by Dragon Lance
Her second-in-command, a former Silvanesti named Merithynos, Merith for short, kept by her side as their horses picked their way slowly over the stony ground. The slopes were in shadow all morning.
“A futile task,” Merith said, sighing loudly. “What are we doing here?”
“Carrying out the Speaker’s command,” Verhanna replied firmly. Her gaze rested on a dark figure nestled in a fold in the ground. She stared hard at it but soon realized it was only a holly bush.
Merith yawned, one hand pressed against his mouth. “But it’s such a bore.”
“Yes, I know. You’d rather be in Qualinost, strutting down the street, impressing the maids with your sword and armor,” Verhanna, said dryly. “At least out here you’re earning your pay.”
“Captain! You wound me.” Merith clutched his chest and swayed as if shot by an arrow.
She scowled at him, a mock frown on her face. “Fool! How did a dandy like you ever get in the guards?” she asked.
“Actually, it was my father’s idea. Priesthood or warriorhood, that’s what he told me. ‘There’s no room in Clan Silver Moon for wastrels’, he said.”
Verhanna stiffened and reined her horse up short. “Quiet,” she hissed. “I saw something.”
With hand signals, the captain divided her troop of twenty in half, with ten warriors, including herself, dismounting. Sword and buckler at the ready, she led the guards up the gravelly slope. Their booted feet slid in the loose dirt. The climb was a slow one.
Suddenly a shape rose up in front of Verhanna and scampered away, like a partridge flushed by a spaniel.
“Get him!” the captain shouted. The small creature, which seemed to be wrapped in a white cloth, darted away but lost its footing and rolled downhill. It came to rest with a bump against Merith’s booted feet.
He put the tip of his slender elven blade against the sheeted mound, pricking the creature until it lay still. “Captain,” Merith called coolly, “I have him.”
The guards closed around the captive. Verhanna took one edge of the white sheet and pulled hard, spinning the occupant around. Out popped a small, sinewy figure with flaming red hair and a face to match.
“Stinkin’, poxy, rancid, dirty, lice-ridden —” he sputtered, rubbing his backside. “Who poked me?”
“I did,” Merith said. “And I’ll do it again if you don’t hold your tongue, kender.”
“That’s enough, Lieutenant,” Verhanna said sharply. Merith shrugged and gave the outraged fellow an insolent smile. The captain turned to her captive and demanded, “Who are you? Why did you run from us?”
“Wrinklecap is who I am, and you’d run, too, if you woke from a nap to see a dozen swords over you!” The kender stopped rubbing his backside and twisted around to look at it. An almost comical expression of outrage widened his pale blue eyes. “You made a hole in my trousers!” he said, glaring at them. “Someone’s gonna pay for this!”
“Be still,” Verhanna said. She shook out the sheet Wrinklecap had been sleeping in. A double handful of black pebbles fell from its folds. “A lodestone gatherer,” she said. The disappointment in her voice was obvious.
“The lodestone gatherer,” intoned the tiny fellow, tapping his chest with one finger. “Rufus Wrinklecap of Balifor, that’s me.”
The guards who were waiting below on horseback called out to their captain. Verhanna shouted back that all was well. Sheathing her sword, she said to the kender, “You’d better come along with us.”
“Why?” piped Rufus.
Verhanna was tired of bandying words with the noisy kender, so she pushed him ahead. Rufus snatched his sheet from the elven captain and rolled it up as he walked.
“Not fair – big bunch of bullies – creepin’, pointyheaded elves —” he grumbled all the way down the slope.
Verhanna halted and ordered her troopers to remount. She sat down on a handy boulder and waved the kender over. “How long have you been in these parts?” she asked him.
After a few seconds of hesitation, the kender took a deep breath and said, “Well, after Uncle Trapspringer escaped from the walrus men and was eaten by the great ice bear —”
The captain quickly clamped a hand over the kender’s open mouth. “No,” she said firmly. “I do not want your entire life history. Simply answer my questions, or I’ll let Lieutenant Merith poke you again.”
