Chapter 41
They froze, waiting for the dire news that Ta.s.slehoff had been found and tossed in the lake, or the dungeons, or worse.
"Breakfast," the dwarf announced.
The guard held the door while two more dwarves walked in bearing trays laden with heavy wooden bowls. Caramon sniffed the fragrant aroma and immediately took his seat at the table.
The others exchanged glances, wondering if the guards would notice they were one person short. The guards did not take a head count, however. They unloaded the bowls from the tray and handed them about, laid out two loaves of dark bread, and a couple of pitchers of ale, then departed, shutting the door behind them.
Everyone breathed a sigh.
"Those were different guards," said Tanis. "They're not the same ones who were here when Flint left. They must have changed s.h.i.+fts. Apparently none of them noticed Tas is missing. Let's keep it that way as long as we can."
Sturm sat at the table. Tanis did the same. Caramon was already ladling out the food.
"Smells good," he said hungrily. He picked up a bowl and took it over to his brother. "Here, Raist. It's mushrooms in brown gravy. I think there's onions in there, too."
Raistlin averted his head.
"You need to eat, Raist," said Caramon.
"Put it there," said Raistlin, indicating a table near his chair.
Caramon set the bowl down. Raistlin glanced at it and started to turn away. Then he looked at it more intently.
The meal did smell good. Tanis had not thought he was hungry, but he picked up his spoon. Sturm was praying to Paladine to bless this meal. Caramon, tearing off a hunk of bread, dipped it in the gravy and was bringing it, dripping, to his mouth when the staff of Magius lashed out, struck his hand, and knocked the bread to the floor.
"Don't eat that!' Raistlin gasped. "Any of you!"
He swung the staff again and struck Sturm's bowl, sending it to the floor, and then smashed Tanis's bowl just as he was digging his spoon into it.
Crockery broke. Gravy splattered. Mushrooms went sliding across the table and fell to the floor.
Everyone stared at Raistlin.
"It's poison! Those mushrooms! Deadly poison! Look!" He pointed.
Attracted by the food on the floor, rats had come slinking out of their holes to take their share. One started to lap up the spilled gravy. It took no more than a couple of slurps before its small body quivered, then stiffened. The rat flopped over sideways, its limbs writhing. Froth bubbled on its mouth, and after a moment's agony, it went limp. The other rats either took warning from their comrade's terrible fate, or they didn't like the smell, for they skittered back to their holes.
Caramon went white, and jumping from the table, he made another trip to the slop bucket.
Sturm stared, transfixed, at the dead rat.
Tanis dropped his spoon. His hands were shaking. "How did you know?"
"If you remember, I studied the mushrooms when we pa.s.sed through the forest," said Raistlin. "Some of you thought my interest quite amusing, as I recall. Arman and I were discussing dwarf spirits, which, you know, are made of mushrooms. What I found most interesting is that the mushrooms used to make dwarf spirits are safe to ingest if allowed to ferment but poisonous if eaten either raw or cooked. I'd never come across any other plant or fungi with this characteristic, and I took special note of it. I recognized the dwarf spirit mushrooms in the stew. Whoever tried to kill us a.s.sumed we would not know the difference."
"And we wouldn't have," Tanis admitted. "We are grateful, Raistlin."
"Indeed," Sturm murmured. He was still staring at the dead rat.
"Who tried to kill us, I wonder?" Tanis said.
"Those dwarves who brought the food!" Sturm cried, jumping to his feet. He ran to the door, yanked it open, and darted out. He returned, bringing with him his sword and Caramon's.
"They're gone," he reported, "and so are the guards. At least we can now retrieve our weapons. We'll be ready if they come back."
"Our first concern should be about Flint," said Raistlin sharply. "Has it not occurred to you that if we came seeking the hammer, then others might be seeking it as well, others such as the Dark Queen and her minions?"
"The dragonlance was responsible for driving Takhisis back into the Abyss," Sturm said. "You may be sure she would try to keep them from being forged again."
"They tried to kill us. Flint might already be dead," Tanis said quietly.
"I do not think so. They would wait to kill him until after after he's found the hammer," said Raistlin. he's found the hammer," said Raistlin.
"Perhaps all the dwarves are in league with darkness," Sturm said grimly.
"Once the dark dwarves wors.h.i.+pped Takhisis, or so it is written," Raistlin said, "and if you remember, Tanis, I asked you how the Theiwar knew the refugees were in the forest. You brushed it off at the time, but I think we have to look no farther than the Theiwar thane. What is his name-"
"Realgar. I agree," said Tanis. "Hornfel may not trust us or like us, but he doesn't seem the type to stoop to murder. I don't see how we prove it, or how we catch them."
"Easy," said Caramon, coming back to the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Whoever did this will return to make sure it worked. When they come, they'll get a surprise."
Raistlin, Tanis, and Sturm looked at Caramon, then looked at each other.
"I am impressed, my brother," said Raistlin. "Sometimes you show glimmerings of intelligence."
