Hederick the Theocrat v-4

by Ellen Dodge Severson

  "Olven, think!" Marya persisted, unaware of the battle raging within him. "All we have to do is write one simple line: At that moment, Hederick died. No one will know. The black-robed mage burned out the man's heart this afternoon, for the gods' sake! Who would be surprised if the High Theocrat died? We can even make it a peaceful death, if you want. Hederick can die in his sleep. It's better than he deserves, but if you're squeamish…" "But the Diamond Dragon cured him."

  "We only know that the hole in his chest closed," Marya said quickly. "Perhaps Hederick is meant to die now, Olven. And perhaps we are the ones who are meant to cause it to happen. We could do the gods' work. We could save Krynn!"

  Olven gazed up at Marya. As she watched the younger apprentice's face, the middle-aged woman saw his indecision give way to resolve and then soften again to uncertainty almost immediately.

  "Olven, we have to hurry," she insisted. "You know that Eban wouldn't even consider doing something like this-and who knows what could happen in Solace while Eban is recording events? He won't step in to help; you know that!"

  The scribe met Marya's stare with sudden calm. "Eban isn't due for some time yet. Be quiet, and let me think."

  Fora moment, Marya seemed disposed to argue further. Then she nodded and climbed up on a nearby stool. When Olven resumed writing, she leaned over in sudden excitement. He was merely recording more ofHederick's history in the making, however. She returned to the stool and waited, watching intently.

  Chapter 16

  Tarscenian fumed as he and Mynx stomped along the walkways toward Gaveley's den. "The kender had the Diamond Dragon, and he gave it back. By the Old Gods, Mynx, he gave it back!"

  "It was stolen once, it can be stolen again," Mynx countered stoically. "Limp a bit more. You're not a very convincing beggar when you stride along like a king returning to the palace, old man."

  "And that's another thing," Tarscenian snapped. He did slow his pace and hunch forward, however, earning him an odd stare from a woman selling silk scarves at the junction of two walkways. "Did you have to fasten the hair to my head in tufts? By the gods, I look like I'm in the throes of some noxious disease!"

  "How many beggars do you think are in perfect health?"

  That silenced Tarscenian for a time, but after a while, he began to mutter again. "I almost had it. By Paladine's helm, I almost had it! Now Hederick's going to be more careful than ever. That's twice he almost lost it."

  The vallenwoods were beginning to change color. It looked to be an early autumn, Mynx thought. They stepped past the deserted home of Solace's former mayor, Mendis Vakon.

  "You've got to admit that disguise is convincing. No one has recognized you yet," Mynx said, "not even in that crowd at the temple." Tarscenian grunted grudgingly. "I'll be glad when we get to Gav's den," Mynx went on. "I'm guessing the goblins we've passed aren't out in the sunshine for their health. Goblins hate daylight. There must be quite a price on your head, old man."

  "Hederick hates me." "No kidding. Want to tell me why?" Tarscenian glared at her. "I abandoned his religion, eloped with his mage sister, and have spent the past five decades with her trying to steal his most prized possession."

  Mynx raised her eyebrows as she edged around two goblins, squinting and chattering on the walkway. "That'd do it, I guess."

  They went on in silence. Tarscenian limped, pausing periodically to wave his begging bowl halfheartedly at a passer-by. Mynx walked confidently in her armor and helm, periodically halting to allow Tarscenian to catch up. She rather enjoyed the deference people gave to warriors. They didn't step aside quite so easily for thieves.

  "If there's such a huge price on my head, why haven't you turned me in?" Tarscenian asked after the sixth person had given him and his begging bowl as wide a berth as possible on a four-foot suspended bridge fifty feet above the ground.

  "Gaveley'd have my head," Mynx said matter-of-factly. "I'd be undercutting him. I'm not in a mood to start my own ring of thieves-or find legitimate work. I stay in line."

  "What if Gaveley ordered you to turn me over?" Mynx glowered at another pair of goblins. They appeared not to notice the ferocity of her stare. "He won't," she said. "Gaveley allowed you to remain in his den last night. That means he's honor-bound to treat you as a friend. Gaveley places a high value on honor; he says it comes from his noble blood." She snorted. "Anyway, Gav hates Hederick. He hates everyone with money, but especially religious fanatics with money." She grunted. "Not that I blame him."

