Free Drawn Blades by Kelly McCullough Page B

begun.”
    I found myself blinking at that. “I am . . . surprised. Is the conversation a goal in itself? Or, did you have a specific thing you wished to discuss with me? In either case, if we’re going to continue to talk, it would be nice to have a name for you. Can I offer you tea or . . . anything? You’re welcome to join me by the fire.”
    The face smiled again, and this time I thought it might be genuine. “Let us begin with names. You may call me Thuroq, which is as close a rendition of mine as your speech apparatus will allow. I
do
have a specific thing I have been directed to speak with you about. And, thank you, but no. I will remain within stone while I converse with you. Your companion killed many of my people during the unpleasantness that first brought you into our awareness. I would prefer not to give her the opportunity to add my name to her ledger.”
    Faran’s voice spoke out of the darkness. “You think that rock wall would protect you? I’m holding a blade of the goddess in my hand. I could drive it through your forehead before you so much as blinked.”
    I glanced over at my sheaths and saw that Faran had indeed managed to lift one of my blades practically out of my lap without my noticing. “That’s not going to be necessary, Faran. Please put the sword back.” I turned my eyes back to Thuroq, desperately glad that Faran hadn’t decided to try anything hasty. “Pardon my apprentice. She’s had bad experiences with the Durkoth in the past.”
    That was putting it mildly. In her former role as a spy Faran had stolen the Kothmerk, a signet that held enormous cultural value for the Durkoth and Kodamians both. The incident had nearly started a three-way war and a lot of people had died, both human and Durkoth. Many of the latter had fallen at Faran’s hand.
    “It is of no matter,” replied Thuroq. “I am not in any danger, nor have I been while we talked.” The forehead of the stone face parted, exposing only more stone. “I am deep within the rock, too deep even for your divine blade to touch. A good decision, I think.”
    “And the face?” I asked.
    “Mine, but not. Sister stone acts as both my mirror and my voice.”
    Faran stepped out of shadow and returned my sword to me before crossing to look at the stone face from much closer. “That’s an interesting piece of magic.”
    Thuroq’s lips thinned ever so slightly. “It is
not
magic. The stone and I are children of the same mother. She shapes herself to my will out of love, nothing more.”
    “Of course,” said Faran, her tone broadly sarcastic. “Nothing magic or coercive about it.”
    “Faran.” I shot her a quelling look when what I really wanted was to shake her. “Don’t.” She knew as well as I did that the Durkoth absolutely hated having their command over stone compared to human magic—it was tied up with their religion and the Others’ ancient war with the gods.
    She winked at me, then slipped back into shadow before I could say anything more, effectively removing herself both from sight and the conversation. I turned back to Thuroq.
    “I do apologize again. You were about to tell me why you’re here, I believe. Something about having been directed to speak with me . . .”
    “By the King of the North, yes. I am here because of the ring.”
    I had a brief nightmarish flashback to the mess with the Kothmerk, but then realized I might have leaped to the wrong conclusion.
    “Wait, do you mean this one?” I raised the hand bearing the smoke ring.
    Thuroq nodded ever so slightly, his expression going grim.
    “What about it?” I asked.
    “It is a wedding ring.”
    “Yes, I was aware of that. Why does that matter to you?”
    “We have felt it calling through the earth each time you sit beside a fire, smoke singing underground, a link to the south and our buried past.”
    Triss gave a little shiver in my shadow at that. Though he remained silent, I could sense his concern and shared it. There was