The gnome sat and nodded to Elder Qelvyn. The fat merman opened a small chest and began pulling out scrolls. He placed three copies of the treaty on the table in front of them. Witch Sorell then sat. As did the Stranger, though he winced slightly as he leaned back in the chair.
Xedrion continued to stand. The standards of propriety that he was raised with told him that he should leave in the face of such insulting behavior. Nevertheless, the people of his nation were looking to him hoping for peace. He looked to his wife.
His first marriage hadn’t been for love. Xedrion’s father had negotiated for Herlda’s hand with the Shuns as a political move. As such, theirs had never been a passionate union, but over the years they had developed a close trust and friendship. He respected her opinion and kept her close whenever large decisions loomed.
Herlda looked just as infuriated with the situation as he was, but she gave him a brief nod. “We came all the way here to negotiate. Let us not waste the time.”
“I agree,” said Tolynn.
Xedrion forced himself to let go of his outrage and the three of them sat.
“I am so happy to see that you are willing to talk,” Aloysius said, clasping his hands together. At that moment the Stranger coughed weakly and the gnome looked at him as if he had forgot the man was there. “Oh. I apologize. With all the tension, I forgot to introduce the fourth member of our party.”
“I know him. We have met once before,” Xedrion replied. The Stranger had come to Roo-Tan’lan to introduce himself when Xedrion had first become protector. It wasn’t a pleasant social call. He had wanted assurances that Xedrion’s people would stay out of a certain area of the Troll Swamps. “Greetings, Matthew. A friend of mine tells me that Warlord Aloysius has you under his control.”
The Stranger gave him a wan smile in return and Xedrion looked to the gnome for an explanation. If the protector’s knowledge of the situation surprised the gnome, he didn’t show it.
“Under my control? Nonsense. He’s the Stranger.” Aloysius addressed the man in a commanding tone. “Matthew, tell this man that I am your master.”
“I will not,” the Stranger replied, his voice weary.
“You see?” Aloysius said.
Xedrion narrowed his eyes. “Matthew, if he isn’t controlling you, what are you doing here? When did you begin to take sides in negotiations?”
“I am not here to take sides,” the Stranger replied. “I am merely here as a witness.”
“A witness to what?” Xedrion asked.
“That I cannot yet say,” Matthew replied. “My mind is still a bit clouded. I have a ways to go to win back the approval of my master.”
“Are you finished?” Aloysius asked the Stranger and from the sound of his voice he hadn’t expected the man to talk.
“Yes, Warlord,” Matthew replied obediently and Xedrion wondered for a moment if the man had gone crazy.
The gnome smiled again. “Now, let us get to business. Please open the scrolls before you. I believe the decision to sign will not be so difficult.”
Justan watched the goings on from the top of the valley, his thoughts filled with concern. With the canvas top in the way, he could only see Xedrion’s side of the group and only from the waist down. Jhonate did not know the content of the discussions but from what she had told him through the ring so far, her father was not pleased.
He stepped closer to Gwyrtha and reached out to scratch her behind the ears. “Can you hear anything, girl?”
Too many people in the way, she replied. Everyone is whispering.
This was the part of the day he had been dreading. The waiting. So much of his life lately had been waiting. Waiting through endless meetings with Jhonate’s father. Waiting to get married. Fist was up in the mountains facing off against some horrible evil force and he was standing around waiting while important decisions were made.
“You have a sour face,” observed the voice of a young girl.
Justan looked and saw that it was the elf child that Tarah Woodblade’s rogue horse liked to parade around as. She was a mischievous thing, tending to pop around at random times, startling people. The servants in the palace were certain she was a ghost. Justan thought her antics were kind of cute.
“Hello, Esmine,” he said. “I just wish I knew what was going on down there.”
She popped out of existence and reappeared in Gwyrtha’s saddle. “I know what they’re saying. But I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”
Deathclaw hissed in annoyance. “That thing again. Do not talk to her. She finds it encouraging.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Scaley,” the little girl said and stuck her tongue out at him.
Justan glanced over to where Tarah Woodblade was standing and saw that she was talking to the exact same girl child. Whatever it was that she was saying was making Tarah quite angry. So she could appear several places at once. Maybe she really was able to monitor what was going on down in the meeting. How interesting.
“Hey, be nice Deathclaw,” Justan admonished. I want to see if she really knows what they are saying. He turned his attention back to the girl. “Why aren’t you supposed to tell anyone?”
Esmine lowered her voice to a whisper. “Because then people would know that I know.”
Justan decided to play along. He whispered back, “Well now I know that you know because you just whispered it to me. Will you please tell me what they are saying?”
She glanced around conspiratorially, then leaned down towards his ear and whispered, “No.” she sat back in the saddle and lifted her nose up at him. “Besides, I don’t have time. You have a visitor.”
“What?” he asked.
“Sir Edge!”
