Your Cannith lords may be brilliant artificers, but I can’t say much for their taste in architecture,” said Daine, examining the mansion. Built from black granite with walls carved to resemble a dense thicket of trees, Jura’s manor was named Darkhart Woods.

Lei said nothing.

At the gate to the mansion a warforged servant met them and led them inside without a word. Where Hadran’s servant was an imposing, bejeweled figure, this construct was a spindly assembly of wood and leather that seemed on the verge of falling apart. It smelled of mildew, and clicked and clattered with every motion.

Entering the manor was like walking into a swamp. The air was unnaturally warm and moist, and the smell of rotting vegetation filled their nostrils. Glistening ivy covered the walls, and woven rushes were spread in place of carpets. Globes of mystical energy lit the halls, but these were shuttered and the ambience was dark and wet.

“The man likes his plants,” Daine muttered. Why a man would spend good gold to grow weeds inside his house was beyond his understanding.

“Oh, Uncle Jura loves … plants,” Lei said absently. Her thoughts seemed far away.

After leading them through a green maze of hallways, the warforged guide paused at a large pair of double doors and rapped sharply. The doors slowly swung open, propelled by invisible hands. A wall of mist hid the chamber beyond. Daine glanced at Lei, but she just shrugged. More Cannith tricks, he thought.

The warforged turned to them and bowed. “Lord Jura awaits you,” it said, its voice a raspy rustle.

The fog concealed a forest. When Daine stepped through the mist, his boot sank into muddy earth. A dense grove of trees spread out before him. Tendrils of mist drifted across the ground, and he could hear the sounds of insects and the rustle of birds and rodents all around.

“What is this?” he whispered, his dagger already in his hand.

“Don’t worry,” Lei said as she came through the mist behind him. “Uncle Jura?” she called, peering into the woods.

“Over here, girl.” The deep voice came from somewhere in the center of the grove. “Just follow the path. I’ll give you more light.”

With that, the sun came up—at least, the sky brightened to the color of full daylight. Studying the sky, Daine spotted a stone seam. They were standing in a vast chamber. The high domed ceiling was painted with a perfect illusion of a cloudy sky. Still, the mud seemed real enough.

Jode whistled. “Now, I’ve seen some fine shadow-work in my time, but this … do you know how much he must have spent just on the moisture? Do you think he can make it rain in here?”

Lei dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Hush. And don’t mention the trees. I’ll explain later.” She led the way down a wide, muddy path, and they passed beneath the canopy of the trees. After a few twists they came to a large clearing.

Jura Darkhart was waiting for them. He shared Lei’s coloring—pale skin and red hair—but otherwise the two couldn’t have been more different. Daine had seen corpses that looked healthier than Jura. The excoriate lord was little more than a skeleton, with leathery skin stretched across protruding bones. His fine velvet clothing hung from his emaciated frame, and what little hair he had was concentrated in a scraggly beard. Jura sat crosslegged on an enormous wooden throne carved from the stump of a fallen dark wood tree. He had a small knife in one hand and a long darkwood staff laid across his legs, and he was whittling figures on the surface of the staff. He did not look up to acknowledge his guests.

“Greetings, Lord Jura!” Jode called out before Lei could speak. “Thank you for allowing us into your home. What a fantastic throne you have. Truly, I’ve never seen its equal.”

Lei gritted her teeth, but held her tongue.

Jura looked up from his work and studied the halfling carefully, his gaze lingering on Jode’s dragonmark. “It cost me dearly, Jorasco. It meant a great deal to my wife, rest her soul.” His voice was deep, but cold and emotionless.

“Did something happen to your wife, my lord? Allow me to extend my most sincere condolences. If we can—”

“Enough,” Jura said, and his cold gaze was enough to silence even Jode. He looked at Lei and ran one hand along his dark staff. “I trust you had good reason to disturb me, girl.”

“I … wanted to see how you were, Uncle.” The air was warm and full of moisture, and Daine could see sweat on her brow.

“Don’t insult me. I know why you’re here. You want to know about Hadran and why you’re not welcome at the family door anymore. And who better to talk to than old Jura, the last dog chased from the house?”

As he talked, Lei seemed to regain a little of her usual fire. “Spare me your self-pity, uncle, I’ve got troubles enough of my own. At least you have your own private palace to sulk in.”

Jura chuckled, a horrible, rasping sound. “At least you still have spirit, girl. Very well. Ask your questions.”

“Why won’t Hadran see me?”

“Because he died a week ago.”

Lei gaped at him, shocked to silence.

