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for morale. But you ask Boranel where the brute’s axe is … and then come to my manor and see what hangs above the hearth.”
    Thorn liked Beren, though she doubted that she’d ever be invited to his mansion. A senator and cousin of the king, he’d spent his younger years in battle. Age was beginning to take its toll; streaks of gray snaked through his golden hair, and there were new lines in his face. But he retained strength and pride. He might not be able to fight a dozen gnolls, but he was likely a match for either of his bodyguards.
    Thorn guessed that this was how he’d drawn the assignment. The Crag Summit might be an excellent opportunity for espionage, but the diplomatic goals were equally important. Breland needed someone brave enough to sit across the table from a medusa, and someone smartenough to match wits with Sora Katra herself. Beren might not be a hero of legend, but of all the senators she’d met, he was the best.
    Thorn doubted Beren knew everything about her mission—especially this business with the Stormblade statue—but Zane had told her that Beren would give her a free hand. She might be attached to the delegation as his aide, but Lord ir’Wynarn was a capable man. She suspected that he wouldn’t call on her too often over the course of the summit.
    She considered the guardsmen as they climbed the ladder into the coach. Despite Beren’s jibes, she knew Boranel wouldn’t leave his cousin in the hands of fools. Grenn was a dwarf, and his ease with his armor and the notches on the hilt of his sword spoke of long service. He smiled at Thorn, but if there was any interest in his gaze, it was simple lechery. This man was a soldier, chosen for strength and courage. Thorn was certain he’d lay down his life for his charge without a second thought—provided he saw the enemy coming.
    Toli was cut from different cloth. He was taller than Beren, and his dark skin hinted at Seren Islander blood. Thorn could tell that the guard’s breastplate was uncomfortable for him; she hated inflexible armor herself. The true tell was his eyes. It was subtle; he was a professional. But Thorn could see him studying her, searching for concealed weapons or other threats, just as she’d done with the Aundairians. King’s Shield, she thought. One of the elite bodyguards of the realm, trained to protect the king himself. Good thing, she mused. With a rescue and a kidnapping to plan, I won’t have much time to keep him safe.
    Toli knew his work. He stopped Beren from climbing into the wagon, carefully testing each rung himself. He disappeared into the wagon for a moment, then appeared at the door of the carriage and offered his hand to Beren. “Please enter, my lord.”
    The interior of the wagon confirmed Thorn’s suspicions.
Troop transport
. The weapon racks were empty, as were the hard wooden benches. But the odor remained, and it didn’t take the nose of a gnoll tracker to recognize the scents of oiled steel, sweat, and damp bugbear fur. Bugbears and gnolls were taller than humans, and the benches were too high and wide for comfort.
    As they tried to settle themselves, a gnoll climbed up into the wagon. Unlike his cousins, his fur was black, with a crest of red-orange running from his forehead to the base of his spine. Like most gnolls, he had spotted fur; gray patches mottled the coarse blackness. All together, it gave the impression of a line of flame along his back, with flecks of ash blowing across his body.
    Thorn could see Toli tensing, his hand slipping to the hilt of his sword. The gnoll wore a small, wedge-shaped shield on one arm. The lower end tapered to a narrow point, sharpened on either side, and Thorn could imagine it being used to disembowel a foe at close range. His other hand held a long axe with steel at both ends. One head was a heavy crescent blade. The other was a spearhead, sharpened along the edges. The ugly weapon showed as much wear as Grenn’s sword; Thorn was certain this beast