The bigger and uglier part applied to Toede, who was short and lumpish with a flabby belly; grayish, yellowish, greenish skin; red, piggy eyes; and a thick-lipped, cadaverous mouth that tended to collect pockets of drool at the corners. It was the smarter part that appeared to open to question. Toede’s wildly grandiose, self-styled uniform bore no resemblance to any uniform Kitiara had ever seen. His clothes had evidently been thrown on in haste, for the buttons of the coat were in the wrong buttonholes and he had neglected to lace up his pants, leaving a huge gap between pants and shirt-a gap filled by his warty, yellow belly. He had run most of the way, apparently, for he was covered in dust and sweating profusely.
Kitiara had a strong stomach. She’d walked countless battlefields, stinking with the stench of rotting corpses, and been able to eat a hearty meal afterward. The reek of the perspiring Toede in the closed-in tent was too much for her to take. She moved closer to the entrance for a breath of fresh air.
Toede crowded beside her, practically tripping on her heels with his flapping feet. “I was out on a particularly dangerous scouting mission, Highlord, so dangerous I could not ask any of my men to undertake it.”
“Did you grapple with the enemy, Fewmaster?” Kitiara asked, glancing sidelong at Grag.
“I did,” said Toede with magnificent aplomb. “The battle was ferocious.”
“No doubt, since I suppose the ‘enemy’ would not take your assault ‘lying down’,” said Kitiara.
Grag made a gurgling sound in his throat and covered it with a cough.
Toede appeared slightly confused. “No, no, the enemy was not lying down, Highlord.”
“You had them up against the wall?” Kitiara asked.
At this, Commander Grag was forced to excuse himself. “I have my duties, Highlord,” he said and made good his escape.
Toede, meanwhile, was starting to grow suspicious. His pink eyes narrowed as he glared at the departing draconian. “I don’t know what that slimy lizard has been telling you, Highlord, but it is not true. While I might have been at the Red Slipper, it was in the line of duty. I was-”
“-under cover,” suggested Kitiara.
“Exactly,” said Toede. He heaved a relieved sigh and mopped his yellow face with his sleeve.
Having by now come up with a pretty good idea of the wit and wisdom of the Fewmaster, Kitiara thought he would make a perfect Highlord-one who would certainly never become a dangerous rival. While Toede continued his “battles” at the Red Slipper, the real work of running the war would be done by the capable Commander Grag. Besides, promoting this fool would serve Ariakas right.
Kitiara did not intend to apprise Toede of her decision yet. “I must say I admire you for your courage in taking on such a perilous assignment. I have been sent by Lord Ariakas to advise in the selection of a new Highlord, one to take the place of Lord Verminaard-”
She got no farther. The Fewmaster had seized hold of her hand. “I hesitate to put myself forward, Highlord, but I would be highly honored to be considered for the highly coveted high post of Highlord-”
Kitiara wrenched her hand free and wiped it on her cloak. She glanced down. “My boots need polishing,” she said.
“They are somewhat muddy, Highlord,” said Toede. “Allow me.”
He dropped down on his knees and began to scrub assiduously at her boots with the sleeve of his coat.
“That will do, Fewmaster,” said Kit when she could see her reflection in the leather. “You may get up now.”
Toede rose, grunting. “Thank you, Highlord. Could I offer you some refreshment?” He turned around and bellowed. “Cold ale for the Highlord!”
“I do have to ask you some questions, Fewmaster,” said Kitiara. Finding a camp stool, she seated herself.
Toede stood hovering over her, wringing his hands.
“I will be glad to assist you with anything, Highlord.”
“Tell me about these assassins of Lord Verminaard. I understand they have thus far escaped you.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” said Toede promptly. “Grag and the aurak bungled the job. I know where the felons are. I just… er… can’t seem to find them. They’re in the dwarven kingdom, you see. I will tell you-”
“Not interested,” said Kitiara, holding up her hand to halt the flow. “Neither is the emperor.”
“Of course not,” said Toede. “Why would he be?”