  Having reached the southeastern edge of Solace, they made their way to the ground by one of the stairways that circled the vallenwood. A disquieting noise now disturbed the whispering of the vallenwood leaves and pine needles. The sounds of grief and fear halted their steps halfway down the staircase, but they could see nothing untoward.

  "Good gods," Mynx whispered. "What is that?"

  This was more than a lone soul facing heartache- more, even, than a dozen souls. Mynx and Tarscenian exchanged uneasy looks. Her dagger was already in her hand. Her palms were sweaty. Tarscenian's hand had gone to the hilt of his sword under the filthy cloak.

  "We should investigate," Tarscenian whispered.

  "It's none of our concern, old man," Mynx snapped. The vehemence of her remark was surprising.

  "Someone needs help," Tarscenian insisted.

  Mynx shook her head. She could barely speak, her teeth were chattering so hard. "No one's ever helped me, old man. And I don't help anyone. Unless they pay me."

  "You helped me."

  "Gaveley told me to," she snapped. "Don't give me credit for that."

  Then Tarscenian was gone, bounding down the stairs. He raced across a clearing, through an opening in the underbrush, and down a wide, packed-earth pathway lined by pines.

  Mynx stood irresolutely. Then a crow squawked overhead, and she rushed after Tarscenian.

  She caught up with Tarscenian at the edge of a clearing, bounded in slender logs like a corral. But inside milled, not horses, but fifty or so people. Mynx recognized some of them-including the mayor's wife and her four children.

  It was from this crowd of captives that the chorus of muffled sobs, entreaties, and shouts arose. A dozen hobgoblins stood guard outside the fence, and another dozen goblins patrolled the inside of the corral, helping to keep the people packed in a tight circle.

  Mynx and Tarscenian hid in the underbrush of honeysuckle vines and maple saplings, observing the scene.

  Unlike their goblin cousins, who rarely exceeded four feet in height, hobgoblins reached six feet and higher. These beasts were dark gray, with red faces and yellow eyes and teeth. They carried swords, spears, whips, and shields. Mismatched metal armor protected their shoulders, arms, and shins. Leather armor covered their torsos.

  Most of the hobgoblins called to each other in gibberish. However, two spoke to each other and to their captives in a rough form of Abanasinian. Both carried bows. "Sergeant," one said. "We ready move." "We go when I say," the leader snapped back. "Not enough yet. Wait for more."

  "But gets late," the first protested. "Won't get far 'fore sun downs, set camp." The leader responded without a word by pulling a

  dagger and pointing it at the other. The reluctant one slunk away, mumbling, around to the other side of the corral.

  One of the captives, a young man, broke loose from the knot of humans and goblins and tried to vault over the log fence. The sergeant calmly lifted his bow and shot the youth in the chest.

  "Shoulda paid taxes, fool," the sergeant remarked. "Wouldn' be here then." He gestured to the goblins, who swarmed over the body.

  Mynx hid her face in her hands, and Tarscenian put a gentle arm around her shoulder. "We must help them, Mynx/' he whispered.

  She lifted her head. "The two of us against two dozen goblins and hobgoblins? Are you crazy?"

  "All these people did was refuse to pay Hederick's taxes," Tarscenian replied, voice low.

  "What do I care? Thieves don't pay taxes."

  "Don't you see what
's happening? They're being sold into slavery, Mynx!"

  "Not one would lift a finger for me. We're outnumbered, old man."

  "There are fifty people in that ring, at least thirty of them strong men and women. Plus we're armed. That's not being outnumbered."

  "And you think those two-legged sheep will stand with you against hobgoblins?" Mynx laughed out loud. The nearest monster looked over its shoulder into the greenery, frowning, pointed ears atwitch.

  "There's only one way to find out." Tarscenian rushed out of the underbrush, sword at the ready. Without warning, the old man slipped the blade under the hobgoblin's arm and sank it into its rib cage. The creature bellowed and went down, arms and legs churning.

  "Hejami, Tycom, Gret!" the sergeant called to three of his men. "Attack!" The rest of the force remained around

  the slaves. In a moment, Tarscenian was surrounded by three spear-wielding hobgoblins. Mynx watched from the underbrush, barely breathing. She'd stay right here; she didn't owe the stupid old man anything.

