by Joel Babbitt
Raoros’ countenance changed. For a moment, uncertainty passed over the muscular warrior’s face. He looked sidelong at his chief elite warrior. Troll just looked at him without understanding. Then an idea struck Raoros, and he spoke.
“Durik,” Raoros said after a brief pause. “You’re young, but I’m sure you can see that there are problems in our gen.”
Durik looked at his leader caste quizzically.
“In other words, not everyone supports Lord Karthan.”
Standing behind Raoros, Troll got an alarmed look on his face. Durik was confused.
“In fact,” Raoros Fang continued, “there have been attempts to replace him, all of which have obviously failed.”
Durik was shocked by the revelation. Having lived most of his life in the cave complex of the Wolf Rider’s Warrior Group, he’d not been aware of much outside his little world.
“So Durik, the next one to try…”
Troll put a hand on Raoros’ arm and looked at him with warning in his eyes.
Raoros looked at his chief elite warrior sternly, until he withdrew his hand, then he looked back at Durik. “As I was saying, the next one to try we think will be Khazak Mail Fist.”
Durik was stunned, while Troll looked relieved. Lord Karthan and his chamberlain, Khazak Mail Fist, were rarely seen apart. Khazak had always appeared to Durik to be Lord Karthan’s most loyal supporter. How could he possibly do Lord Karthan any harm?
“But sire, how can that be?” Durik began to object.
Raoros held up his hand. “Durik, the older you get, the more you’ll realize that everyone wears a mask.” Durik didn’t know what to say. “But I’ll offer you proof that he is, in fact, conspiring to kill Lord Karthan,” Raoros continued. “Do you know the mushroom called Fang Cap?”
“Yes, sire. It’s a small, red, flat-headed mushroom that turns poisonous when it gives off spores,” he recited, remembering a lesson given by the Herb Master during the year of training.
Raoros nodded. “Partially correct; its spores are poisonous. The mushroom itself is very good… when it’s not in cycle that is,” he said. “And if you accidentally eat the spores, you will die quickly and painfully. So, tell me, Durik, where does it grow?”
Durik shook his head.
“It grows in mud, but not in just any mud. It needs a lot of heat, like the heat that rises up from the underdark to warm our caves.”
Durik had heard where there was such mud, a whole field of hot mud, with air bubbling up through it from some hidden fissure below it. That massive cavern was a growing place for all sorts of mushrooms and fungi, and other more dangerous things as well.
“Aha,” Raoros exclaimed, “I can see by the look in your eye that you know exactly where I’m talking about. Go to the mud cavern where it grows. Find the stands of Fang Cap that grow there and discover whether they’re shedding spores or not, and if any of them have been harvested or if they’ve had their spores scraped from under their caps. Bring me some that have been scraped, as well as some that still have their spores to prove that they’re in cycle. This will provide the evidence I need to protect our lord.”
“But sire.” Durik’s confusion was evident on his face. “How will this prove that Khazak Mail Fist is conspiring to kill Lord Karthan?”
“He is chamberlain, is he not?” Raoros Fang asked, none too softly. Behind him, Troll seemed overly aware of the volume of his words.
“Yes, sire.”
“Then if Lord Karthan’s servant was found attempting to poison Lord Karthan and his household, wouldn’t that point the finger at his loyal chamberlain?” The chamberlain was charged with taking care of the lord of the gen in all ways, from running the lord’s house as well as his court, to serving as his principal bodyguard. That control extended to the various servants and warriors who served as Lord Karthan’s personal staff, and included his role as leader of the Honor Guard Warrior Group. This connection between Khazak Mail Fist and Lord Karthan’s servants was not lost on Durik.
“Yes, sire. But how will this errand prove anything?” Durik asked. “If you already know who is attempting to kill Lord Karthan, shouldn’t you be stopping him right now?”
Raoros Fang held up a hand, surprised at the impetuousness Durik showed. “Durik, I already am. Much work has gone into taking care of Lord Karthan’s enemies already. However, I need a couple of facts to back up what I’m about to do. You, yearling, will provide one of those facts. Understood?”
