Hederick the Theocrat v-4

by Ellen Dodge Severson

  Mynx leaped up. "Gaveley!" She tore at his arm. "What happened to honor? You were always so proud that you were more honorable than the rich people. Remember, Gav?"

  He shoved her away. "I'm a thief, Mynx. And I'm not human. What use to me is a human idea like honor?"

  "But… but elves have honor, too," she stammered.

  "Neither elves nor humans recognize my noble lineage," he spat. "Better to throw in my lot with someone who at least will give me some money, if not respect."

  She stared at him, then at Xam, who was watching the exchange from the back doorway. Her gaze, now disgusted, went back to the half-elf. "You've gone in with Hederick, Gav? Is that it? After we decided not to?"

  "You decided not to, Mynx," Gaveley whispered. "The rest of us…"

  Mynx turned to Xam. The bounty-hunter shrugged. "It's a job," he said. "Hederick's no worse than anyone

  else we've worked for, Mynx." The big man's eyes took on a pleading look, like a dog's. "Honest, Mynx. It's better to go in with us on this."

  "But Hederick is crazy," she whispered. "Tarscenian is… is good."

  "Since when do thieves care about good?" Gaveley whispered. He motioned to Xam, who lumbered across the room toward Mynx.

  "I'm sorry, Mynx," the large man said. "There's a reward for you, too. A small one, but every bit counts these days."

  "A reward?" Her voice cracked. She took a step backward and found herself pinioned by the half-elf.

  "Hederick doesn't like it when people refuse his offers," Gaveley snapped in her ear. "Xam, we have work to do. Take care of her."

  Her mind screamed for her to struggle, to run, but her body refused to obey. She merely watched, stunned, as Xam raised a meaty hand. He was a bounty-hunter, skilled at subduing his quarry. The blow struck the side of her neck. Her knees buckled, and she fell unconscious to the floor.

  A short time later, Kifflewit crept through the back entrance of the thieves' den, busy hands replacing his lockpicking tools in one of his pouches. "Certainly dark in here," he whispered to himself. "Maybe Mynx is sleeping."

  He'd seen Gaveley, then Xam and Snoop, and finally Mynx and Tarscenian enter the den. All but Mynx had emerged. Kifflewit wanted one last look at the splendors of Gaveley's den before he left Solace. The temple guards, still failing to show any sign of humor, had been dogging his steps. He'd managed to keep away from them, but even a kender grows tired of some games.

  Mynx had been adamant about keeping him out of the thieves' den, the kender remembered. But if she were sleeping… Kifflewit brightened. Perhaps he could sneak a peek without waking her up.

  "Surely one small light won't disturb her sleep," he reassured himself. Still standing in the doorway, he felt in his pockets for steel and flint, and scraped some lint from the bottom of a pocket. The first time he struck stone and steel together, he heard an immediate groan in the darkness before him and jumped. The steel went clattering away into the darkness. Another groan. Had he awakened Mynx?

  Kifflewit felt in his pockets, one by one, for more steel. His slender fingers found nothing helpful until he reached into one particular pocket. Light streamed from the pocket-sparkly, swirling light. "How pretty!" he breathed. His restless fingers drew out the Diamond Dragon. It was just the size of his hand. He'd never seen it in the dark before, and the artifact was all aglow. He could barely see the outline of the dragon, the diamonds glittered so brightly.

  "It must be magical!" he said softly.

  Another groan resounded through the den. Kifflewit raised the Diamond Dragon above his head and stepped carefully inside. The artifact's glow bathed him in light.

  "Perhaps it's not Mynx," he whispered. "Perhaps it's a really interesting monster." He'd heard about plenty of beasts that lived underground. Some cave crawlers were even poisonous. He wondered what it would feel like to be eaten alive. If the thing ate the Diamond Dragon along with him, would he be able to see the crawler's insides? That would be something! Mmmmmmnnfjf?

  "You! Are you a cave crawler?" he shouted. Mmmmmmnnjff?

  "Mynx?"

  Mmmmmmnnfff.

  If one muffled Mmmmmmnnfff! could convey rage, frustration, and fear, this one did. It was sounding less and less like a cave crawler, Kifflewit Burrthistle thought. He shuffled forward in the darkness, holding the Diamond Dragon higher in order to cast the largest possible circle of light.

