The Tomb of Horrors Read Online Free PDF Page B

architecture. A high-peaked roof lent the building a sense
of dignity, matched by the elaborately framed windows and exquisitely worked
door. A masterfully painted sign hung above the lintel, proclaiming the name of
the establishment.
    “The Platinum Shield?” he asked. “Who in the hells are we
meeting here, Ger? The Nyrondese Royal Family?”
    When the elf failed to reply, Kaerion stared at him in
disbelief.
    “No,” he said after a few moments, “you didn’t. Phaulkon’s
feathered ass, what have you gotten us into this time?”
    Gerwyth just shook his head and pulled his friend toward the
inn. “Come on, Kaer, just relax. At the very worst you’ll have the chance to get
drunk in the best taproom in the city of Rel Mord.”
    Against his better judgment, Kaerion followed his friend into
the Platinum Shield.
     
    * * *
     
    “They’re late,” Bredeth snapped in an arrogant tone as he
slammed the door to the sumptuously decorated suite.
    Majandra Damar gave a breathy sigh at the intrusion and
stopped running graceful fingers across the strings of her harp, upon which she
had been composing the final themes for a new work. It didn’t matter anymore,
however, as the man’s interruption had already driven the melodic line from her
mind.
    The yew harp cast out its final, plaintive note and the room
descended into silence. Majandra regarded her guest thoughtfully. The noble’s
perfectly sculpted face held a slight red tinge that was deepening even as she
watched, and his gold-flecked eyes flashed dangerously in the dim light of the
room. Even his normally immaculate close-cropped blond hair lay askew, tousled
by wildly gesticulating hands.
    Good, she thought. He’s angry. This should be fun.
    “They are not late, Bredeth. Phathas made arrangements for
them to meet us three Stardays hence, and the last I checked,” she said, looking
out of the stained glass window to her left, “it is still Starday.”
    “I have wandered the streets and the situation is even worse
here than in the other cities,” the noble replied. “My country is
suffering. My people are exhausted. Nyrond is but an echo of the great nation it
was. And we—” he leaned over and stabbed his finger violently down on the table
before him—“who have a plan that can help restore the country to its former
glory, have to wait on the whim of two foreigners who are probably sitting in a
brothel right now laughing at their good fortune.”
    “First off,” retorted the bard, “these are not your people. You are cousin to His Majesty, and a distant one at that. Your head,
however inflated with its own sense of importance, will never, gods’ willing,
wear the crown. And second, Phathas himself chose these ‘foreigners’. If he
believes that they offer us our best chance of success, then I shall not gainsay
him.”
    “Such insolence.” Bredeth nearly spat as he drew closer to
the bard. “If we were in my father’s castle, I would have you beaten and cast
out with the other criminals.”
    “I pray that I never fall so low as to have to ply my skills
for a family of tone-deaf boors who couldn’t appreciate a song if it came from
Olidammara’s own mouth. With any luck, I’ll never find myself near the drafty
wreck of a keep where you were born.”
    Bredeth recoiled as if he had been slapped, and Majandra
wondered if perhaps she had gone too far this time. The young noble drew even
closer to her, his perfect teeth clenched tightly. “You have noble blood in you,
Majandra,” he whispered, “and that has protected you so far. But don’t ever
forget what other blood flows through your veins.”
    At this, the bard’s hand absently pushed aside flowing
strands of red hair to finger the ever-so-slight point of her ear.
    “Some may find you exotic,” Bredeth continued. “Others…”
He tilted his head to the side and shrugged. “Well, let’s just say that not
every noble family regards marital infidelity as a romantic