Durik nodded his head and buckled the belt with the long knife around his slender waist. “Sire, I’ll not fail you.”
“Good. Now, you know it takes a while to get there and back, so hurry it up but be careful as well. And remember, Durik, these types of things take discretion, so be quiet about it. Do not talk to anyone else about this. Now, off with you.”
Durik turned and hurried off down the passage, urgency evident on his face, having quite forgotten about the business with Trelkar and Trallik for the moment.
Spider smiled to himself, a twisted, smug smile of vindication. It had been years since he last remembered smiling. And when his smile had reemerged from its long suppression, it was not the innocent thing that had brought such joy to his mother, but was instead a self-serving, selfish thing that mirrored its master’s soul.
Pulling the knife from his belt, he threw the hood of his cloak back to get a better view of such a delicate task. Carefully lifting up the red mushroom, he scraped the dull blade across the delicate nodules on the underside of the cap. Like delicate snow, the deadly spores gently floated down onto the cloth he had laid upon the ground for just this purpose.
Shifting gingerly on his lame leg, Spider twisted the mushroom cap a quarter turn and continued his harvesting. Before long there was more than a light dusting on the cloth, and two mushrooms later there was enough for the task his unwitting accomplice had agreed to perform. Spider smiled again. He’d never liked Krobo, and it only made it better that the servant would be blamed for the killing of his lord.
Carefully lifting the edges of the cloth, he rolled it slightly into something of a funnel and poured the poison into a small leather bag, turning away quickly when a bit of the dust rose up from the ad-hoc funnel.
“Can’t be too careful, now,” he muttered to himself as he tightened up the strings to the bag and began to tie it onto his belt.
Suddenly, Spider heard a noise off toward the entrance into this hot, muggy cavern. His ears perked up and he unwittingly looked back toward the entrance without covering his face. He barely caught a glimpse of something retreating back into one of the small tunnels that riddled the walls of this fungus-laden cavern. The heat of the cavern and the dim green light the phosphorescent minerals gave off combined to rob him of the heat vision his race lived by in the darkness of the deeps. He thought it might be a kobold, but the little glimpse he’d gotten of a fleeting tail and a foot could just as easily have been one of the large, feral rats that inhabited these lower caverns.
Sheathing his knife quickly and grabbing the heavy walking stick he used, Spider threw the hood over his short adolescent horns and immediately began hobbling quickly toward the entrance to the cavern. As he passed the hole he had seen the creature enter, he hefted his makeshift club and limped past with a menacing look on his face. To his relief there was nothing to be seen there now.
In a few moments, Spider was safely on his way, and Durik and Keryak could breathe again. Despite the sensitivity of what Raoros Fang had charged him with, Durik couldn’t keep it from Keryak, his truest friend. Besides, he’d wanted to know what else Keryak knew about Lord Karthan’s daughter. Despite his insistent needling, however, Keryak had only seen her once walking about with Lord Karthan, which is how he knew Kiria was Lord Karthan’s daughter.
It wasn’t enough for Durik, who was doing a miserable job of appearing coolly disinterested, while at the same time his mind kept trying to spin out of control, thinking of ways to impress her, of how she was just coming of ag
e like him, and… of how she had looked at him! It had been all he could do to keep quiet while they waited for Spider to do his business.
It had been a day since he’d met Kiria, however, and with so little to go on his mind soon began to run out of fuel and started to calm down, allowing him to focus more on the moment.
“What do you make of that?” Keryak whispered. “Was that Spider?”
Durik nodded, coming out of his thoughts. “I got a good look at him.”
The two friends sat in silence in the little chamber they’d found, thinking of what they’d just seen, and what it meant. Finally, the pair realized there was only one thing to think.
“I guess Raoros Fang was right,” Keryak said. “Someone is trying to poison Lord Karthan.”
Durik just nodded and chewed on his lip as he thought.
“Do you think Spider is the one who’s going to poison Lord Karthan?” Keryak asked.
Durik shook his head. “No, Raoros said it would be one of Lord Karthan’s servants. How do we find out which one?”