“I understand he was torn to pieces. The work of a wild beast, perhaps—or a shifter of exceptional strength. Or a well-crafted homunculus, of course.”

Daine stepped up. “What are you saying? They can’t blame Lei for this?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jura said. “Even if she had been in Sharn, no one thinks she has the talent to build a homunculus with such power.”

“Then why?” Lei trembled with rage. “Why am I outcast?”

“Lower your voice, girl,” Jura said. “We may both be outcasts in the eyes of our house, but I am lord of this manor and I expect you to show proper respect.”

For a moment Daine thought that Lei was going to attack the old man, then she stepped back and looked down at the ground. “Why have I been cast out of our house, Lord Jura?”

“The last year has brought many changes to House Cannith, girl,” Jura replied. “The high council of the house was destroyed along with Cyre, and over the last month the barons have been fighting to establish a new order. Baron Merrix of Sharn is now the ultimate power in the south, and he personally ordered your excoriation.”

“I’ve never even met Merrix! I’ve only been in Sharn once before. What have I done?”

“The council may be dissolved, but Merrix would still need to justify his action to the surviving elders. You know the possibilities as well as I do. Treason, conduct bringing shame upon the house, and of course, miscegenation.” He cast a speculative glance at Jode. “You really don’t know?”

“No!” said Lei. “I’ve done nothing to warrant this!”

“Then perhaps it’s all a mistake.”

“Will you speak for me, uncle? Plead my case to the baron?”

“Talk sense, girl! I am as much an outcast as you are. I may have made contacts in the house over the years, but the baron would never speak to me, let alone listen to my words. And even if I could get an audience, I wouldn’t waste what good will I have built up on you. I have my own interests to look after. Now that my wife is gone, I hope to return to the house myself. Merrix needs powerful supporters, and gold I have to spare.”

Jode jumped in again. “I see! So while you cannot speak on behalf of the Lady Lei, you summoned us here to provide material assistance, yes?”

“You amuse me, halfling. No, I have no intention of wasting my coin on such a useless investment.”

“Then if I may ask, my lord, why did you grant us this audience at all?”

Jura smiled. “I have been an exile for many years, Jorasco. Perhaps it amused me to see someone in a worse position than my own.”

Daine’s hand tightened on the hilt of his dagger, and even Jode seemed close to anger. Lei put her hands on their shoulders, holding them back. “Then I believe our business here is concluded, uncle.”

“Not entirely,” Jura said, rising to his feet. “In truth, I agreed to see you at the request of an old … associate, who wanted me to set up a meeting on her behalf. If you want to speak with her, go to the broken church in Malleon’s Gate. Tell the keeper that you’re looking for the wind. And when she arrives, you’ll need to give her this.” He tossed the dark staff to Lei, who winced as if it burned her hands.

“Who—?” Daine began.

“I have said all I intend to say,” Jura snapped. “Now leave my house. Darkhart Woods is no place for unwelcome guests.”

Daine turned to ask Lei’s opinion, but she was already halfway down the path to the gate.

Night was falling as they made their way back to Dassi’s inn. Pierce led the way through the streets, his eyes ever watching for trouble. Jode tagged behind, lost in his own thoughts. Lei, walking next to Daine, held the dark staff as if it was covered with poison spines, and her expression was grim.

“Time to explain, Lei.” said Daine, scowling. “You didn’t tell us that Uncle Jura was another outcast. What did he do to get thrown out of Cannith? What are you afraid of?”

“Jura … always loved plants. He traveled to the jungles of Aerenal, the Eldeen Reaches, the forests of Karrnath. He met his wife in Aerenal.”

“So? Don’t tell me that expelled him for marrying an elf?”

“Actually, she was a dryad. He had her relocated to Sharn. As if the miscegenation wasn’t trouble enough, after the wedding his behavior became … questionable. His parties were infamous. The stories say that he made most of his current fortune selling poisons and prohibited substances—dreamlily and the like.”

“Because of a dryad? But in all the stories I’ve heard—”

“A darkwood dryad.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. Apparently, in his bid to be restored to the house, he’s claiming that his wife ensorcelled him, that he wasn’t responsible for his behavior. Whether or not that’s true … he’s not the man I knew as a child.”

“Darkwood, hmm?” Daine reflected for a moment. “How did she die?”

“How do dryads ever die?”

Daine reflected on the wooden throne in the indoor grove, carved from the stump of a darkwood tree. He glanced over at the black staff. The top was carved to resemble the head of a beautiful woman, with long tresses running down the shaft. “So … that’s …?”

“Dark heart? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Charming.”

The walked the rest of the way in silence.