His long red topknot bobbled as Rufus swallowed hard. Verhanna was easily twice his size. Merith, from his mounted position next to them, was tapping the pommel of his sword meaningfully. The kender nodded. Verhanna released her hold on him.
“I’ve been here going on two months,” Rufus said sulkily.
Verhanna remembered the loose stones he’d had. “You don’t have much to show for two month’s work,” she commented.
Rufus puffed out his thin chest. “I only take the best stones,” he said proudly. “I don’t fill my pockets with trash like all them others do.”
Ignoring for the moment the little fellow’s last remark, Verhanna asked, “How do you live? I don’t see any camp gear, cooking pot, or waterskin.”
The kender turned innocent azure eyes on her and said, “I find what I need.”
Merith snorted loudly. A smile touched Verhanna’s lips. “Find, eh? Kender are good at that. Who have you ‘found’ things from?” she asked.
“Different people.”
Verhanna drew a long, double-edged dagger from her belt and began to strop it slowly against her boot. “We’re looking for some different people,” she said carefully, making sure the kender followed every stroke of the bright blade. “Humans. Maybe some elves.” The dagger paused. “Slavers.”
Rufus let out his breath with a whoosh. “Oh!” he exclaimed, his high-pitched voice descending the scale. “Is that who you’re after? Well, why didn’t you say so?”
The kender launched into a typically random account of his activities of the past few days – caves he’d explored, wonders he’d beheld, and a secret camp he’d found over the mountains. In this camp, he claimed there were humans and elves holding other humans and elves in chains. Rufus had seen the camp just two days before.
“On the other side of the mountains?” Verhanna said sharply. “The eastern slope?”
“Yup. Right by the river. Are you going to attack them?” The kender’s eagerness was unmistakable. His darting gaze took in their armor and weapons, and he added, “Well, of course you are. Want me to show you where I saw them?”
Verhanna did indeed. She ordered food and water for Rufus while she conferred with Merith about this new intelligence.
The kender wolfed down chunks of quith-pa, a rich elven bread, and bites of a winesap apple. “This little fellow may be a great help to us,” she said confidentially to Merith. “Send a message to Lord Ambrodel informing him of what we’ve learned.”
Merith saluted. “Yes, Captain.” His expression turned grim as he added, “You realize what this means, don’t you? If the slavers are on the other side of the mountain, then they are operating within sight of the city.”
He turned on one heel and strode away to send the dispatch to Lord Ambrodel. Verhanna watched him for a moment, then pulled on her gauntlets and said to Rufus, “Can you ride pillion?”
The kender hastily lowered a water bottle from his lips, dribbling sweet spring water down his sunbrowned cheeks. “Ride a what?” he asked suspiciously.
Not pausing to explain, Verhanna swung onto her black horse and grabbed the kender by the hood attached to the back of his deerhide tunic. Yelping, Rufus felt himself lifted into the air and settled on the short leather tail of her saddle.
“That’s a pillion,” she said. “Now hold on!”
Chapter 2
THE RAID
The kender led Verhanna’s troops across the mountains to a bluff overlooking the River of Hope, which formed Qualinost’s western boundary. The towers and bridges of the city rose up to the northeast not three miles away. The sun was setting behind the mountains
at the warriors’ backs. Its light washed the capital, and the arched bridges glowed like golden tiaras. Nestled in the light green of spring leaves, thousands of windows reflected the crimson sun. Brightest of all, the Tower of the Sun mirrored the fiery glow with a vigor that nearly burned Verhanna’s eyes.
Verhanna gazed over the city her father had founded, and a deep sense of peace filled her. Her home was beautiful; the thought that dealers in elven and human misery operated within sight of Qualinost’s beauty sent a wave of resolute anger washing over her.
Rufus broke her reverie. “Captain,” he whispered, “I smell smoke.”
Verhanna strained until she caught a faint tang of wood smoke on the gentle breeze. It was coming from below, from the base of the bluff. “Is there a way down there?” she queried.
“Not on horseback. The path’s too narrow,” Rufus replied.
