Dragons of The Dwarven Depths Part 39

"You speak as though you were willing to switch allegiance," said Realgar, "serve a new master."

"Grag and I might consider it," said Dray-yan, "depending on what was in it for us."

"Your own share of the profits."

Dray-yan and Grag discussed this proposition.

"The weasel has taken the bait," said the aurak in draconian. "As we discussed, when this hammer is recovered I will keep the Thanes distracted-or rather, 'His Lordship' will keep them distracted. Your troops will enter Thorbardin, take over and occupy key dwarven fortifications."

Grag nodded. "The troops are a.s.sembled in the tunnel, awaiting my command. If the hammer is found, the dwarves will take it to the location they call the Temple of the Stars. Once the Thanes have a.s.sembled, we can seal the exits, trapping them and the hammer inside."

"After his lordship has met his sad end," Dray-yan said, "and the hammer is safely in my hands, I will have a little talk with the Thanes. I will let them know who is going to be in charge from now on." He cast a baleful glance at Realgar.

"We draconians will be the first in the Dark Queen's service to conquer a nation of Ansalon," Grag observed. "Emperor Ariakas cannot choose but to grant us the respect we deserve. Perhaps someday a draconian will be the one to wear the Crown of Power."

Dray-yan could almost feel that crown upon his own scaly head. He reluctantly tore himself away from his dream and returned to business.

"Grag and I have spoken," said Dray-yan to the Theiwar. "We agree to your terms."

"I thought you lizards might," said Realgar with a sneer.

"We have devised a plan to deal with His Lordship," Dray-yan continued, "but first, Grag and I are concerned about these six a.s.sa.s.sins who have entered your realm. These men are in the pay of the elves. They were sent into Pax Tharkas to try to kill His Lordship. He survived the attack, but they managed to escape."

"You sound as though you're afraid of these criminals," said Realgar.

Dray-yan's claws twitched. He had something very special in mind for Realgar once he took over.

"I do not fear fear them," Dray-yan said. "I do respect them, however, as should you. They are clever, and they are skilled, and they have the blessings of their G.o.ds." them," Dray-yan said. "I do respect them, however, as should you. They are clever, and they are skilled, and they have the blessings of their G.o.ds."

"And they are dead," said Realgar smugly. "You need not worry about them." they are dead," said Realgar smugly. "You need not worry about them."

Dray-yan's tongue flicked in and out. He didn't believe Realgar.

"Dead? How?" he asked sharply.

He was interrupted by a dwarf, who came running into the Thane's sinkhole of a dwelling place. The dwarf began gabbling in his own language. Realgar listened with interest. His scraggly beard parted in a rotted-toothed grin. At almost the same moment, a baaz draconian entered. He saluted and waited for Grag to acknowledge him.

The baaz made his report, who relayed the news to Dray-yan.

"A small band of humans are approaching the Northgate. It looks like a scouting party."

"My fugitive slaves?"

"Almost certainly. One of them is that extremely tall Plainsman who fought Verminaard. He leads others like him, all dressed in animal skins-six total. An elf lord travels with them. He was also seen at Pax Tharkas."

"I take it we have received the same news," said Realgar, who was watching the draconians closely. "Human warriors have arrived at Northgate."

"Yes," Dray-yan responded. "The same criminals who escaped us in Pax Tharkas."

"Praise Her Dark Majesty," said Realgar, rubbing his dirty hands together in satisfaction. "They will not escape us here."

"1 will send my forces to destroy them," Grag began.

"No, wait!" Realgar interposed. "They're not to be slain. I want at least two of them captured alive."

"A live enemy is a dangerous enemy," said Grag. "Kill them and be done with it."

"Normally, I would agree," said Realgar, "but I need this sc.u.m as proof to Hornfel and the other Council members that a human army is planning to invade us. I will bring these spies before the Council, exhibit them, and make them confess. Hornfel will have no choice but to close the Northgate, which will ensure that our secret dealings with the dragonarmy will continue. The Theiwar will grow rich and powerful. The Hylar will starve. I will soon be ruler under the mountain-hammer or no hammer."