  The blue-nosed one called Hejami closed first with Tarscenian. The others held back, poking each other and smiling. They didn't seem to think it would be much of a battle-a full-grown hobgoblin against a tuft-haired beggar-although the beggar did wield that sword with some assurance. The hobgoblin Hejami jabbed at the man with his spear.

  Tarscenian dodged, feinting, and the hobgoblin leaped after him. Tarscenian doubled back and struck. Hejami fell, lifeless, to the ground, blood from his nearly severed neck soaking the ground.

  The other two launched themselves at Tarscenian at the same instant. Tarscenian parried and whirled. As he held off the hobgoblins, he called out to the captives. "Join with me! We can outfight them."

  None of the prisoners moved. If anything, they huddled even closer together. "They might hurt us!" one of the women called.

  "Don't listen to him," a man counseled his fellow slaves. "He's a beggar. We're worth more to the hobgoblins if we're healthy. They won't hurt us as long as we cooperate with them."

  Another woman called, "It's easy for you to order us to help, old man, but we have children to think about!"

  Although Tarscenian brandished the sword as though the weapon were part of him, horror grew on his face.

  "You old fool," Mynx whispered from the honeysuckle vines. "I told y-"

  Then she was dangling in the air, grabbed around the middle by the largest hobgoblin she'd ever seen. Its laughing grimace exposed yellow teeth and a slimy red tongue. The monster jabbered something, then hoisted her over one shoulder, all the while howling with glee. "You big overgrown…"

  She kicked wildly, hoping to catch the beast in the face. Hanging head-downward over his back, she had an excellent view of the dagger she'd dropped, but not much room to maneuver.

  The creature swaggered over to the other hobgoblins. "New slave!" the creature crowed.

  The arms around Mynx's waist tightened suddenly, and she heard a screech from her captor. Then she was falling. In her years as a thief, Mynx had dived out of many windows-most often with enraged homeowners close behind her-and knew how to land on her feet. She caught herself lightly with her hands, then threw herself over into a somersault and rolled away from the dying, gabbling hobgoblin.

  Tarscenian pulled his sword from the creature's middle. He grabbed Mynx by the arm, hauled her to her feet. Then they were off and running, dodging around the other hobgoblin corpses and leaving the slave market behind.

  A pair of hobgoblins and three goblins pursued them along the path. As Mynx and Tarscenian swept around a curve, Tarscenian shouldered her to one side and began to chant. "What are you doing?" Mynx cried, trying to break free.

  "Be still!" Tarscenian snapped. "Yessupot siagod idae." His hands fluttered. He sketched an outline around Mynx from foot to head and back down again to the forest floor. Then he pushed the thief into a bush, crushed a silver aspen leaf between the fingers of his left hand, and shouted, "Nilad ur'sht, yjod wraren, sar ytakreryt." He dived after the real Mynx. A lifelike version of the thief raced down the path just as the pursuers hove into view. "You take it the female!" one of the hobgoblins hollered, pointing to the magic-induced Mynx vanishing down the trail. The other hobgoblin and one of the goblins raced

  after her. That left one hobgoblin and two goblins beating the underbrush in the immediate vicinity.

  Tarscenian shoved the hilt of his dagger into Mynx's hand. "This time," he whispered, "try not to drop it."

  Then he was gone, attacking with an intensity that far belied his years. He dispatched one of the goblins before the creature could raise a squeak, but the other goblin managed a cry.

  "Go get it, more fool!" the hobgoblin yelled at the goblin. "Is order, verminstink!"

  The last goblin hurtled at Tarscenian without pause. It found itself facing two weapons-Tarscenian's sword and Mynx's dagger. Yellow-orange eyes blinking spasmodically, it glanced at Mynx, then at the corpse of its comrade and, frantically, down the path where the other, magical Mynx had gone.

  Then it raced away, abandoning the field to the hobgoblin chief.

  The monster clutched a sword in its right hand, a spear in its left. Tarscenian saw immediately that he and Mynx faced a creature well versed in combat.

  "How close are we to the ring's den?" he hissed to Mynx. Tarscenian slurred his words, hoping the hobgoblin wouldn't understand him. He and Mynx circled the creature.

  "Short run," Mynx answered, mimicking his mumbling.

  "Want to make a dash for it?"