“Come on,” Keryak said, sitting up on his heels. “Let’s follow Spidey. He may be a good climber, but he’s slow enough we can tail him and see who he gives the bag of spores to.”
Durik’s face was a mask of determination as the pair climbed out of the hole, harvested the mushrooms Spider had scraped for spores as well as a few others, then hurried quietly after the errant former yearling.
Trelkar wasn’t surprised to see Spider, but Krobo certainly was.
“Spider, what are you doing here?” the old servant caste gasped in surprise.
Looking about the crowded market cavern, Trelkar suddenly turned and walked away as quickly as he could without looking suspicious.
“I have something for you, Krobo,” Spider huffed as he hobbled up to his mother’s future lifemate. It was clear by the flushed look on his face and by his pronounced limp that he’d walked quite a distance, and at a hurried pace. “Here,” he said unceremoniously as he pushed a small leather bag into Krobo’s hand.
“What’s this?” Krobo asked as he began to open the small leather bag.
Spider quickly put his hand over Krobo’s hand before he could open it. “Don’t!” he hissed vehemently then stopped himself. “It is not safe in such quantity. You don’t want to breathe it in.”
Krobo’s eyes narrowed. “This is the sleeping potion Trelkar promised? Spider, what is this? What have you brought me?”
Spider did his best to seem genuine as he lied. “It’s just what Trelkar said; a sleeping component. It will do no one any harm as long as it’s mixed well in the evening stew.”
Krobo looked at Spider with a piercing gaze, but Spider didn’t bend. Finally, the older kobold snorted and tightened the strings on the bag before tying it onto his belt. “I hope for your sake and your mother’s sake that you’re not lying to me. This better be as you say.”
At that moment, Krobo noticed someone coming toward them and looked away. Shaking his head, Spider turned and limped away, past Keryak who seemed entirely too interested in the metal pot at the blacksmith’s stand. For all he prided himself in his skills of stealth and awareness, Spider didn’t seem to notice the out-of-place yearling among the market place of the Deep Guard, nor did he notice Durik, whose bronze scales would have easily given him away, hiding in the shadows of a nearby exit.
Khazak Mail Fist stood warily observing all the goings on in the modest, yet rather long marketplace of the Deep Guard. He was no stranger to danger, and at the moment he could feel several hostile glances in his direction. There, at the stall of a fungus seller, the elite warrior whose shop it was stood with arms folded, glaring at Khazak, until Khazak stared him down, then the elite warrior turned with a huff and got back to his business. But not far down the row of stalls another elite warrior couldn’t seem to keep his eyes on the fish his servant caste had brought up from the deep pools while he was gutting them and packing them in salt. Khazak laughed as the hostile elite warrior’s glare was interrupted when he accidentally cut himself.
Coming up next to him, the elite warrior that led Lord Karthan’s personal body guard whispered something in Khazak’s ear. Khazak nodded and the pair of them began walking through the market place, hands on the hilts of their swords beneath heavy cloaks of dark wool. Their target, Trelkar the chief elite warrior of the Deep Guard, saw them coming from down the side passage of the market and immediately began walking away from whoever he was talking with.
Khazak Mail Fist pointed to the right and Lord Karthan’s chief bodyguard took to the main passage, intent on intercepting Trelkar. Another of Lord Karthan’s bodyguards joined him from a stall where he’d been browsing the wares.
Khazak took the side passage, his eyes warily scanning the booths as he passed. The faces of every elite warrior he passed seemed hostile, though the servant caste and many of the warriors who worked the booths or who were browsing the wares seemed mostly oblivious to his presence or still deferent to him.
Suddenly, he came face to face with Krobo, one of Lord Karthan’s servants.
“Sire!” Krobo stammered, obviously flustered as if Khazak had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. “What brings you down here?”
Khazak looked intently at his master’s servant. Was there a part of the growing conspiracy that his network had not yet uncovered? “Krobo, what are you doing here?” he asked flatly, the intent in his voice unmistakable.