Caramon flushed with pleasure. "Thanks, Raist."
"So we pretend we're dead, and when the murderer enters-"
"We grab him and then we make him talk," said Caramon.
"It could work," Sturm conceded. "We take the murderer to Hornfel, and this provides proof that Flint is in danger."
"And Tas," Caramon reminded them.
"Wherever he is," Tanis sighed. He'd momentarily forgotten the missing kender.
"Hornfel will have to let us go after Flint," Sturm concluded.
Tanis wasn't sure about that, but at least this attempt on their lives would put the Thanes on the defensive, unless the Thanes were all in on this together.
"The murderer will be expecting to find our bodies. How would we look if we'd been poisoned?"
"Too bad the bowls are broken," Sturm said. "That will give it away."
"Not at all," Raistlin said coolly. "We would have knocked the bowls about in our death throes. Now, if you will allow me, I will arrange your corpses for best effect."
The more Realgar thought about it, the less he
Dray-yan insisted, however. He did not trust these a.s.sa.s.sins, nor did he trust the Theiwar. He wanted to make certain the a.s.sa.s.sins were dead as promised. Grag would go in disguise, cloaked and hooded. The dwarves would notice the tall bozak; that couldn't be helped. The word had spread that humans were in Thorbardin. Grag would be taken for one of them.
Realgar gave in because he had to give in. He detested the "lizards," but he needed them and their army to conquer and subdue the other clans. Grag's lizard-warriors had already proven their worth by ambus.h.i.+ng a party of human barbarians who had entered Northgate. Not only had the draconians captured the humans, they'd taken an elf lord prisoner as well.
The captives had been given to the Theiwar for interrogation. Grag would have liked to have been present, but Dray-yan had told him there was no need. He knew all he needed to know about these humans. Realgar had only to convince one or two to tell the "truth," forcing the humans to admit they had come to Thorbardin with the intention of invading the dwarven kingdom, and that would be the end of them. Having spent a moment or two watching the dwarves' "questioning" methods, Grag had to admit the Theiwar knew what they were about when it came to torture. He had no doubt they would soon have a confession.
Realgar was going to a lot of trouble for nothing, Grag reflected. Once Thorbardin was secure, he and his troops were going to kill the slaves anyway. Still, as Dray-yan pointed out, fostering distrust between humans and dwarves could only aid their cause. Let the Hylar believe that humans had been about to invade their kingdom. They would far less likely to trust any human after that.
Satisfied that all was proceeding as planned, Grag accompanied four dark dwarves to the inn. Realgar himself did not go along. Realgar had asked for a meeting of the Council of Thanes on an emergency matter. He was planning to take two of the captives with him and exhibit them to the other Thanes.
"This revelation will throw the Thanes into turmoil," Dray-yan told Grag, "giving you time to marshal your forces and bring them into position. We will have the Thanes all neatly trapped in the same bottle."
"Including Realgar," said Grag, his claws twitching.
"Including that filthy maggot, and when the hammer of Kharas is brought forth, 'His Lords.h.i.+p' will be there to receive it."
"Verminaard has thought up an excellent plan," said Grag, grinning. "Too bad he's going to bungle it. Fortunately, his two brilliant subcommanders will be there to save the day."
"Here's to his brilliant subcommanders." Dray-yan raised a mug of dwarf spirits.
Grag raised his own mug. They toasted each other, then both drank deeply. The draconians had only recently discovered this potent liquor made by the dwarves, and both agreed that while dwarves might be a race of loathsome, hairy cretins, they could do two things right: forge steel and brew a fine drink.
Grag could still taste the spirits on his tongue and feel the fire burning in his belly as he left the boat that had carried him and his Theiwar companions across the lake to the Life Tree of the Hylar. Realgar and his two captives-both battered and b.l.o.o.d.y-traveled in the same boat.
The captives were wrapped in burlap bags to keep their ident.i.ties concealed until Realgar's big moment before the Thanes. The two men lay unconscious in the boat's bow, though occasionally one would moan, at which sound one of the Theiwar would kick him into silence. One of the captives was a barbarian, an extremely tall man, identified as the leader of the refugees. The other was the elf lord. Grag's scales clicked at the stink of elf blood. Grag hoped Realgar didn't kill him. Grag hated all the people of Ansalon, but there was a special place in his heart for elves.
Grag noted that blood was starting to seep through the burlap bag. He wondered how Realgar planned to haul the captives through the city up to the Court without attracting too much attention.
Realgar wasn't worried about such details, apparently. Peering out from the eye slits in his mask at the Life Tree, the thane talked in smug tones about the day his clan would leave their dank caves and move to this choice location. He pointed to certain prime businesses already marked for take-over by his people. As for his dwelling place, he would live in the home in which Hornfel was currently residing. Hornfel wouldn't need it. He'd be dwelling in the Valley of the Thanes.
Grag listened to the dark dwarf boast and brag, and the draconian smiled inwardly.