“Back to the assassins. Do you know their names? Something about them? Where they came from-”
“Oh, yes,” said Toede happily. “I had them in custody!”
“You did?” Kitiara stared at him.
“What I mean to say,” Toede gabbled, “is that I didn’t actually have them in custody. I had them locked up in cages.”
“But not in custody,” said Kit, her lips twitching.
Toede gulped. “I thought they were like all the rest of the slaves we were rounding up at the time. I didn’t know they were assassins. How could I, Highlord?” Toede spread his hands pathetically. “After all, when I apprehended them, they hadn’t assassinated anyone yet.”
Kitiara struggled to contain her mirth. She waved her hand.
Toede again mopped his brow. “I was taking the slaves to Pax Tharkas to work in the iron mines when the caravan was attacked by an army of five thousand elves.”
“Five thousand elves!” Kitiara marveled.
“Due to my brilliant leadership, Highlord, my small force-there were only six of us-held out against the elves for several days,” said Toede in modest tones. “Despite the fact that I was wounded in fourteen places, I was prepared to fight to the death. But sadly, I lost consciousness and my second-in-command-the cowardly bastard-gave the order to retreat. My men carried me from the field. I was near death, but Queen Takhisis herself healed me.”
“How fortunate for our cause that Her Majesty loves you so much,” said Kitiara dryly. “Now, in regard to the assassins-”
“Yes, let me see if I can recall them.” Toede squinched up his face. Presumably this hideous grimace denoted some sort of thought process. “I first encountered these miscreants in Solace when his lordship sent me there in search of a blue crystal staff. If you could just excuse me one moment-”
Toede dashed off. Kitiara saw him running hither and thither around the camp, accosting the troops, asking questions. Apparently, he got his answers, for Toede came dashing back, his big belly flopping, his jowls jiggling.
“I have remembered, my lord. They were impossible to forget. There was a mongrel half-elf by the name of Tanis, a sickly wizard known as Raistlin Majere and his brother, Caramon. There was a knight. Something Brightblade. And a dwarf known as Flint and a foul little beast of a kender going under the name of Hotfoot-”
Kit muttered something.
Toede interrupted himself to ask, “Do you know these felons, Highlord?”
“Of course not,” said Kitiara sharply. “Why should I?”
“No reason, Highlord,” Toede said, blanching. “None at all. It’s just I thought I heard you say something-”
“I coughed, that was all,” she said, adding irritably, “The smell in this place is foul.”
“It’s the draconians,” said Toede. “Stinking reptiles. I’d get rid of them, but they have their uses. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the assassins were traveling in company with some barbarians…”
Kitiara was only half-listening. When she had first begun to question Toede, it had all been a game. She had wanted to find out for certain if the assassins had been Tanis, her brothers, her old friends. She hadn’t thought hearing their names, discovering the truth, would affect her so profoundly. The feelings she experienced were mixed. She took a perverse pride in her friends for having slain the powerful Highlord and she was dismayed and uneasy because she might well be connected to them. Above all, she had a sudden strong desire to see them all again-particularly Tanis.
“-the half-breed and his friends arrived in Pax Tharkas,” Toede was saying when she began to
listen to him again, “where I was myself at the time, acting as advisor to Lord Verminaard. The felons were traveling in company with a couple of elves, brother and sister. His name was Gilthanas and her name was, let me see”-Toede’s face wrinkled deeply-“Falanalooptyansa or something like that.”
“Lauralanthalasa,” Kitiara said.
“That’s it!” Toede slapped his hand on his thigh, then he regarded her in amazement. “How did you know, Highlord?”
Kitiara realized she had almost given herself away.
“Everyone with a brain knows,” she retorted caustically. “The woman you had in your grubby hands is an elf princess, daughter of the Speaker of the Suns.”
Toede gasped. “Truly?” he quavered.
Kitiara fixed Toede with a stern glare. “You had the daughter of the king of the elves in your grasp and you did nothing!”
