Free Son of Khyber: Thorn of Breland by Keith Baker Page A

glimpses of the future, and it was reasonable to assume that they would help their dragonmarked cousins—though likely for a steep price. But Fileon’s attitude still troubled her. He’s too damned calm.
    “I consider this a blessing,” Fileon said, as if reading her thoughts. “I would not have thought you could survive such treachery, yet here you stand. And he, dead at your touch. Fear and unexpected danger can often bring out the full power of a mark. So it seems with you.”
    Except that I don’t actually have a dragonmark, Thorn thought. She still didn’t know what to believe. She’d studied her skin following her talk with Steel, using the mirror to examine every inch of flesh, even peering in her mouth and doing her best to study her scalp. She’d found nothing, not even a scar from Sorghan’s blade. The only things she could find were the false dragonmark across her eye and the two stones along her spine.
    “So you’re not worried?”
    “No. This matter will be settled soon enough. And it shows that you are ready for tonight.” “More tests?”
    “No more tests. And yet no rest, beloved.” Dreck’s mismatched eyes gleamed as he strode into the room. “The night holds bloody challenges for us all. There is work to be done that requires the cover of darkness. Tonight you fight by my side. And should you survive, tomorrow I will take you below.”
    “Below?”
    “To our true stronghold in this city. To meet the Son of Khyber. He will show you where your destiny lies.”
    Thorn drew her two daggers. Fileon had no objection to her keeping Sorghan’s blade, and the air around the chill steel steamed as she spun it in the air. “So what’s the job?”
    “Follow.” Dreck took the Deneith brooch from Fileon and gestured toward the hall. “You both haveparts to play in this piece, but there is another actor on this stage.”

    Dreck led Fileon and Thorn into the dining hall, where a strange figure waited.
    “Brother Brom has come up from the depths to assist us in this task,” Dreck said. “Mighty One, you already know the Shaper of the Young. This is Thorn, the newest blade to emerge from his forge.”
    Brom was a dwarf. At least in part. At a glance, it seemed as though the right arm of an ogre had been grafted onto his shoulder. The palm of the huge limb rested on the floor, and Thorn guessed that the dwarf’s arm must weigh nearly as much as the rest of his body. That wasn’t the only oddity. Brom’s wild hair and beard were a swirl of colors, fiery red blended with black and gold. His left eye was a reptilian yellow, with a brushing of scales around the socket, and when he smiled, he revealed an assortment of teeth that seemed to have been chosen at random—the tiny teeth of a child or halfling set alongside sharklike incisors. He grinned and made an elaborate bow, stretching his long arm before him. “Enchanted, my lady.”
    Fascinating
, Steel said.
It’s established fact that aberrant dragonmarks may cause physical disfigurement, but I’ve never seen anything like this before
.
    “I dislike being kept in the dark, Brother Dreck.” Fileon’s eyes gleamed. “I have done my work and done it well. I would know what our Son of Khyber has planned for my student.”
    “See with your own eyes, Shaper,” Dreck said, his voice soft and musical. “You will serve at her side this evening.”
    Fileon blinked. “What?”
    “The Son of Khyber knows of your talents, Shaper. You guide the young to mastery of their gifts, but your skills have not been forgotten. You have tested beloved Thorn these past few days. Now you will lead her in our struggle.”
    Brom slapped the floor with his massive hand, and Thorn felt the impact across the room. “Let us to work!” he cried, carried away with his own enthusiasm. “I did not come here to talk. I came for blood and battle. What task awaits?”
    Dreck’s face was a mask of steel, and he could not smile. But Thorn could hear the joy in his