  Then a tousled head of blond hair, angry brown eyes, and a gagged mouth came into view.

  "Mynx? Why do you look like that? Why's your hair yellow? I liked it dark. And why are you wearing armor? Aren't you a thief anymore? Are you a mercenary now?"

  Mmmmmmnnfff1.

  He held the Diamond Dragon close to her furious face. "See? I found this in the temple. Isn't it pretty?"

  Mynx stared daggers at him. The kender's eyes were wide and innocent. "What's the matter?" he asked.

  Mmmunnnpie mmmmmmeeee, mooooo mbiddllle pfoool! came through the gag.

  "You're awfully hard to understand with that rag…" Kifflewit set to work loosening the restraint, while Mynx continued to gnash at the cloth with her teeth. The kender chattered merrily on. "The High Theocrat mustn't care much for this dragon thing or he wouldn't have let it lie around. I think I'm doing him a favor by taking care of it, don't you?"

  The gag was gone. "You idiot!" Mynx cried. "That's the Diamond Dragon!"

  The kender blinked. "Well, sure."

  "Tarscenian thinks Hederick still has it!"

  "Oh. Well, there's nothing to worry about. It's safe with me."

  "Untie me, you little fool," she snapped.

  "You don't have to be rude. After all…" He reached over Mynx to her hip, plucked Tarscenian's dagger from her sheath, and, still talking animatedly, severed the cord that bound her wrists and ankles.

  Mynx's mind raced. Tarscenian had no clue that the thieves were after him. And of course he had no idea that the kender possessed the Diamond Dragon.

  Kifflewit Burrthistle prattled on, dangling the Diamond Dragon in front of Mynx's face as though it were some mere bauble. The glow caught her attention. For a moment Mynx forgot everything but the radiance that came from within the precious stones. Suddenly everything made sense. Tarscenian wasn't after this thing in order to sell it, she realized. He was going to use its magical powers against Hederick.

  She had to take the artifact to him before he tried to get inside the temple. Only then would he have a chance against the High Theocraf s forces and Gav's thieves.

  "Give me that, kender!" she shouted, lunging for the artifact.

  Kifflewit squealed, "It's mine! I found it!"

  Kender and human hands fought for possession of the Diamond Dragon.

  "Tarscenian needs it!"

  "But I found it!" the kender howled.

  "He could defeat Hederick!"

  "No fair! It's mine!"

  They tussled on the carpet. The Diamond Dragon seesawed back and forth. The artifact spat tiny bolts of lightning around the den, burning holes in the tapestries. It began to hum. Neither woman nor kender realized what was happening; the object they were fighting over had become a glowing ball of steel-cold fire.

  "Tarscenian needs it!"

  "I found it!"

  "It could stop the Seekers!"

  "It's mine!"

  Szzzzezmetoffffalgolorum!

  The loud, strange sound came from the Diamond Dragon itself. The kender let go and fell back, brown eyes agog. Mynx crowed triumphantly, cradling the trophy to her breast. She stroked it, exulting in its possession. She would find Tarscenian… Szzzzezmetoffff algolorum!

  The second burst of sound and light penetrated Mynx's triumph. Magic-from the thing itself? Sudden terror drenched her. She tried to throw the Diamond Dragon away from her. It refused to let go.

  The Diamond Dragon clung to her hands, humming louder. There was no pain-only a coldness that extended from her hands up through her elbows.

  And then she realized that her hands were inside the artifact.
Even as she watched, the Diamond Dragon absorbed more of her. She could see her hands, then her wrists and forearms, moving frantically inside the thing. She still could control her movements, but her hands were shrinking. She placed one booted foot and then the other against the thing, to brace herself and wrench her arms free.

  Then her feet were sucked in, too. "Kifflewit!" Mynx shouted. "Help me!" But the kender could only gape at her, wide-eyed. The coldness shot like a catapult up her arms and legs. It froze her torso and reached her head. And then she was inside the Diamond Dragon. Smooth crystal curved around her, impervious to her pounding and kicking. Mynx raged within the dragon as the kender stared at the thing from without. She was miniature enough now, within the artifact, to stand in Kifflewit's hand. Clearly he could see her tiny figure dancing inside the Diamond Dragon. Couldn't he? She could hear the kender. Could he hear her? Mynx cried out, but Kifflewit merely gazed at the Diamond Dragon from every angle. He picked it up, shook it-throwing Mynx to her knees-and put it down again. "I wonder where she went?" the kender said softly. "What a terrific trick!" He glanced around, as though he might find Mynx peering out from under a table or settee.

