Read Online Skein of Shadows by Marsheila Rockwell - Free Book Online

rope outside the door of the Wayfinder Foundation offices in Korran-Thiven. A deeper note sounded from somewhere within the thin minaret attached to the tower that housed Riak’s Fine Imports. The main tower boasted massive darkwood doors and an intricate carved facade of scenes from inner Xen’drik—quite accurate, from what Sabira could see, though she’d only been there once herself. In contrast, the Wayfinder spire was plain and unremarkable, the only thing differentiating it from a thousand other similar pinnacles throughout the district was a small gold-plated placard next to the pull embossed with a simple “W. F.”
    There was no answer for several long moments, and the armed guards in front of Riak’s started giving them unfriendly looks. Of course, in a financial district more obsessed with hoarding wealth than acquiring it, neither the guards nor their demeanor were that unusual. Still, Sabiradidn’t particularly want to have to flash her brooch at them to get them to mind their own business—the fewer people who knew she was here, the better, especially if Greddark decided he needed to dabble in arson again.
    Finally, a middle-aged woman in silvercloth pants and a matching brocaded jacket opened door.
    “You’re late,” she said, looking down her nose disdainfully at Sabira’s glitter-spangled hair. Sabira resisted the urge to brush the sparkling dust off her shoulders and returned the other woman’s irate look with one of her own. After all,
she
wasn’t the one who’d taken a quarter bell to answer the door. But Sabira had dealt with that aristocratic arrogance more times in her career than she could count, and she knew bringing that fact to the other woman’s attention would be pointless—among the rarified circles of Sharn’s upper city, the truth was always secondary to the balance in your House Kundarak account.
    “And getting later the longer we stand here,” she rejoined pointedly, “so if you’d like to let us by …?”
    The woman harrumphed, but stepped aside and waved them in.
    “Lord ir’Dayne is feeling particularly unwell this evening, so this meeting will be kept short.”
    The meeting would last however long it took to make sure Sabira got what she needed, and if the snooty woman in silver didn’t like it, she’d gag her and chain her to a chair. But Sabira decided to keep that to herself for now, since she needed the other woman to guide her to ir’Dayne. The halfling head of the Wayfinder Foundation was widely rumored to be more than a bit paranoid, and Sabira didn’t doubt the office was full of nasty surprises for unwelcomevisitors.
    Though the small tower was nothing compared to the foundation’s Fairhaven Conclave, it still contained its fair share of oddities and wonders. The short entry hall was filled with Aerenal tapestries, a bookshelf heavy with Dhakaani pottery and trinkets from places as far away as Sarlona and Argonnessen, and various stuffed figures, including the biggest owlbear Sabira had ever seen. A glass case lit by a floating golden everbright globe featured the claws and stinger of a scorrow from Xen’drik, each one easily twice the size of Sabira’s head. The scorrow, a horrible centaurlike hybrid of drow and scorpion, was one of the most feared predators in both Xen’drik’s deserts and her jungles and the foundation had a standing offer for any who were brought in to one of its outposts alive for study. This one, which a placard identified as Menezthadazz, sire of Mendexethazz, hadn’t been that lucky. Then again, considering how the foundation might choose to “study” such a creature, maybe he had.
    As the woman led them up several flights of stairs, Sabira was struck by the office’s air of disuse. While the foundation’s headquarters in Fairhaven was always humming with activity, whether it be visitors to the vast two-story museum, students attending lectures, or adventurers getting ready to leave on or returning from