Few dark dwarves made the crossing from the Theiwar realm to the Life Tree, for there was little trade carried on between the Theiwar and the Hylar these days. The dock where the Theiwar usually landed was empty. Realgar and his men hauled the captives out of the boat without notice. Once they entered the streets, however, they ran into crowds of dwarves stilling milling about, talking in heated tones about the detested Neidar seeking "their" hammer. Few paid any attention to the Theiwar or the blood-stained burlap bags. Those who did were told that the Theiwar had been "butchering hogs."
Grag and his guides took their leave of Realgar. The dwarves who were out in the streets stared balefully at Grag, and as a Tall, he came in for his share of verbal abuse. Grag paid no attention. He just kept walking, his clawed feet-wrapped in rags-shuffling over the cobblestones, and he just kept smiling.
The Theiwar led Grag to the part of the city where the Talls resided. They had not gone far before two shadowy figures detached themselves from a building and hastened over to talk to the Theiwar. They all jabbered in dwarven for long moments, the two Theiwar gesturing at the inn, smirking and chortling. They pointed out two Hylar dwarves lying in an alley, bound hand and foot, with bags over their heads.
Grag waited impatiently for someone to tell him what was going on. Finally one of the Theiwar turned to him.
"It's done. You can report back to your master that the Talls are dead."
"My orders are to see for myself," said Grag. "Where are the bodies?"
The Theiwar scowled. "In an inn at the end of the street, but it's a waste of time, and we might be discovered. The Hylar could come at any moment."
"I'll run the risk," said Grag. He started to walk toward the building, then stopped and pointed to the Hylar dwarves. "What about them? Are they dead?"
"Of course not," said the Theiwar scornfully. "We're going to take them back with us."
"Easier to kill them," Grag pointed out.
"But less profitable," said the Theiwar with a grin.
Grag rolled his eyes.
"Are you sure the Talls inside are dead," he asked grimly, "or are you planning to hold them for ransom?"
"See for yourself, lizard," the Theiwar sneered, and he pointed to a cracked window.
Grag peered inside. He recognized the humans from Pax Tharkas. There was the Solamnic knight, not looking so knightly anymore, sprawled under the table. The half-elf lay alongside him. The wizard was slumped over in a chair. Grag was glad to see the mage was among the dead. He'd been a weak and sickly fellow, as Grag remembered, but wizards were always trouble. The big, muscle-bound warrior lay by the door. The poison had probably been slower to work on him. Perhaps he'd tried to go for help.
"They look dead," he admitted, "but I need to check the bodies to make certain."
He started for the door and suddenly found all the Theiwar lined up in front of him, their squinty little eyes glaring at him.
"What's the matter now?" Grag demanded.
One of the Theiwar jabbed a filthy finger at him. "Don't go looting the bodies. Anything of value on them is ours ours."
The other Theiwar all nodded emphatically.
Grag regarded them with disgust and started to push past them. The Theiwar seemed inclined to argue, but Grag made it clear that he was not going to put up with any nonsense. He put his hand to the hilt of his sword, and the Theiwar, grumbling, moved away from the door. As Grag opened it, two of the Theiwar dashed in immediately. They crouched beside the big fellow by the door and began tugging on his leather boots. The other two hurried inside after them, heading straight for the dead wizard.
Grag entered more slowly, keeping his eyes on the knight. The d.a.m.ned Solamnics were hard to kill. In fact, it seemed to Grag that the Solamnic looked a little too healthy for a corpse. Grag had drawn his sword and was bending over the knight to feel for a life-beat when squeals of terror erupted from behind him; squeals cut short by a sickening sound like the squis.h.i.+ng of over-ripe melons-two Theiwar heads being bashed together.
This was followed almost immediately by a dazzling flash, a shriek, and a curse. The knight and the half-elf both leaped to their feet. Half-blinded by the flash of light, Grag slashed at them with his sword. The half-elf overturned the table, effectively blocking the blow.
"It's a draconian!" the knight shouted, swinging his sword.
Grag ducked the blow.
"Don't kill him! Take him alive!" someone yelled.
Grag guessed he was on his own in this battle and a glance out the window proved him right. Two surviving Theiwar, their hair and beards singed, were running as fast as they could down the street.
Grag swore at them beneath his breath. He had two competent and skilled warriors in front of him, but he was more worried about the wizard behind him. Grag was just about to overpower the half-elf, when he heard chanting. He felt suddenly drowsy and staggered on his feet. Grag knew a magic spell when he heard one and he fought against it, but the magic overcame him.
The last thing he remembered, as he slumped to the floor, was rose petals drifting down around his head.
"This is how the dark dwarves knew about us and about the refugees," said Raistlin. is how the dark dwarves knew about us and about the refugees," said Raistlin.
He was standing over the comatose draconian, watching as Sturm and Caramon bound the creature's clawed hands and feet. "I told you at the Council meeting, Tanis, that it was important to find out."
"I've said twice I was sorry," Tanis said impatiently. "Next time I will listen to you, I promise. The question is now-what does this mean? What are draconians doing in Thorbardin?"