  Inevitably, the kender's attention wandered, and he abandoned the artifact on the carpet as he poked through the den. Gaveley's den had numerous gems and objects of special interest to a glitter-loving kender. AH went into his pouches and pockets.

  Then Mynx and the artifact that imprisoned her were snatched up and tucked back in a bulging kender pocket, too. She could sense movement; Kifflewit was scampering off somewhere. Mynx sat down on the curved crystal floor of the Diamond Dragon to avoid falling again.

  She rested her head on her arms. "Oh, Tarscenian," she whispered. "You're heading into danger for nothing." Here she was, trapped within the only object that could help him, and she couldn't do a thing.

  She rode for some time in Kifflewit's pocket, hearing only the muffled sounds of the market and occasional yelps from angry guards. Twice the kender began to run and continued until the shouting died away.

  Then a new voice spoke, quite near. "Ah, 'tis thee, small one. What dost thou want of me? I am in haste. I have no time to stop and natter with thee, yet thou saved my life back at the temple. What dost thou want, kender?"

  It was the centaur she'd seen in the refugee section, Mynx realized.

  "The guards are after me," came Kifflewit's stifled reply. "I need to hitch a ride out of Solace."

  "Small one, that I can grant thee, in gratitude for thy service. I am bound for my home glade, to apprise my people of the coming danger."

  Mynx braced herself against the insides of the Diamond Dragon as Kifflewit Burrthistle clambered up onto the centaur's back. The man-horse settled into the rocking gait that could cover many leagues, seemingly without great effort.

  The centaur and Kifflewit soon left Solace far behind.

  Chapter 17

  As Tarscenian worked his tray back through Solace, he regularly stooped and held out his bowl to passers-by.

  "Alms?" he would quaver from the depths of his hood, detesting the pitiable tone he had to adopt. The slow pace galled him, too. He wanted nothing more than to throw off his beggar's cloak, yank the tufts of hair from their glued moorings, and race into Erolydon with sword drawn to challenge Hederick directly. "Directly and honestly," he muttered.

  Solace's residents sidestepped the surly beggar with neither word nor offer of aid.

  Tarscenian's disguise was holding up well. Hederick's goblins and guards didn't give him a second look. He slunk past a few more sword-carrying hobgoblins and caught enough of their garbled words to realize that the slave caravan had left Solace without further incident. Tarscenian forced himself to focus on the task at hand- to find Hederick, who rarely left Erolydon, and steal the Diamond Dragon or die in the effort. But how to enter the temple?

  Twice Tarscenian felt suddenly uneasy, as though he were being observed. Each time, he paused to fumble in his cloak, mumbling and weaving as though he were daft or physically ill. The gray eyes hidden in the shadowed cloak missed little, but Tarscenian saw no evidence that guards, goblins, or anyone else scrutinized him. There were only the usual late-afternoon refugees and excited pilgrims, brown-robed priests and the sellers of temple offerings, and dozens of common people. Down below he saw farmers unloading barrels from wagons, and a half-dozen fishermen and women hawking Crys-talmir bass and perch from tub-laden carts with huge wooden wheels.

  He paused to catch his breath. He was showing signs of increasing fatigue. Sometimes it seemed as though his mind were whirling in circles. He'd had no time to study the little magic he knew, and the spells he'd used in the previous days were long gone from his memory.

  Then Tarscenian raised his eyebrows and forced his brain to clear. He had no difficulty making himself sag into an even more beggarly stance.

  There was one stairway within sight. And at the bottom of the steps that twined around the nearest vallen-wood, Dahos, Hederick's high priest, stood behind the fishmongers. The high priest surveyed the scene with an air of proprietorship. It wasn't only the tall priest who caught Tarscenian's eye, but the ring on his right hand. Tarscenian squinted, leaning over the railing of the walkway.

  Dahos wore the death's-head ring.

  I stole it. Mynx gave Dahos's ring to Gaveley last night, he thought. And now Dahos has it back.

  That meant one thing: the half-elf had done more than turn down Tarscenian's proposal.

  Gaveley had sold him out to Hederick's forces.