“Not me, Highlord!” Toede squeaked, his voice rising in panic. “It was Lord Verminaard. I just remembered. I wasn’t anywhere near Pax Tharkas at the time! I’m sure if I had been in Pax Tharkas I would have recognized the princess at once because, as you say, everyone knows this Lauralapsaloosa… this, this… princess, and I would have advised Lord Verminaard to… uh… uh…” Toede hesitated.
“You would have advised him to hold her hostage. Use her to demand the elves surrender or you would kill her. You would collect a fortune in ransom for her.”
“Yes!” Toede cried. “That’s exactly what I was going to advise his lordship to do. Verminaard often begged me for counsel, you know. They tell me his dying words were: ‘If I had only listened to Toede’… Where are you going, Highlord? Is everything all right?”
Kitiara had risen abruptly to her feet.
“I grow weary of this discussion. Where is my tent?”
Toede leapt up. “I will escort you there myself, Highlord-”
Kitiara rounded on the hobgoblin. “I don’t need a bloody escort! Just tell me where the damn tent is!”
Toede quailed. “Yes, Highlord. You can see it from here.” He pointed meekly to one of the larger tents in the camp. “Over there-”
Kitiara stormed off. She kicked aside a keg and knocked down a draconian who was slow to move out of her way. Ducking thankfully into the cool darkness of the tent, she sat down on the crude bed. She almost immediately got back to her feet again and began to pace.
Lauralanthalasa, known affectionately as Laurana; elf princess, daughter of the Speaker of the Suns-and the betrothed of Tanis Half-Elven.
Tanis had told Kitiara all about that old childhood romance. He had also told her it was forgotten. He loved only one woman in the world, and that was Kitiara.
When she had asked him to travel north with her five years ago, he’d refused. He had made some lame excuse about inner turmoil, the need to think some things over, to come to know himself, try to find some inner peace between the warring halves of his being. He’d heard some rumors of the return of the true gods. He was going to go investigate…
“Investigate gods, my ass!” Kitiara fumed. “He went off to investigate his old girlfriend-the lying bastard!”
Never mind that in the intervening years, Kitiara had herself known a score of lovers, including Tanis’s close friend, Sturm Brightblade, who had journeyed north with her. That liaison had lasted one night only. She’d seduced the young man mainly because she was angry at Tanis. After Sturm there was Ariakas, and now her handsome second-in-command, Bakaris. She didn’t love any of them. She was not sure she loved Tanis, but she was damn sure he should be in love with her-not some spindly-limbed, slant-eyed, pointy-eared elf bitch.
Kitiara no longer cared why or how her friends had come to assassinate Lord Verminaard. All she could think about was Tanis and the elf girl. Was she still with him? What had happened when they were in Pax Tharkas together? Kitiara needed more information, and she regretted having walked away from Toede before he had finished his story. But then, he hadn’t been in Pax Tharkas. He’d said so himself. She needed to find someone who had.
She would ask Commander Grag. But she had to find an excuse for asking him about her friends. He must not suspect. No one must suspect. Ariakas was already suspicious, and if he ever found out that Tanis had been Kit’s lover…
Kitiara collapsed on the bed. She gazed, frowning, up at the canvas ceiling and berated herself.
“What am I doing? Why do I care? Tanis is a man just like every other man I’ve ever known. Except he isn’t,” Kitiara added softly, grudgingly.
All those men in her life since she’d been with Tanis. Kitiara realized now that she’d taken these men into her arms and into her bed in hopes that each new lover would make her forget the old one. The only lover who had spurned her, rejected her, turned his back on her and walked out of her life.
As Kitiara drifted off to sleep she saw Tanis’s face-just as she saw his face every time some other man made love to her.
Far away in Neraka, the fire in the brazier blazed brightly. The flames were reflected in Ariakas’s eyes, but he wasn’t seeing the flames. He was seeing the images within the magical firelight. He was watching and listening with frowning displeasure.
At length, the magical fire consumed the few strands of black curly hair Iolanthe had placed carefully into the brazier. The images of the hobgoblin, Toede, and Kitiara disappeared just as Kitiara stormed off to her tent.