Quietly Verhanna ordered her troops to dismount. The horses were tethered among the rocks, and a group of five warriors was set to watch them. The remaining fifteen followed Verhanna to the path. She, in turn, followed Rufus Wrinklecap.
It was obvious that others had been using this path. Sand from the riverbank had been spread over the rocky ground, no doubt to soften footfalls. Now the sand served the guards as they crept down the path two abreast. They were careful to keep their shields from banging against anything. The smell of wood smoke grew stronger.
The base of the bluff was some thirty yards from the river’s edge. Scrub pines dotted the landscape, and halfway out from the cliff, there was nothing but sand deposited by the river during spring floods. Verhanna caught Rufus by the shoulder and stopped him. The warriors crouched silently behind their captain, shielded from the camp by the small trees.
Voices drifted to them – voices and sounds of movement.
“Can’t see how many there are,” Verhanna said in a tense whisper.
“I can find out,” Rufus said confidently, and before she could stop him, he had eased out from under her hand and started forward.
“No! Come back!” the captain hissed.
It was too late. With the fearlessness, some might say foolishness, of his race, the kender scrambled forward a few paces, stood, and dusted the sand from his knees. Then, whistling a cheery air, he marched into the unseen slavers’ camp.
Merith crawled to his captain. “The little thief will give us away,” he murmured.
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “By the gods, he’s a brave little mite.”
Moments later, rough laughter filled the air. Rufus’s treble voice, saying something unintelligible, followed, then more laughter. To Verhanna’s surprise, the kender came rolling through the scrub pines, knees tucked under his chin. He made a graceful flip onto his feet and flung out his arms. There was more laughter, and a spattering of applause. Verhanna understood; the kender was playing the fool, doing acrobatic tricks to amuse the slavers.
Rufus scuffed his feet on the sand and dove headfirst into a somersault. From her hiding place, Verhanna could just make out what he’d marked in the dirt. A one and a zero. There were ten slavers in the camp.
“Good fellow,” she whispered fiercely. “We’ll rush them. Spread out along the riverbank. I don’t want any of them jumping in the water and swimming away.” Burdened by armor, her guards wouldn’t be able to pursue the slavers in the river.
Swords whisked out of scabbards. Verhanna stood, silently thrusting her blade in the air. The last rays of daylight fell across her face, highlighting its mix of human and elven features. Almond shaped elven eyes, rather broad human cheeks, and a sharp Silvanesti chin proclaimed the captain’s ancestry. Her braid of light brown hair hung forward across her chest, and she flicked it behind her. She nodded curtly to her warriors. The guards swept forward.
As Verhanna hurried through the screen of scrawny trees, she took in the slavers’ camp in a quick glance. At the foot of the cliff stood several huts made of beach stone chinked with moss. They blended in so well with their surroundings that from a distance no one would have recognized them as dwellings. Two small campfires burned on the open ground in front of the huts. The slavers stood in a ragged group between the fires. Rufus, his red topknot dripping perspiration and his blizzard of freckles lost on his flushed face, was standing on his hands before them.
The astonished slavers shouted when they saw the guards crashing toward them. A few reached for weapons, but most elected to flee. Verhanna pounded across the sand, straight at the nearest armed slaver. He appeared to be a Kagonesti, with dark braided hair and red triangles painted on his cheeks. In his hands he held a short spear with a wicked barbed head. Verhanna fended off the spear point with her shield and hacked at the shaft with her sword, lopping off the spearhead. The Kagonesti cursed, flung the wooden shaft at her, and turned to run. She was on him in a heartbeat, her long legs far swifter than his. The captain lowered her sword and slashed the fleeing slaver on the back of his leg. He fell, clutching his wounded limb. Verhanna hopped over him and kept going.
The slavers fell back, driven in toward the cliff base by the swords of the guards. Some chose to fight the Qualinesti, and these died in a brief, bloody skirmish. The ragged band was poorly armed and outnumbered, and soon they were on their knees, crying out for quarter.
“Down on your bellies!” Verhanna shouted. “Put your hands out flat on the ground.”
