The Trials of Caste

by Joel Babbitt

  “They are merciless, Spider,” Krobo cried. “They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want… and they’ll destroy us and your mother in the process. None of us are important to them; only power. They’ll use us up and throw us away when it suits them.”

  “Here.” Spider’s eyes began to moisten from the first realization that his dreams for power were likely to end in ruin for him and his mother. Yet he could see no other way than to do Trelkar’s bidding. “Take this dust,” he said, pressing the small jar into Krobo’s hands.

  Krobo looked down at the jar. “This is poison, isn’t it?” he stated more than asked.

  Spider nodded his head. “It will end this whole thing.”

  “But how can I…” Krobo began.

  At that moment, the pair of kobolds heard footsteps coming down the passageway. As they stood frozen, a kobold that neither of them recognized came around the corner and stopped. By his dress and markings, he was an elite warrior of the Deep Guard, but neither of them had seen him before.

  “Ah, Spider and Krobo,” the stranger said.

  Both of them looked at each other questioningly.

  “Why do you have that dagger, Krobo?”

  “I… I… No re… reason,” Krobo stuttered.

  “Oh, and I see that Spider got you a jar of poison from the Herb Master’s grotto. Well, they’ve sent you on a fool’s errand, then, haven’t they? Sending an old fool to do an assassin’s job? Well, I’m prepared to fix that.”

  Krobo was sweating profusely.

  “And you.” the stranger turned to Spider. “You’ve become quite unnecessary. In fact, after I went to Khazak Mail Fist tonight with the bag of poison you harvested, you’re much more a liability than an asset. Not that I don’t have more poison, mind you.”

  “What do you mean?” Spider asked in confusion.

  “This is what I mean,” the stranger said as he stepped forward. Drawing a long knife from his belt, he grabbed Spider by the shoulder and drove the knife up through his stomach and into his lungs in one fluid motion. The look of shock and blinding pain froze on Spider’s face as the stranger caught his slumping form and pushed him off the walkway. His body fell through space until it hit the bottom of the crevice far below.

  “You… you…” Krobo stammered as he backed up, fear and shock paralyzing the old servant caste.

  At that moment, the sound of several feet could be heard coming from the passageway behind the stranger. Looking about, the stranger unbuckled the sheath from his waist and threw the belt, sheath, and long knife together off the precipice after Spider’s body. Passing a hand over his face, Krobo was stunned to see the face of Spider appear in place of the stranger’s face. The mark of elite warrior was gone from his chest, and he looked less muscular and more hunched over. He looked like Spider!

  As Krobo stumbled back and fell on his tail in shock, Khazak Mail Fist, Lord Karthan’s chief bodyguard, and a pair of other Honor Guard warriors came into view around the corner.

  “Spider!” Khazak called.

  “Yes, sire,” the stranger who now looked like Spider answered.

  “What is going on here?”

  Spider pointed to the dagger and the jar of poison that Krobo still held in his nerveless hands. “Sire, Krobo was coming to kill Lord Karthan. Somehow he got more poison, and see, he has a dagger. I believe it has the stamp of the Deep Guard on it!”

  Khazak’s face twisted to one of absolute anger as he leapt forward and grabbed the poison and the dagger out of Krobo’s hands. Taking Krobo by the arm with his other hand, he picked the older kobold off the floor and threw him bodily at the feet of the two Honor Guard warriors.

  “Take this traitor to prison,” Khazak commanded. “And take this as evidence against Khee-lar and Trelkar from the Deep Guard,” he added as he passed the poison and the dagger to the chief bodyguard.

  “Sire,” the chief bodyguard said. “This is not the stamp of the Deep Guard. This dagger bears the stamp of the Metal Smithies. And this poison comes from the Herb Master’s grotto I would say, by the make of the jar.”

  Khazak growled and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We caught him with the evidence we need, and we’ve already been told who put him up to this,” he said as he caught Spider’s eye. “We’ll get Trelkar and his lackeys. Krobo will tell us what we need to know… with a little bit of persuasion.”

  “That’s not Spider!” Krobo finally blurted out as the two Honor Guard warriors began to drag him away. “He just killed Spider! He’s an imposter! He killed Spider!” then, as his cries became more desperate, “I didn’t know that jar was poison!”

  Khazak looked at Spider with a serious gaze. Spider just looked back at him and chuckled. “I’m not me? It seems the old kobold is crazy as well.”

  Krobo continued to scream and fight the guards as they drug him by the arms out of the cavern and into the passageway. When the screaming didn’t subside quickly, one of the guards struck him hard in the side of the head and Krobo slumped into unconsciousness.

  Shaking his head, Khazak began walking after them, intent on making it to the gen’s council on time. The burning of the torch that marked the first watch of the night had begun at the sounding of the third gong, and the midnight council where the yearlings’ quest would be discussed would soon convene in the council chambers of the gen. Despite all the events of the past couple of days, tradition was tradition, and nothing would get in the way of everyone playing their parts in the series of events that were collectively known as the Trials of Caste.

  “Sire,” the kobold who looked like Spider said as the chief bodyguard turned to him, “now that you have him, may I gather my mother’s things from his personal chambers in the Lord’s house?”

  The chief bodyguard nodded. “Aye.”

  Looking about one more time, Mynar the Sorcerer followed the chief bodyguard toward the Lord’s House.

