Are we going to talk about this?”

Daine caught up with Lei below decks as she entered their cabin. Pierce was standing in a corner of the room reading a book, and he looked up as the two entered. Lakashtai was nowhere to be seen; the kalashtar woman often disappeared during the day, and said that she preferred solitude for her meditations.

“No,” Lei said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Is there a problem?” Pierce said, setting down his book.

“No problem,” Lei responded, glaring at Daine.

“You’re in a good mood, for someone with no problems,” Daine responded. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I said I’d make a music stone for Thaask, and it’s going to be hard to do in time, especially with most of my tools at home. I should have considered the situation more carefully.”

“Creating a magic stone is your idea of a good time. I practically need to pry you out of the basement at swordpoint to get you to have a little fun. The conversation was going fine, and then he said something about your mother, and the next moment you’re running for the hatch. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Who said you had a right to know?”

“Damn it, I’m not trying to interrogate you!” Daine said. “If you don’t want to talk, fine, but if you’re in pain, of course we want to help.”

“Fine.” Lei sat down on the bunk, and all the energy seemed to flow out of her. “What do you know about the history of the warforged?”

“I didn’t ask for a history lesson.”

“You want to know about my family, that’s what you get. Most people think Aaren d’Cannith created the first warforged, and in a sense, he did. He developed the multi-composite construction of the warforged, the blend of wood, stone, metal, and organic material that is still used today.”

Lei was always fond of lecturing, and talking was clearly calming her nerves, so Daine decided not to press the matter. “Organic material? You mean flesh?”

“No, of course not, but wood is actually organic. Pierce, if you would, your arm—see those cords at the joints?”

“I always thought that was leather,” Daine said.

“Leather would likely rot or tear. Aaren derived this material from studying the livewood tree, which remains alive even after it is cut from the ground. These cords are much like tree roots—flexible, tough, even able to respond to magical forms of healing, though not as effectively as flesh and blood. These roots form the bulk of a warforged soldier’s muscles, if you will. The important thing is that the creation forges would actually cause these roots to grow at an accelerated rate, limiting the amount of steel and other materials needed to build a soldier.”

“Great, and what does this have to do with anything?”

“Merrix took the first steps toward the warforged, but his creations lacked true sentience. It was Aaren, his son, who created the first warforged—who adapted the creation forges to breathe true life into metal and wood, but Aaren had no interest in creating soldiers. He wanted to understand the nature of life—to try to fashion a creature with a soul.”

“House Cannith was only interested in war,” Pierce rumbled.

“That’s right. Aaren’s forges were taken from him. The best artificers of the house were set to work, ordered to find a way to duplicate and adapt his creation to produce superior soldiers. My parents were part of this effort. I grew up in a small, hidden forgehold, and I never saw a human child. My parents were always busy, devising new tools for the warforged or new body designs. I spent my childhood with the warforged themselves, discovering the world as they did; but no warforged remained at the hold for long, and my friends would all go off to war. There was a time …”

Her voice shook; she paused, and closed her eyes. Before Daine could move, Pierce reached out and put his hand beneath hers. She smiled wanly and squeezed his hand, then continued.

“There was a time when I envied the warforged, when I wanted to be a warforged. At least they had a purpose. I felt like no one wanted me around.”

“Thaask said your mother wanted a daughter …”

“I know! But that’s not how it felt. She was warmer than my father, it’s true, but she was always busy, and she and my father were always preoccupied with new designs, with the next idea. I guess I began to think of myself as a redundant model. They could always improve the next generation of warforged, but the daughter … they had to live with what they had.”

She took a deep breath. “Things improved when my dragonmark manifested. It appeared when I was nine—years before the normal age. At that point, my training began in earnest. I was sent to Sharn, to the towers of the Twelve, to Cannith enclaves across Khorvaire. I barely saw my parents again after that, and I didn’t give it much thought. At last I had my purpose! I performed much of the usual work of the day, building wands for the battlefield, helping with the warforged. Eventually I caught the eye of Hadran d’Cannith.”

Daine held up a hand. “If you don’t want to talk about him …”

“Why stop now? I never loved Hadran. Never. He was wealthy and powerful, and it was a good match. It was my duty. Really, I never thought twice about it, but then my father interfered. He said that he wouldn’t consent until I’d served four years serving on the battlefield as warforged support.”

“What?” Daine vaguely recalled Lei saying that she never wanted to be a soldier, but he never guessed that her parents would have ordered her into such danger.

“He never asked me. He never explained his reasons. He simply gave his orders, and like a good soldier, I followed them, so I ended up with you.”

“What does this have to do with Thaask?”

Lei looked away, and her voice tightened in her throat. “Just hearing him talk—knowing that there was a time when she wanted a daughter as much as she wanted that better warforged—it just hurts. Knowing that that love was there once—but somehow, I never received it, and now I’ll never see her again.”

Daine didn’t know what to say, so he just put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She clung to him, and soon tears began to flow. For a moment they just stood there, Pierce watching to the side. Then Lei broke away.

“I’ll be all right,” she said, sniffling and rubbing her nose. “It’s over now, and I need to start work on that stone.”

“All right. I’ll leave you to it, but if you need anything …”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Daine looked at Pierce. “Up for a little combat practice on the deck?”

“As you wish.”

Pierce picked up his flail and followed Daine out of the cabin leaving Lei alone with her thoughts. She took her tools out of her backpack and found a focus stone that would serve for the job, but the image of her parents hung in her mind. Not the memories of a lonely child, trapped in a world of war and steel, instead she was haunted by the memory of a dream, lying on a slab next to Pierce while her parents discussed her progress. Perhaps it was just a manifestation of her insecurities—a fear that she was nothing more than another experiment, a failure to be cast aside? Somehow she felt that there was more to it, and it frightened her.

She rubbed the back of her neck, passing her fingers across her dragonmark, and set to work.