Dragonlance 08 - Dragons of the Highlord Skies (10 page)

Kitiara began to think she had underestimated the hobgoblin. Perhaps Toede
was
a military genius.

Kitiara looked forward to meeting the Fewmaster, but the pleasure was delayed. No one, it seemed, knew where he was. A draconian dispatched a messenger to fetch the Fewmaster, telling Kitiara the Fewmaster was either perfecting his skills with the bow on the firing range, or drilling soldiers in the parade yard. The draconian said all this in the mixture of Common and military argot typically used by soldiers of mixed races. The draco added a comment in his own language to another draco, apparently under the assumption she would not understand, because both grinned widely.

As it happened, Kitiara’s own personal bodyguard was made up of sivak draconians. She considered it would never do to have subordinates—especially those on whom her life depended—talking in an unknown tongue behind her back, so she had learned their draconic language.

Kitiara heard, therefore, that the draconians had not sent a messenger to either the parade ground or the archery range. The draconians had sent the messenger to the Red Slipper, one of Haven’s most notorious bawdy houses.

Kitiara was escorted to the Fewmaster’s headquarters. Inside, she found half the tent jammed with pieces of furniture, rugs, and knick-knacks that had probably been stolen. The other side of the tent was neat and orderly. Weapons of various types were stacked along one side. A large map, spread out on the dirt floor, showed the positions of the different armies. Kitiara was standing over the map, studying it, when a draconian lifted the tent flap and entered. She recognized the draconian officer she had met in Ariakas’s office.

“Commander Grag,” she said.

“I am sorry I wasn’t on hand to welcome you properly, Highlord,” the bozak said, standing rigidly at attention, eyes forward. “We were not informed you were coming.”

“I did that deliberately, Commander,” she said. “I wanted to see the army when it wasn’t dressed up for show. Warts and all, so to speak, which terms seems appropriate when speaking of your Fewmaster.”

The commander’s eyes flickered, but he did not shift his gaze. “We have sent for the Fewmaster, Highlord. He is out in the field—”

“—practicing his thrusts and parries,” suggested Kitiara slyly.

Commander Grag finally relaxed. “You could say that, Highlord.” He paused, regarded her intently. “You speak draconic, don’t you?”

“Enough to get by. Please, sit down.”

Grag cast the fragile chairs of elf make a disparaging glance. “Thank you, Highlord, but I prefer to stand.”

“It’s probably safer,” Kitiara agreed wryly. “You know why I’m here, Commander.”

“I have a good idea, yes, my lord.”

“I’m to recommend someone to become the new Highlord. You impressed the emperor, Grag.”

The draconian bowed.

“Would you like the job?” Kitiara asked.

Grag did not hesitate. “No, Highlord, but thank you for considering me.”

“Why not?” Kitiara asked with genuine curiosity.

Grag hesitated.

“You may speak freely,” she assured him.

“I am a fighter, Highlord, not a politician,” Grag answered. “I want to lead men in battle, not spend my time groveling to those in power. No offense intended, Highlord.”

“I understand,” said Kitiara, and she sighed. “Believe me, I do understand. So you do the soldiering and this Fewmaster Toede does the groveling.”

“The Fewmaster is quite good at his job, Highlord,” said Grag with a straight face.

At this moment, the Fewmaster came blundering through the tent opening. Catching sight of Kitiara, Toede rushed up to her. The first words out of his yellow mouth proved the truth of Grag’s assessment.

“Highlord, forgive me for not being here to welcome you,” the hobgoblin gasped. “These dolts”—he cast a furious glance at the commander—“did not inform me you were coming!”

Kit had encountered hobgoblins before. She’d even fought a few before the war began. She had no use for goblins, who could be counted on to turn tail and run the minute the fighting got tough, but she’d come to respect hobgoblins, who were bigger, uglier, and smarter than their cousins.

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.