crossed into Aundair, presumably looking for signs of a troop buildup, and they tangled with an Aundairian patrol.”
Rienne shook her head. “More bloodshed.”
Gaven stood and walked to the window. Stormhome spread out below him, and the sea sparkled in the afternoon sun. In the distance, looming shadows were all he could see of Aundair.
… vultures wheel where dragons flew, picking the bones of the numberless dead…
Gaven started as though he’d touched fire, and stepped back from the window. He blinked, trying to get the image out of his mind, the sight of a battlefield strewn with corpses, a sky blotted out by the black wings of carrion birds, the earth torn open and violated.
Rienne was beside him, her strong hand between his shoulder blades. “What is it?”
Gaven sat back down, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “It seems that I no longer have to sleep to start dreaming.”
“You’re having visions?” Thordren asked.
Gaven looked up, studying his brother. That question was the first hint he’d given of concern about Gaven’s mental state.
Does he think I’m mad, or possessed? Gaven thought. Has he simply been trying to placate me until help can arrive?
He stood and stalked to the window again, this time searching the streets for a marching force of Sentinel Marshals or some other authority on their way to arrest him.
“Gaven?” Rienne was beside him again, her face full of concern.
“Tell me something, Thordren.” Gaven turned around, leaning back against the windowsill and crossing his arms. “Twenty-six years ago, House Lyrandar excoriated me and the tribunal threw me in Dreadhold. You’ve obviously gotten on with your life, and you’re doing well.”
“I don’t un-” Thordren began, but Gaven cut him off.
“Why did you welcome me back with open arms?”
Thordren looked as though he didn’t understand the question. “Because you’re my brother,” he answered.
“I’m an excoriate. Technically, that means I’m not your brother any more. You have no obligation to me. In fact, you’re prohibited from giving me aid or shelter. You could be arrested just for having me here. Why did you let me into your house?”
Thordren’s bewildered look changed as he gradually made sense of Gaven’s questions. “You don’t trust me,” he said. “You think I’ve already summoned the Sentinel Marshals and I’m just keeping you busy until they get here? Is that it?”
“I’m really hoping to rule out that possibility right now. Tell me why you took me in.”
Rienne held his arm. “Gaven, why-”
“No, Rienne,” Thordren said. “I understand why you’re suspicious, Gaven. If I were in your position, I would be too. Well, I hope I would have the presence of mind to be suspicious. I’m not sure I would.”
“You’re risking everything for me.”
“And you can’t understand why I would do that. But Rienne’s risking everything, too. Do you understand that?”
“Not really,” Gaven admitted, “but it’s harder for me to imagine what she might be hiding.”
Thordren’s eyes were bright with tears again. “Did Dreadhold make you forget what love is?”
Gaven turned back to the window. “My betrothed delivered me to the Sentinel Marshals. My family disowned me, cut me out. Nobody spoke in my defense at my trial. It wasn’t Dreadhold that made me forget.”
Rienne moved behind him and clasped his arm, but she was evidently at a loss for words. He stared blindly out the window, savoring the bitter taste of anger in his mouth. He heard Thordren step away and then settle in a chair. He started to turn back around, but something in the street below caught his eye.
Dwarves. If they hadn’t been in Stormhome, he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but in the home of the half-elf House Lyrandar-a single dwarf might not draw the attention, but half a dozen of them, trying to look inconspicuous, certainly did. When he spotted a scarlet shirt on a dark-skinned dwarf, he was certain.
“You bastard.” Gaven whirled to face his brother. “You almost had me convinced with your little speech about brotherly love.”
“What are you talking about?” Thordren looked genuinely confused.
“Those thrice-damned Kundarak dwarves are on their way,” Gaven said.
Rienne gasped, and stepped to the window. “How many?” she asked.
“I saw five.”
“Gaven, I had nothing to do with this,” Thordren said. “Please, you have to believe me.”
“They’ve probably been watching the house since you escaped,” Rienne said.
“It doesn’t matter any more how they found me. I need to figure out how I’m getting out of here.” Gaven started out of the room, but Rienne grabbed his arm.
“How we’re getting out of here,” she said. “We’re still in this together, Gaven.”
“The airship,” Thordren said.
“You have an airship?” Rienne asked. “Here?”
“Not here. But close. Rienne, you know where the bakery is?” He gestured to the west, and Rienne nodded. “If you turn right at that corner, there’s a mooring tower halfway up the next block. It’s not hard to miss. She’s called the Eye of the Storm. Take her with my blessing.”
Gaven stepped close to his brother and clasped his shoulder. “Thank you, Thordren. I’m sorry I mistrusted you.”
Thordren smiled and nodded. “Hurry,” he said.
“And I’m sorry for this,” Gaven added, punching him hard in the jaw. Thordren spun halfway around before hitting the floor, unconscious. “But things will go much better for you this way,” Gaven added.