She heard a warning shout from her left and turned in time to see one of the slavers sprinting for the river. He had too much of a head start for any of the guards to catch him, but he hadn’t reckoned on Rufus Wrinklecap. The kender whipped out a sling and quickly loosed a pellet. With a thunk, the stone hit the back of the slaver’s head, and the escaping human fell and lay still. Rufus trotted over to him, and his hands began moving through the fellow’s clothing.
The fight was over. The slavers were searched and bound hand and foot. Of the ten in the camp, four were human men, four were Kagonesti, and two were half-humans. Merith remarked on the fact that the three who died fighting were all Kagonesti.
“They’re not inclined to submit,” Verhanna replied grudgingly. “Have those huts searched, Merith.”
Rufus came sauntering up, swinging his sling jauntily. “Pretty good fight, eh, Captain?” he said cheerfully.
“More a pigeon shoot than a fight, thanks to you.”
The kender beamed. Verhanna dug into her belt pouch and found a gold piece. Her father’s graven image stared up from the coin. She tossed it to Rufus.
“That’s for your help, kender,” she said.
He caressed the heavy gold piece. “Thank you, my captain.”
Just then Merith shouted, “Captain! Over here!” He stood by one of the huts.
“What is it?” she asked sharply when she reached him. “What’s wrong?”
Ashen-faced, he nodded toward the hut. “You – you’d best go inside and see.”
Verhanna frowned and pushed by him. The door of the crude stone house was nothing but a flap of leather. She thrust a hand through and stepped inside. A candle burned on the small table in the center of the one-room dwelling. Someone was seated at the table. His face was in shadow, but Verhanna saw numerous rings on the hand that rested on the table, including a familiar silver signet ring. A ring that belonged to —
“Really, sister, you have the most appalling timing in the world,” said the seated figure. He leaned forward into the candlelight, and the hazel eyes of the line of Silvanos sparkled.
“Ulvian! What are you doing here?” Verhanna asked, shock reducing her voice to a whisper.
Kith-Kanan’s son pushed the candle aside and clasped his hands lightly on the tabletop.
“Conducting some very profitable business, till you so rudely disrupted it.”
“Business?” For a long moment, his sister couldn’t take it in. The crude plates and utensils, the worn wooden table, the rough pallet of blankets in one corner, even the sputtering candle – all claimed her roving gaze before her eyes once more
rested on the person before her. Then, with the force of a summer storm, she exploded, “Business! Slavery!”
Ulvian’s handsome face, so like his mother Suzine’s, twitched slightly. Full-blooded elven males couldn’t grow beards or mustaches, but Ulvian kept a modest stubble as a sign of his half-human heritage. With a quick, distracted motion, he stroked the fine golden hair.
“What I do is none of your affair,” he said, annoyed. “Nor anyone else’s, for that matter.”
Her own brother a trafficker in slaves! Eldest son of the House of Silvanos and the supposed heir to the throne of Qualinesti. Verhanna’s face flamed with her disgrace and the knowledge of the shame and pain this would cause their father. How could Ulvian do such a thing? Then her mortification was replaced by anger. Cold rage filled the Speaker’s daughter. Grabbing Ulvian by the front of his crimson silk doublet, Verhanna dragged him from behind the table and out of the hut. Merith was still waiting outside.
“Where are the slaves?” she rasped. Mutely Merith pointed to the larger of the two remaining huts.
“Come on, Brother,” growled Verhanna, shoving Ulvian ahead of her. Other guards saw the Speaker’s son and gaped. Merith stormed at them.
“What are you gawking at? Mind those prisoners!” he ordered.
Verhanna propelled Ulvian into the slave hut. Within, a guard was removing a young, emaciated female elf’s chains with a hammer and chisel. Other slaves slumped against the walls of the hut. Even with their deliverance at hand, they were broken in spirit, listless and passive. There were some half-human males, and to Verhanna’s horror, two dark-haired human children who couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old. All the captives were caked with filth. The hut reeked of stale sweat, urine, and despair.
The guard hacked the elf woman’s chain in two and helped her stand. Her thin, frail legs wouldn’t support her. With only the faintest of sighs, she crumpled. The guard lifted her starved body in his arms and carried her out.