The Fading Dream by Keith Baker Page B

man, they’re a cowardly bunch indeed.”
    Vron inclined his head. “As you wish, sire.” He turned to Cadrel and Thorn. “I’ve already prepared for the journey; there’s a boat waiting at the Brokenblade dock, ready to take you along the Cyran coast. I’ll need afew hours to gather additional supplies for you, Master Cadrel, and I’m sure you need time to settle your affairs. But I would leave before morning. The sooner we move on this, the better.”
    Cadrel was still considering the whole affair. “You’re sure about this, Your Highness?”
    Oargev nodded.
    A grin slowly spread across the old man’s face. “So be it. I will do my best not to let you down and to return with tales more wondrous that I ever spun in your youth.” He turned to Boranel and bowed. “With your leave, Your Majesty.”
    “Of course, and well said.” Boranel clapped Cadrel on the back and walked toward the door. “Sovereigns and Six! I wish I could be going with you. First things first, though—let’s arrange a proper escort for you this time, both to get back to your consulate and to see Oargev to New Cyre. You’ll have every Shield the Citadel can spare until we have you safely home again.”
    “Very well, Cousin.” The prince paused by Thorn, looking into her eyes. She could see the fear and uncertainty warring within him. “You served me well this last month. I owe you my life. Serve my people in this, and you will have anything my throne can offer.”
    “It’s my honor to serve, Your Highness,” Thorn said with a polite nod. “May the Sovereigns watch over you.”
    “Wait a moment, Lantern Thorn.” Vron took Drix outside.
    Thorn studied the glowing map on the wall and ran her fingers over the stone in her neck. She was just about to talk to Steel when Vron returned.
    “What can I do for you, Lord Commander?”
    “For a start, forget that title.” Vron smiled and as he did, his face softened and flowed. His skin was the same pale white, his eyes still shards of glass. They werejust smaller and sharper. Cheekbones were higher, his chin slightly pointed. He was still a changeling … a different changeling.
    “Zane?”
    “For the moment.” Zane was Thorn’s personal handler; he’d recruited her into the King’s Dark Lanterns.
    “Was Vron ever here?”
    “He was in every way that matters, wasn’t he? There’s a certain level of decorum to a royal briefing, and Oargev surely expected the Lord Commander. But we Lanterns have to deal with more complex situations than the Shields or the Blades. His majesty knows what Vron is doing right now; if my mask keeps Oargev happy, all for the good. Besides, you’re my agent.”
    Thorn nodded. It wasn’t the first time Zane had come to her in an unexpected guise, though she’d never seen the changeling impersonate a changeling before. “So what is it you wanted to tell me?”
    “What do you think of this assignment?”
    Thorn hesitated but she’d never minced words with Zane before. “It seems ridiculous. Do you actually think we can restore the Mournland?”
    “No,” Zane said. “I don’t. It’s an entertaining story, and if it somehow turns out to be true … well, it would be a boon to give the thousands of Cyran refugees living off Brelish taxes somewhere else to go. But I think we both know just how likely that is—just as we know that those stones in your neck aren’t eladrin relics.”
    “So what am I doing?”
    “I don’t believe that these fey are responsible for the Mourning,” Zane said. “Nonetheless, their power is clearly a force to be reckoned with. As far as we can tell, young Drix is essentially immortal. Imagine an army of soldiers possessing such power. Who knows what other secrets are hidden within the walls of that tower?If you can somehow restore Cyre, wonderful. But your primary mission is to acquire as much information about the eladrin as you can, including anything that could provide Breland with an arcane advantage in