  Tarscenian glanced behind him, starting to edge backward as Dahos, with a jerk of his head, summoned a blue-uniformed captain. The high priest bent down to speak quietly to the man. The captain nodded, saluting crisply. The captain hustled over to a pair of goblins.

  Tarscenian paused. Then he sank to his knees and pretended to look for something on the walkway. His hands plunged into his cloak to search through his pouches.

  "Hurry, hurry," he whispered to himself. Soon he was using blood-red sand to outline a fish on the boards of the walkway. Another fish, the size of his hand, joined the first, and then another. "Pesqi d'armotage, oberit getere," he murmured. A shout rang out below. Tarscenian hurried to finish. "Getilin ornest gadillio dehist."

  "There he is! Up there!" a man's voice shouted from below.

  "Pesqi d'armotage, oberit getere. Getilin ornest gadillio dehist!" Tarscenian finished the chant, then used both hands to whirl the sand figures into oblivion. The guards' shouts below turned into oaths as Tarscenian's spell overturned six carts full of slippery fish and water between the guards and their prey.

  Most of Dahos's men lost their footing amid the flopping fish and cursed loudly. A few goblins, unhampered by hard footwear, made it to the steps. But Tarscenian was already on his feet and racing away to the north.

  After several months of Seeker reign, Solace residents were used to fugitives fleeing along the wooden walks in front of their treetop homes. They stayed invisible behind their doors, assisting no one.

  This walkway connected with another. Tarscenian chose the path that would take him northwest toward the lake. This area contained only homes, no shops or open markets. It was deserted now. Ropes were laced from branch to branch, many of them draped with drying clothes.

  Tarscenian glanced back. A hobgoblin was thirty paces behind him, two goblins following.

  Three temple guards stood fifty paces ahead, pikes set on the wooden boards of the walkway, smiles broad under their helms. His pursuers had him cornered, fifty feet above the ground.

  Tarscenian could see the lowering sun glittering on Crystalmir Lake behind the guards. The lake was but a short distance away, yet it might as well have been leagues distant for all the good it did him now.

  To add annoyance, some Solace housewife had stretched her laundry across the walkway. Tarscenian was forced to slap aside dripping shirts, socks, and bedding as he watched the guards and goblins edge forward. The sheets flapped like huge wings.

&nbs
p; "Wings!" Tarscenian said suddenly. Did he know a flying spell? He drew his sword to worry the approaching foes. "A flying spell," he hissed. "Think, Tarscenian! By the Old Gods, if only Ancilla were here!"

  He focused intensely on the memory of the white-robed mage. Had she been a goddess, his call would have been a prayer. "Ancilla!" An answering murmur rose within Tarscenian's mind, teased him, and died. "Ancilla!" If she could hear him, could she dispatch a spell?

  Again the teasing sensation, as though a hibernating animal stirred within his mind. "Ancilla!"

  My… My love?

  "Ancilla, I'm trapped. They will capture me unless…"

  The guards and goblins were short paces away. The hobgoblin pounded one of the goblins on the head with a mailed fist as though they shared an obvious joke.

  "See! Old man crazyfool," the hobgoblin chortled. "Talk-talk self. Stuck now. Bounty bounty." The goblin, rearranging its helmet, continued its approach, crouching behind its bigger cousin.

  "Ancilla…"

  Tarscenian… I… The voice died away, then returned as though communicating drained almost every iota of the mage's energy. I have…no…1 cannot…

  The hobgoblin leaped.

  Tarscenian sliced through the air with his sword. The weapon severed, not the hobgoblin's neck, but the laundry rope between them. Tarscenian lunged for the rope, caught it with his left hand, and swung over the railing.

  "Pray Paladine it's well tied at the other end," the man gasped on the way down.

  Tarscenian arced through the open space that separated Solace's border from a few scrub pines at the edge of the lake. Sheets, pillowcovers, and knit socks cascaded through the air.

  The captain of the guard was waiting for him on the ground, flanked by six men. Each flourished swords and spears.

  "For the Old Gods!" Tarscenian bellowed, swinging his sword wildly. The guards threw themselves to the dirt as Tarscenian hurtled directly toward them, but they were not quick enough. Tarscenian managed to sever the arm of one and the hand of another. A third guard fell unconscious when he was clouted in the head by Tarscenian's boots.