“Um, I, uh, I came to find some ingredients for tonight’s stew,” he finally blurted out.
“Since when have you helped that old witch that runs Lord Karthan’s kitchen?” Khazak asked, his eyes looking Krobo over intently.
Behind Krobo a warrior motioned to Khazak from the mouth of the passageway leading into the main thoroughfare of the marketplace. Khazak snorted his frustration. “Krobo, report back to the Lord’s House. We’ll talk as soon as I get back,” he commanded, then immediately took off walking at a fast pace after the warrior who had motioned for him.
Krobo took a deep breath then quickly walked to the spice seller’s booth where Jezmya worked. Pushing past a Deep Guard warrior who was browsing the wares, he leaned in close to her.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“No time to talk. Here.” He pushed a bag across the counter. “Take this for now. I’ll come for it tonight before the third gong sounds. Whatever you do, don’t open it or touch what’s inside.”
“Is this…”
“Yes, it is,” Krobo said as he grabbed a bag identical in appearance to the one he had passed to her from a small shelf. Within moments the small bag of powdered salt dangled on his belt and Krobo began walking away quickly.
Back at the booth, a Deep Guard warrior stumbled trying to avoid Krobo, falling into the pile of bags on the counter. “Sorry, here’s your bag,” he muttered as he recovered, passing Jezmya a small leather bag.
In the main passage, Khazak and his warriors stood together facing off with Trelkar.
“Trelkar,” Khazak growled as he walked up to the fiery-eyed chief elite warrior.
“What seems to be the problem, chamberlain?” Trelkar asked through clenched teeth.
Khazak looked him up and down. Trelkar wore nothing but the loin cloth and crossed shoulder belts common to the warriors of the gen, a long knife dangling from his waist like most warriors wore. After a couple of moments, Khazak growled in frustration. “Nothing, it would seem.”
“Have you lost something?” Trelkar asked, a smug grin emerging on his face.
Khazak stared at Trelkar, a cold, furious stare. Finally, Trelkar looked away. Khazak breathed deeply and calmed himself. “We will see if there’s anything to find some other time.” With that, Khazak turned and walked off. He was soon joined by the four others who had accompanied him here.
“Sire,” the chief of Lord Karthan’s bodyguard said apologetically. “My source has proved right twice now. I don’t know what happened. He was supposed
to have the poison on him.”
“Well, he didn’t,” Khazak growled. “And so we cornered him without cause and had to back down. Now he doesn’t have to suspect, he clearly knows that we’re watching him, and he probably knows that we have an informant in his inner circle.”
“I can’t imagine what he did with the bag, if he had it.”
Khazak stopped and turned to face the small group of warriors. “I can,” he said, a sudden realization showing on his face. “Follow me,” he commanded. “We need to catch up with Krobo before he gets too far.” With that, Khazak took off running, followed by the other warriors.
Durik and Keryak tried to look inconspicuous as they hurried down the unlit passage that paralleled the main passage where the female with the bag of poison spores had gone. To not arouse suspicions, as soon as they saw her take the main passage, they had ducked into this side passage, but though it led to the same place it was longer with more twists, so they had to run.
“Isn’t this the way to Trallik’s dwelling?” Keryak asked between gasps.
Durik nodded. He’d had to fetch Trallik, who was a deep sleeper, more than once during the year of training. “He is Deep Guard, after all.”
Soon the tunnel met up with the main route between the living quarters of the Deep Guard and the fungus farms that flourished in the deeper reaches of their gen’s home caverns, where the geothermal heat coming up from below and the water seeping down from the ponds on the surface combined to make a rich place for growing shelf fungus.
Without so much as a glance to the right, Durik led the pair off to the left. Not more than a hundred steps later they emerged into a large unlit cavern filled with tents and shanties, many of which were huddled up against the walls of the cavern, but still more huddled together in clusters throughout the sandy floor of the large, sloping cavern. Heat rose from some of them, but in general the area seemed mostly empty.
“Over there,” Durik said, pointing to the large opening that seemed set as a drain at the lower end of the cavern. “That’s where she’ll come out of.”