Justan turned around to see Aldie, son of Lance running in from the tree line to the west of the valley. The academy student had been out with the Roo-Tan scouts. “What is it?”
The young man stopped in front of him, breathing heavy. “We found a creature in the grass just west of here. She says that she is looking for you.”
“A creature?” Justan said in surprise.
Aldie scratched his head and let out an embarrassed laugh. “You probably won’t believe this, but it’s a gorc in a dress.”
Chapter Twenty Five
“A gorc? In a dress?” Justan asked.
“And a wig?” said Aldie with an apologetic shrug. “I know it sounds crazy. The Roo-Tan were just as surprised as me. They usually kill goblinoids on sight, but it was just so strange and it started asking for you.”
“Why me?” He looked up at Esmine’s child-like illusion that was still sitting on Gwyrtha’s saddle. “Is this your doing? Are you playing a game?”
“Nope,” the little girl said and disappeared.
Deathclaw hissed and approached Aldie. “I have seen one like this before. Where do you have it?”
“Just west of here back the way I came. In the trees,” the man said.
“You’ve seen a gorc in a dress?” Justan asked the raptoid.
“In the war. Durza, remember?” the raptoid replied.
Justan’s eyes widened and he nodded. Deathclaw had told him of the day he had gone to Pinewood with Beth, Hilt, and Charz, and had found a gorc with bewitching magic hidden in the mayor’s house. She had been living there with Talon, but the raptoid had already gone before they arrived. “You didn’t tell me she wore a dress.”
The raptoid shrugged. “I did not think it important.
Tarah Woodblade jogged over to them. “Esmine says that you have an unexpected visitor?”
“You could say that,” Justan replied and said to Deathclaw, “It seems an odd coincidence that Durza should show up here and now, don’t you think?”
“Talon could be involved,” Deathclaw said, with a mix of dread and anticipation.
The raptoid had searched diligently for her right after the war. He and Justan had even gone back to Pinewood to question Durza further in case Talon had returned, but the gorc had disappeared. The Pinewood refu
gees had returned home to find the mayor’s house depleted of stores, but strangely tidy.
“Who is Talon?” Tarah asked.
“Deathclaw’s sister,” Justan replied. “She’s a deadly assassin. She worked for the Ewzad Vriil during the war. She killed a very close friend of mine.”
Tarah’s face grew concerned. “Aloysius is up to something in the meeting. If there’s an assassin around I worry that this may be part of his next ploy.”
“But why involve me?” Justan wondered. The Dark Prophet had sent the night beast after him. Could he have sent Talon too? But why show up now? It did seem a bit too convenient not to have something to do with the meeting. He gave Tarah a questioning look. “I know that Esmine has been listening in. What has the gnome done so far?”
Tarah frowned. “He says that he is the ruler of the Mer-Dan now and has told the protector that they will attack unless he signs the treaty.”
Justan nodded slowly. He had worried something like this would happen. “We have a swift retreat plan in place if that attack should happen.” He looked to Deathclaw. “We should go and see what the gorc has to say.”
Me too, said Gwyrtha.
“I’ll come with you,” Tarah said. “I can tell you if it is being truthful. Esmine will let us know if something happens at the meeting.”
They followed Aldie into the trees and Justan related Deathclaw’s encounter with Durza briefly to Tarah. “She had been hiding from the moonrat mother and using bewitching magic to keep moonrats and trolls away. She wasn’t evil, though. Beth was nice to her, right, Deathclaw. You stayed there a couple days, didn’t you?”
“Charz liked her,” Deathclaw replied with something akin to disgust. “He wanted to bring her with us, but Beth said she was supposed to stay behind.”
Tarah looked confused by that statement. “But if Beth didn’t think she was a danger, it doesn’t make sense for her to be mixed up in something evil here.”
“You have a point, but I don’t see how her appearance in Malaroo could mean anything good,” Justan replied.
They didn’t have to go far. Two Roo-Tan scouts had forced the gorc to kneel in a small clearing. One of them had the point of a Jharro sword pointed at her chest, while the other had an arrow drawn and ready to fire.
Durza wore a badly stained blue dress and wore a curly blond wig with bits of twigs and leaves stuck in it. Like most gorcs, her skin was a leathery mottled green, but her cheeks were covered in an obscene amount of rouge and her lips had been painted pink.
Upon seeing her, Deathclaw rushed in, one hand gripping her by the throat. “Where is Talon, gorc?”
The gorc’s eyes bulged. “Ack! Death . . . Claws! Don’t hurt . . . Durza! I’m . . . friend, ‘member me?”
“Don’t hurt her, Deathclaw,” said Justan. “We don’t know that she’s done anything wrong.”
The raptoid released her with a hiss and sniffed at his hand. “She stinks!”
“That’s my perfoom!” Durza said with a frown. The gorc clutched her throat. “Wanted to smell nice. Why you scratchedes me? Don’t wanna talk to you no ways. I comes to talk to Sir Edge.”