  Tarscenian shook his head. "There'll be no outrunning this thing. Get your fellow thieves, bring help back here. That Xam fellow is big enough to-"

  "No luck, old man. They'll never come."

  Tarscenian growled. "What's a gods-blasted thieves' ring good for, then, if they won't help you when you need it?" His face was pale with exertion.

  "Gav calls the moves," Mynx panted. "We're the players. And I don't think he'd risk the others for a new

  man-someone who isn't even one of us, yet."

  "What about for you?"

  Mynx sidestepped a tree root. "I can leave here at any time, Tarscenian. Can't you tell the beast's after you?"

  Tarscenian looked the hobgoblin in its tiny yellow eyes. The creature waved its sword tauntingly and leered. "Big money," the hobgoblin said. "Bounty fat on ol' funny-looking guy. Hederick plenty mad you, human."

  It was still leering when Mynx landed on its back, looped her arms around its neck, and butted its helmet forward, obstructing its sight. She sliced at its shoulders and neck. The blinded creature howled but continued to slash at Tarscenian with its sword hand, thrusting its spear at him with the other. The double blades formed a whirlwind of steel. Tarscenian tried to sidle to one side, but the creature's hearing must have been acute; even without sight, it followed whichever way Tarscenian moved.

  Then Mynx and her dagger found a crucial artery in the beast's neck.

  "For the Old Gods!" Tarscenian bellowed, and struck at the same time.

  In an instant, the hobgoblin lay on the ground. Its lifeblood pumped out of twin gashes in its neck and side.

  A short time later, Tarscenian and Mynx raced into the thieves' den. Mynx threw herself, gasping, onto the green settee. "By the gods, Gav, Solace is crawling with hobgoblins!" she croaked.

  The half-elf widened his eyes at their disguises, but merely rasped, "Yet you came through all right, I see."

  "Sure, but we had to kill… how many beasts, Tarscenian? Half-dozen goblins and hobgoblins?"

  "About that," Tarscenian said offhandedly. Even though his knees were trembling from the strain he'd been through, he forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply. He stood there, pretending he was no more winded than a young man would be, and shrugged

  casually.

  "It's over now," Tarscenian said. "I want Gaveley's answer. "Will you and your ring help me steal the Diamond Dragon from Hederick?"

  The half-elf looked at Tarscenian across the crystal rim o
f a wine goblet. Gaveley was dressed with his usual flair, this time in scarlet leather breeches and black silk shirt, a white silk scarf knotted at his slender throat. He was smiling, but his tilted hazel eyes hinted danger. "I've reviewed your request, old man," he whispered. "I believe we will pass it by."

  There was a short pause before Mynx exploded in protest. "Why, Gav? Stealing the thing would be a great way to get Hederick's goat! You hate him; we all do. He's killing our business. With taxes so high, no one has anything worthwhile to steal. Why not go along with Tarscenian? I'd help him steal it, and you all know I'm the best thief here. This dragon thing's worth a fortune!" She looked at each of the three thieves in turn. "We all could practically retire," she finished, trying to make a joke.

  Gaveley snarled. "It's my decision, Mynx. Accept it or leave." Xam and Snoop nodded in tandem. Tarscenian frowned, his gray gaze flicking from Gaveley to Mynx.

  Mynx looked startled. "Leave? But I grew up in this ring, Gav."

  "And I taught you from the start that in Gaveley's ring…"

  "… Gaveley's word is law," she finished. She pulled her helm from her head, and pushed her hand back through her newly blond hair. She looked at Tarscenian. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "I won't go against the group. I don't dare."

  Tarscenian's expression didn't change. "Like the slaves," he whispered. "What did you call them, Mynx- sheep?"

  "That's not fair," she flared. "It's not the same thing at all!"

  "Isn't it?" Wordless, Tarscenian bowed slightly to Gaveley, then moved the statue of the harpist as he'd seen the others do, and left. He managed to look dignified despite his angry feelings and beggarly disguise.

  "Go out the back," Gaveley rasped at Snoop. "Keep him in sight but don't let him see you. If the temple guards accost him within Erolydon, make as if you're delivering him to Hederick. Then at least we'll get the bounty, if not the Diamond Dragon. We can always steal that later."

  "And if he gets the Diamond Dragon?"

  "Steal it from him," Gaveley whispered. "Then kill him. Present the old man's head to Hederick. Then we'll still get the bounty."