"You know, of course, that there is no human army," Grag said. "They are merely desperate slaves. Why should these humans say otherwise?"

"When I am finished with them, they will not only claim they are leaders of an army sent here to attack us, they will believe their confessions, and so will all who hear them. In the meantime, you and your troops will go down into the forest, track down these other humans, and kill them."

"I do not take my orders from you-" Grag began, his clawed hand reaching for the hilt of his sword.

"Patience, Commander," Dray-yan counseled, adding in their own language, "This Realgar may be a weasel, but he is a cunning weasel. Do as he commands in regard to the slaves. Take them alive. We will let him think he is in control for the time being. Meanwhile, I want you to make certain he is telling the truth. Find out if the a.s.sa.s.sins have been slain, as he claims. If not, you deal with them."

"Stop hissing at each other! From now on, you'll speak Common when you're in my presence. What did you just say to him?" Realgar demanded suspiciously.

"What you told me to say, Thane," Dray-yan replied humbly. "I relayed your orders to Grag, tellling him his men are to capture the Plainsmen alive."

Realgar grunted. "Take them to the dungeons once you have them. I will be there to question them."

"Commander, you heard the Thane's orders," said Dray-yan in Common. He glanced back at Realgar. "You have no objection, I take it, to allowing Commander Grag to view the bodies of the six a.s.sa.s.sins?"

"Nothing easier," said Realgar. "I will send some of my people to escort him." He gestured to a couple of Theiwar, who stood lurking in the shadows.

"I suppose this Grag is capable of handling my orders?" Realgar added, casting the draconian commander a disparaging glance.

"He's very intelligent," Dray-yan replied dryly, "for a lizard."

Chapter 16.

Duncan's Tomb. Yet Another Kharas.

The helm was was cursed," Arman said, his voice trembling with anger and fear. He rounded on Flint. "You have lured us to our doom!" cursed," Arman said, his voice trembling with anger and fear. He rounded on Flint. "You have lured us to our doom!"

Flint's gut twisted. He imagined for one terrible moment what it would be like to be imprisoned here, left to die, then he remembered touching the stone hand of the Prince, the feeling of peace that had stolen over him.

"You didn't expect to walk in and find the Hammer lying on the floor, did you?" he asked Arman. "We'll be tested, like as not, before we find it. We might well die, but we weren't sent here to die."

Arman considered this. "You are probably right," he said more calmly. "I should have thought of that. A test, of course, to see which of us is worthy."

Sunlight edged in through the slit windows. Arman reached into a leather pouch he wore on his belt and drew out a folded piece of yellowed parchment. He carefully opened the folds, then walked over to the light to study it.

"What have you got there?" Flint asked curiously.

Arman did not reply.

"It's a map,' said Ta.s.slehoff, crowding close beside the dwarf, peering over his elbow. "I love maps. What's it a map of?"

Arman shifted his position so that his back was to the kender.

"The tomb," he answered. "It was drawn up by the original architect. It has been in our family for generations."

"Then all we have to do is use the map to find the Hammer!" said Tas excitedly.

"No, we can't, you doork.n.o.b," said Flint. "The Hammer was placed in the tomb after after Duncan was buried here. It wouldn't be on the map." He eyed Arman. "Would it?" Duncan was buried here. It wouldn't be on the map." He eyed Arman. "Would it?"

"No," said Arman, studying the map, then glancing around at their surroundings, then going back to the map.

"Mind if I take a look?" Flint asked.

"The map is very old and fragile," said Arman. "It should not be handled." He folded the map and slid it back into his belt.

"But at least it will show us the way out," said Tas. "There must be a front door."

"And what good will that do when we're a mile in the air, you doork.n.o.b?" Flint demanded.