This was the third time Iolanthe and Ariakas had used her scrying spell to spy on Kitiara and the first time they’d ever discovered something interesting. Prior to that, she and Ariakas had observed Kitiara speaking with Derek Crownguard, and the other time she’d been riding Skie. Ariakas had been pleased to discover that Kit was loyal to him, perhaps the only one of his Highlords he could truly trust. He was now being forced to face the truth.
Iolanthe said quietly, “You note, my lord, how she brought the conversation around to those people from Solace. Among those named were her half-brothers, were they not, my lord? Raistlin and Caramon Majere?”
“They were,” said Ariakas grimly. He shifted his baleful gaze from the brazier, from which curls of smoke were rising, to Iolanthe. “Kitiara told me about them. I think she once hoped they would join her, but if so, nothing ever came of it. If she did hire these men, why would she ask questions about them? It seems to me she would avoid mentioning them at all, so as not to draw suspicion to herself.”
“Unless she fears she might be implicated, my lord. She could be trying to find out if they said or did anything that would point the finger back at her.”
Ariakas grunted and shoved back his chair. He rose to his feet and with a flip of his cape, stalked off without a word. He was angry with her for having revealed to him what he didn’t want to know. Iolanthe should have tried to appease him, but she was too drained by the spellcasting to go after him. The scrying spell was a powerful one, requiring immense focus and concentration. She was feeling dizzy and nauseous and the stench of burnt hair wasn’t helping.
Ariakas halted when he reached the door to her chambers.
“I am not convinced,” he told her. “We will do this again.”
“I am yours to command, my lord,” Iolanthe said wearily, and she managed to find the strength to rise to her feet and bow.
When he was gone, she sank back into the chair and stared at the smoking brazier. She pondered what she was doing. In betraying Kitiara to Ariakas, she was undoubtedly winning Ariakas’s favor, but what would happen if Kit found out? Having watched Kitiara, Iolanthe was impressed with her. She was strong, resolute, intelligent. True, she was playing a dangerous game-though just what that game was, Iolanthe could not tell.
The people of Khur love horses. They breed the best in the world, and in order to prove which tribe breeds the finest, tribes race the horses, one against the other, with wagers placed on the outcome.
Iolanthe was starting to wonder if she’d bet her money on the wrong horse.
Iolanthe had noticed something Ariakas had not, something only a woman w
ould see. Kitiara had been in an excellent humor, toying with the imbecile hobgoblin, even as she extracted the information she desired. She had taken pleasure in what Toede had been saying until he had mentioned the name of the elf princess. In an instant, Kitiara’s mood had altered. She had been snickering at Toede one moment, flying into a raging fury the next. The moment she’d felt the piercing bite of jealousy’s sharp tooth. Kitiara was jealous of the elf woman. This meant that one of those assassins was not only in Kitiara’s pay. He was also in her bed.
Iolanthe could have mentioned this to Ariakas. She had no proof, but she did have a quantity of black curls. She decided she would let the horses race on, see how they handled themselves over the distance before she put her money down on one or the other.
8
The Spy. The Rival. itiara did not sleep well that night. She spent half the night lying awake, thinking of Tanis with pleasure one moment and the next cursing his name. When she finally fell asleep, Queen Takhisis visited her dreams, urging her to leave Haven and set off immediately for Dargaard Keep, there to challenge the death knight, Lord Soth. Kit fended off the Queen as best she could and woke with a raging headache. Afraid to fall back asleep, lest her Queen once more accost her, Kit rose early and sought out Commander Grag.
The dawn was gray and raw and cold. A chill drizzling rain had fallen during the night and, though it had stopped, water dripped from the trees, stood in puddles on the muddy ground, and trickled down the sides of the tents. The human soldiers grumbled and complained. The draconians complained, too, but not about the weather. They were angry because they were stuck here doing nothing when they wanted to be out fighting. Kit found the commander making his rounds of the sentry posts.
“Commander,” said Kitiara, falling in alongside the draconian officer, “the Emperor has tasked me with investigating the death of Highlord Verminaard-”
Dragons of the Highlord Skies dc-2 Page 10