The Broken Blade (Dark Sun: Chronicles of Athas 3)

As the crowd on the dock surged around the gangplank, anxious to hear firsthand reports of the battle, the mate jumped off the stern and landed lightly on the dock. Ryana followed, then Sorak, and they quickly made their way around the outer fringes of the crowd and down a narrow side street of the village.

It occurred to Sorak that he and Ryana were forever either sneaking out of a town or sneaking into one. This time, however, a welcome awaited them and there was no one on their trail. It made for a refreshing change. It would be nice if things remained that way for a while.

Perhaps that was too much to hope for.

Chapter Four

The ferry captain’s home was much larger than they had expected. It was a two-thousand-square-foot adobe house built around an atrium, with a walled courtyard entrance. It had been constructed to human rather than dwarven scale, as were most buildings in the central part of the village. The floors were flagstoned with attractive, pale pink slate, and throughout the house, the doors were made of beautifully figured, hand-carved pagafa wood. Inside, everything was neatly arranged. Most dwarves liked order, and the ferry captain was no exception. His home was elegant, yet simple, with well-made, functional wood furniture and few decorations save for some house plants and some exquisite black-fired dwarven pottery. He was unmarried but had two servants, an elderly dwarven couple who kept his house and cooked for him. His job was hazardous, but judging by the way he lived, his pay reflected that accordingly.

Sorak luxuriated in a heated bath while his clothes were taken to be cleaned. As he washed, Ryana relaxed by the fireplace and enjoyed some herbal tea and fresh-baked biscuits with kank honey. Soon afterward, the ferry captain arrived, bringing Sorak a change of clothing, which he had borrowed from one of the mercenaries.

“I think these should fit you,” he said, laying them out while Sorak bathed. “Your own clothes should be clean and dry by tomorrow morning.”

“That was considerate of you, Captain,” Sorak said. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing. And please, call me Tajik.” He sat on a wooden chair while Sorak bathed. “You will pardon my curiosity, but I can see you are not a full-blooded elf. Yet, you look different from most half-elves I have seen.”

“My father was a halfling,” Sorak said. “Half-elves are part human. I am an elfling.”

Tajik’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed? I had heard something of the sort, but thought it merely a fanciful embellishment.”

“Embellishment?”

“Of the song,” said Tajik. “The Ballad of the Nomad.”

Sorak rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It hardly seems possible it could have spread so quickly,” he said.

Tajik chuckled. “Bards travel widely and steal each other’s songs as readily as they compose new ones. Tell me, is it true you single-handedly saved a caravan from a host of marauders?”

“Nothing quite so spectacular, I fear,” said Sorak with a wry grimace. “I merely learned of a marauder plan to ambush a caravan from Tyr and passed on a warning to the merchant house.”

“I see. And what of the tale of your crossing the Stony Barrens and rescuing a princess of the royal house of Nibenay?”

“That one is true,” admitted Sorak.

“Really? Then the Shadow King is in your debt?”

“Hardly,” Sorak said. “The princess in question had taken preserver vows and been exiled as a result. An ambitious nobleman from Gulg had seized her and planned to force her into marriage so he could lay claim to kinship to the royal house of Nibenay. The girl asked for my help, and as a fellow preserver, I could not refuse.”

“And so you stole her from the nobleman and fled across the Barrens?” Tajik asked.

Sorak nodded.

“Incredible,” said Tajik. “They say no one has ever tried to cross the Barrens and survived.”

“It was not an experience I would care to repeat,” said Sorak.

“And what of the nobleman?”

“He died,” said Sorak simply.

“And the princess? What became of her?”

“She returned to Nibenay and joined the Veiled Alliance.”

“So that part of the story is true, then,” said Tajik. “I would never have believed it. A daughter of the Shadow King enlisted in the Veiled Alliance!” He shook his head in amazement. “That must have made the old dragon king absolutely furious.”

“He does not hold me in very high regard.”