"Oh," said Tas. "Yeah, right."

The magical archway through which they had pa.s.sed would also have been added after Duncan's death, undoubtedly put there by the same powerful force that had ripped the tomb out of the ground and hoisted it into the clouds. The same force that might still be lurking inside the tomb, waiting for them.

Arman paced the chamber, peering into shadowy corners and glancing out the arrow slits to the ground far below. He turned to Flint. "The first thing you should do is search for the exit."

"I'll search," said Flint grimly, "for what I came for-the Hammer."

As if conjured up by the word, the musical note sounded again. The note was no longer faint as it had been below, but rich and melodious. Long after the sound ceased, the vibrations lingered on the air.

"That noise goes all the way through me. I can even feel it in my teeth," said Tas, charmed. He stared at the ceiling and pointed. "It's coming from up there."

"There are stairs over here, leading up," Arman reported from the far side of the chamber. He paused, then said stiffly, "I'm sorry I lost my nerve. It won't happen again, I a.s.sure you."

Flint nodded noncommittally. He intended to conduct his own inspection of the room. "Where does the map say we are?"

"This is the Hall of Enemies," said Arman. "These trophies honor King Duncan's battles."

Various weapons, shields, and other implements of war were on display, along with etched silver plaques relating the triumphs of King Duncan over his enemies, including his exploits in the famous war against the ogres. There were no trophies from the last war, however, the most bitter and terrible war fought against his own kind.

Flint caught the kender in the act of trying to pick up a large ogre battle-axe.

"Put that down!" Flint said, incensed. "What else have you stuck in your pouches-"

"I don't have any pouches," Tas pointed out sadly. "I had to leave them behind to put on the dwarf armor."

"Your pockets, then," Flint spluttered, "and if I find that you've stolen something-"

"I never stole in my life!" Tas protested. "Stealing is wrong."

Flint sucked in a breath. "Well, then if I find that you've 'borrowed' anything or picked up something that someone's dropped-"

"Stealing from the dead is extremely wrong," Tas said solemnly. "Cursed, even."

"Would you let me finish a sentence?" Flint roared.

"Yes, Flint," said Tas meekly. "What was it you wanted to say?"

Flint glared. "I forget. Come with me."

He turned on his heel and walked to the corner where Arman had reported finding the stairs. Tas sidled over to one of the displays and put down a small bone-handled knife that had somehow managed to make its way up his shirt sleeve. He gave the knife a pat and sighed, then went to join Flint, who was staring intently at several hammers stacked up against a wall.

"I guess it's all right if you you steal from the dead," said Tas. steal from the dead," said Tas.

"Me?" Flint said, incensed. "I'm not-"

He paused, not sure what to say.

"What about the Hammer?" Tas asked.

"That's not stealing," said Flint. "It's .. .finding .finding. There's a difference."

"So if I 'find' something I can take it?" Tas asked. He had, after all, found that bone-handled knife.

"I didn't say that!"

"Yes, you did."

"Where's Arman?" Flint realized suddenly that he and Tas were alone.

"I think he's gone up those stairs," said Tas, pointing. "When you're not shouting, I can hear him talking to someone."

"Who in blazes could he be talking to?" Flint wondered uneasily. He c.o.c.ked an ear, and sure enough, he heard what sounded like two voices, one of which was definitely Arman's.

"A ghost!" Tas guessed, and he started to race up the stairs.

Flint seized hold of the kender's shirttail. "Not so fast."

"But if there is a ghost, I don't want to miss it!" Tas cried, wriggling in Flint's grasp.

"Shush! I want to hear what they're talking about."

Flint crept up the narrow stairs. Tas sneaked along behind him. The staircase was steep, and they couldn't see where the steps led. Soon, Flint's breath began to come in gasps and his leg muscles started to cramp. He pressed on and suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Two of the stone stairs jutted outward at an odd angle, leaving an opening about the size of a large human. Light glimmered from within.