“We will take charge of her,” said Justan to the two Roo-Tan scouts. “You can go back to your work. You too, Aldie.”
The two scouts stepped back and lowered their weapons. Justan didn’t have any authority over them, but they knew who he was and the creature was just a lowly gorc. They nodded and headed off into the trees, Aldie trotting reluctantly after them.
“I’m Sir Edge,” Justan said. He walked towards Durza but didn’t get too close in case there was some kind of trick. Deathclaw, Gwyrtha, keep your senses sharp in case there’s anyone else nearby.
I don’t smell anyone else but the gorc, Gwyrtha said, but she prowled the perimeter of the clearing anyway.
“You are Sir Edge?” Durza said hopefully. She stood, adjusting her wig and brushing off the skirts of her dress. “I am Durza. I’m a good friend. My master tells me to find you.”
“Why?” Justan said. “Who is your master?”
“My master is the Stranger man,” she replied.
Justan frowned.
“The Stranger is in the meeting with the protector right now. He seems to be on Aloysius’ side,” Tarah said.
“No!” said Durza. “He taked him!”
“I will find out the truth here.” Tarah approached the gorc, reaching out her hand.
“It might not be wise to touch her,” Justan warned. “We don’t know-.”
Tarah gripped the gorc’s shoulder. She gasped, her eyes wide.
“Whatchoo doin’?” Durza said, drawing back in alarm. “That’s my brains!”
Tarah stepped back letting out a slow breath. She swallowed. “She’s telling the truth. She and Deathclaw’s sister have been living with the Stranger for months. Talon came here with her. She’s around here somewhere.”
“It’s over here!” said the child-like voice of Esmine.
The little elf girl had appeared and was pointing up to a large leafy tree. Deathclaw was there in a rush. He shot up the tree.
Watch out for her tail! The world slowed down for Justan.
He saw Deathclaw lash out at a shadow near the trunk. There was a tussle, a flurry of hisses and both raptoids fell breaking branches as they went. Talon was wearing a black robe that glowed a dull gray to his spirit sight. He caught a glimpse of her frightening face as the two raptoids crashed to the ground in a tangle.
Somehow Talon broke free and rolled to her feet. She let out a plaintive chirp and held out both hands, her claws spread wide. “Sstop! My masster ssends me!”
Deathclaw’s sword rang clear from its sheath. “You will not get away this time!”
“No!” said Durza. “Don’t hurts her!”
He came at her and swung his sword. She ducked under the blow and rolled to the side, narrowly missing the follow-up slash of his tail barb.
Justan kept pace with them, his own swords drawn. Peace sucked away at his emotion, but he pushed the power of the sword away. He wanted his anger right now. Talon had killed Master Coal and he wanted that thought burning bright. Strangely enough, the sword obeyed. He looked for an opening.
“I am not here to kill!” Talon insisted, staying just out of Deathclaw’s reach.
Deathclaw maneuvered around her, forcing her between him and Justan. Gwyrtha growled ready to leap. Stay back! Justan warned. You’re too big a target for her poison.
“She’s telling the truth,” Tarah said, torn as she watched the encounter. She had drawn her bow and had an arrow fitted to the string just in case they needed her. “At least Durza thinks so.”
“If that’s true, Talon, then stand still!” Justan commanded.
Talon stopped and threw back her hood. Her head was shaped like a human female’s but bald and earless, covered in fine gray scales. Her eyes were those of a cat’s. She had two slits for a nose and a large mouth with luscious feminine lips. They drew back as she hissed with hesitation and Justan’s own lips drew back in a snarl as her razor sharp teeth came into view. He had seen that face in nightmares.
“Hold out your tail!” he snapped.
The base of her robe lifted and her tail slid into view. At Justan’s mental command, Deathclaw’s sword flashed, lopping off the end of her tail. The barb hit the ground, a bead of clear liquid dripping from the tip. Talon sucked in a breath.
“Noo!” wailed Durza again and a wave of compulsion swept over the clearing, demanding that everyone drop their weapons.
Tarah fell to her knees, her bow dropping from her fingers. Justan felt the power of the magic battering against the bond. His hands loosened on his swords. Deathclaw hissed as he resisted the spell.
Gwyrtha acted. She struck the gorc, pinning Durza to the ground with her powerful claws. The gorc cried out.
“Sstop, Durza!” Talon demanded, pointing a long clawed finger. Durza whimpered, but dropped the attack
“Don’t hurt her, Gwyrtha,” J
ustan said and the rogue horse backed off, growling.
Talon opened up her robe and let it drop to the ground. Her form was smooth and gray. Scaled, but feminine in shape, Ewzad Vriil’s evil work. “Leave her be. Killss me if you must. Masster ssays not to let you killss me. But do it if you musst! I am broken. He triess to fix me. The Prophet triess to fix me. I try! But it iss hard. To die iss best! Durza can tellss you the message.”
The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) Page 43