Skein of Shadows by Marsheila Rockwell Page A

answered.
    “Dark Red? But your hair is white.”
    Greddark blinked and Sabira had to stifle a laugh. His hair did look white in the glow from the still.
    “ ‘Dark’ is fine. And you are?”
    “Kupper-Nickel. And as a matter of fact, I do need anartificer’s service—either that, or a carpenter’s.” He lifted up a metal plate on his left arm to reveal sinuous muscles formed of wood. There were several discolored patches where the brown fibers were cracked and flaking.
    Greddark clicked his tongue.
    “Dry rot. Made a trip to the islands recently?”
    “How did you know that?” If the warforged had eyebrows, Sabira was sure they would have shot up in time with the Wayfinder’s surprised tone.
    “It’s caused by a fungus—not something you’d be likely to get doing airship runs to and from the desert. And it requires more moisture to take hold than you’d get here in the city, even with the constant drizzle.” Sabira was so used to the periodic warm rain that she hadn’t paid any attention when it had started again, but this was the dwarf’s first time in Stormreach, so of course he’d noticed. “Could have gotten it spelunking, I suppose, except it looks like the light in your right eye is a little dim, so I’m guessing you haven’t been seeing as well in the dark as you normally do. You’d have noticed the difference if you’d been underground recently.”
    Sabira was impressed. She knew the dwarf was good at what he did—Aggar wouldn’t have sent him along otherwise—but she hadn’t expected him to be quite so observant. She resolved to be a little more careful what she revealed around him from now on.
    The bartender spoke up.
    “So he will lose the arm, then?”
    “
What
?” Kupper-Nickel exclaimed, his voice somehow managing to convey a higher octave than his vocal chords were actually capable of making.
    “No, no,” Greddark hastened to assure him. “It’s true, when found in a building or a ship, a carpenter’s first reaction is usually to hack out the affected wood and graft in new timber, but you’re neither of those things—and
I
am not a carpenter. I’m an artificer, and we do things the right way.”
    He pulled one of the silver charms off his gold armband. It grew in his hand until he held a short length of carved ivory that bore a large sapphire on one end and a diamond on the other. He grinned at Sabira.
    “Whipped this up when Aggar told me we were going into the desert. Didn’t think I’d get a chance to try it out before then.”
    “Try—?” Kupper-Nickel repeated, but Greddark grabbed the warforged’s wrist and jabbed the blue tip of the wand into the diseased wood.
    “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt. Much.” He thumbed a silver switch on the side of the wand and said, “Desiccate!”
    Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, but then she saw the warforged stiffen. She watched as the blue color bled from the sapphire and into the diamond on the other end, like water flowing from one vessel to another. When the once-blue sapphire was as white as the diamond had been, Greddark thumbed the switch again and removed the wand from Kupper-Nickel’s arm. It shrank back down to the size of the other charms, and he replaced it on his bracelet.
    “How’s that feel?”
    The dark spots on the warforged’s arm had lightened to match the color of the rest of the wood. The Wayfinder used his other hand to peel off chunks of dried-out woodlike scabs, revealing normal-looking “muscle” below. He opened and closed his empty hand a few times, and Sabira watched as the wooden sinews flexed in response.
    “Good as new,” the warforged replied, a smile that would never grace his face still infusing his words with pleasure. “But what did you do?”
    “Trick I learned from a ranger I knew once, actually. ‘If it’s dry rot, then dry it’s not.’ It’s simple: Fungi need moisture to survive. Get rid of the water and the fungus dies. I actually figured we’d find the