Read Online Sea of Death: Blade of the Flame - Book 3 by Tim Waggoner - Free Book Online Page B

dress—if that was the right word for her garment—was made from the same blue-green bubbles as the sculptures that filled the room, though hers were less translucent, providing only a suggestion of the body they concealed.
    She took Tresslar’s breath away. She was the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and considering how widely he’d traveled during his youth, that was saying something.
    “It may be rude to read people’s minds without permission,” Solus said, “but if I’m not mistaken, it’s equally rude to stare.”
    Tresslar felt his cheeks burn, and he knew he was blushing.
    Hinto ignored the exchange between the artificer and the psiforged. He walked over to one of the displays and rose on his tiptoes, stretching out his hand to touch the nearest sculpture.
    “Please don’t,” the woman behind the counter said. “Those are actual water bubbles harvested from the sea. The spells that keep them intact and in place are quite fragile. A single touch could well disrupt them and destroy the sculpture.”
    With an almost childlike expression of disappointment, the halfling lowered his hand and came back down on the flats of his feet.
    The woman came around from behind the counter, moving with such easy grace that it seemed that she didn’t so much walk as glided toward them.
    “My name is Illyia,” she said. “Are you art lovers? It may be immodest of me, but I daresay my sculptures are among the most unique objects to be found in the Principalities.” Her voice was like the breaking of gentle surf upon a sandy beach.
    A moment of silence passed before Tresslar realized everyone was waiting for him to speak, and when he did, his voice was huskier than usual. “Indeed, though the word I would use is spectacular.”
    Illyia smiled, and a mischievous gleam came into her eyes. “Are you speaking of my bubbles?”
    Tresslar had to force himself to keep from gazing at the way her garment clung to her chest—and wondering if those bubbleswould be “disrupted” by a single touch like those that comprised her sculptures.
“Everything
I see here is spectacular.”
    Hinto rolled his eyes. “You’ve spent too many years on Dreadhold, Tresslar. That line is as stale as decade-old sea rations.”
    Tresslar glared at the halfling, but Illyia continued smiling. “Just because something is … seasoned doesn’t mean it’s no longer good. Often, quite the opposite is true, wouldn’t you say …?”
    “Tresslar. And these are my companions, Hinto and Solus.”
    Illyia nodded briefly to the halfling, but she took her time regarding Solus. “We don’t get many warforged here in Kolbyr, Solus, and I doubt we’ve ever had any quite like you.”
    Solus bowed his head. “I shall take that as a compliment.”
    Illyia’s eyes twinkled. “Good, since that’s how I meant it.” She turned back to Tresslar. “So, you spent time on Dreadhold. You don’t look like a hardened criminal, but then looks can be deceiving, can’t they?”
    Tresslar smiled. “I worked there as an artificer, helping to maintain the facility’s magical wards and defenses.”
    Illyia hmphed. “You must’ve had your work cut out for you, then. The artificers of House Kundarak aren’t exactly known for their attention to detail.”
    The dwarves of House Kundarak were responsible for running Dreadhold, but while most of the prison staff were members of the House, many—like Tresslar—were not.
    “I must admit, I
did
have occasion to double-check their work from time to time,” Tresslar said, trying to sound more modest than he felt. A sudden realization hit him then, and he forgot all about the artificers of Dreadhold. “You’re being nice to us.”
    Illyia laughed. “Why do you find that so surprising?”
    “Up until this point, we haven’t had the warmest of welcomes here in Kolbyr,” Tresslar said.
    Illyia’s merriment ebbed and she grew serious. “I’m afraid you’ve experienced the effects of the curse that