  Khee-lar Shadow Hand hurried along the various passageways, some of them natural lava flow tubes while others had been carved with magic or with picks by kobolds of generations now past. His destination was the gen’s great council chamber; the seat of power for the gen’s lord and council that he was intent on making his own before long. Behind him trailed a handful of his own warriors to serve as a bodyguard, and to scout out the chamber before he arrived. He had been careful to work through intermediaries in most of this plot, but Trelkar’s uncharacteristically impetuous move of sending Krobo off with a dagger to kill Lord Karthan had put everything at risk.

  He shook his head as he walked along a trail through a larger cavern, one that was worn particularly smooth. He had not actually wanted a move made against Lord Karthan yet; he thought he’d made that clear. But obviously Trelkar had not seen the poison plot for what it was; a deception to make Mynar think that the Covenant was moving against Lord Karthan. He didn’t actually want Krobo to kill the Lord of the Gen, not yet anyway. There was more strength to be gathered before Khee-lar could be sure he’d come out on top in the chaos that would ensue afterward, after all.

  When the poison somehow got lost, however, things got confused. Somehow Trelkar didn’t get the poison, and somehow the decoy powder they had prepared for Krobo had not ended up with Krobo. He’d ended up with a bag of spiced shelf fungus instead!

  Khee-lar muttered his frustration. It was either a rare bout of incompetence on Trelkar’s part, or somehow Mynar had seen through the delaying tactic and taken the spores… But if he had, then why? After all, it was Mynar who had not wanted to wait to move against Lord Karthan.

  Khee-lar again shook his head. For a moment he thought he might be to blame. After all, he’d never actually told Trelkar that Krobo’s errand was meant to fail, and fail quietly. As quick as the thought came, however, Khee-lar dismissed it. “Trelkar should have known,” he muttered to himself, angrily shifting blame to his second as he ducked into a rough-hewn passageway on the far side of the cavern they were traversing. He was putting the entire plan at risk, and i
f Khazak Mail Fist rolled up Trelkar he would almost certainly point the finger at Khee-lar himself. “That won’t do,” he mumbled. “That won’t do at all.” And in his hardened heart, he knew that Trelkar was a vulnerability that he couldn’t afford right now, he had insulated himself well enough from this whole plot, except in the case of Trelkar, so in the end he knew what must be done; he would not go down with Trelkar. No, Trelkar would leave the gen shortly, before Khazak Mail Fist had the opportunity to bring him in. Now that he had decided, he felt better about the whole thing; yes, it had to be done.

  As his anger began to settle down, Khee-lar’s frustration began to settle as well. He couldn’t help but think of the futility of sending Krobo to kill Lord Karthan with a dagger. Honestly, he doubted the old fool would have the stomach to actually do it, when it came down to it. What was Trelkar thinking? Still, he brought a strong bodyguard just in case he was wrong about Krobo, and in case Trelkar wasn’t enough of a target for Khazak and his lackeys.

  And where was Mynar the Sorcerer in all this? He’d left the Deep Guard’s caverns last evening and hadn’t been seen since. That could not bode well. Khee-lar was beginning to suspect that he would have to deal with Mynar in a more permanent fashion and find some other way to get the Kale Stone. If only that Krall Stone Mynar carried could be used by someone else to locate the Kale Stone, someone of Kale heritage…

  As he emerged from the passageway into a large common chamber not far from the council chamber and the Leaders’ Grotto, Khee-lar was surprised to see a pair of Honor Guard warriors standing guard at the far end.

  Walking up to them as if nothing were the matter, Khee-lar recognized one of them as Lord Karthan’s chief elite warrior.

  “Well, strange seeing you here, Chief” Khee-lar began, his retinue of warriors tightening up their formation behind him. “I would have thought you’d be in the council chamber already.”

  The grizzled veteran warrior’s face was an emotionless mask. “Sire, we found Krobo with a dagger and a jar of poison, and we believe he was intent on killing Lord Karthan. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”

  Khee-lar looked deliberately shocked. “Well, isn’t that unfortunate. Glad to hear he was found out before he could do any damage!” Inside, he was cursing Trelkar’s ill-advised move yet again, but felt reassured that Khazak and his lackeys didn’t have the evidence they needed to implicate him personally. After all, if they did Lord Karthan’s chief elite warrior would not be bandying words with him right now; the impetuous old warrior would have pulled his sword already.

  The chief elite warrior was non-plussed by Khee-lar’s almost flippant answer. “We have reason to believe that Trelkar put Krobo up to it. Do you have any idea why he would do that?”

  Khee-lar Shadow Hand chuckled. “You’d have to ask Trelkar about that, I would imagine. But I can’t think it’s anything more than the imaginations of a deranged old servant’s mind. What would Trelkar have to do with that crazy old servant caste, anyway? He’s a member of Lord Karthan’s house staff, not the Deep Guard.”

  The old veteran was not amused. “Look, Khee-lar,” he said forcefully, deliberately not using any title of respect. “We know Krobo has been spending a lot of time with a female named Jezmya down in your warrior group, as do you. We also know that Trelkar has been dealing in poison. You know what I’m talking about. We’re on to your chief, and it won’t be long before we have the proof we need to take you down as well.”

  “Enough of this silliness, lackey.” Khee-lar waved dismissively at the veteran warrior. “You challenge my honor, as if you had a right to. Remember your station. I am a leader caste and you’re still only an elite warrior. Know your place!” With that, Khee-lar and the rest of his retinue walked past the pair of guards.

  Not far into the passage, Khee-lar turned to one of his bodyguards. “Go. Tell Trelkar that Krobo’s been taken, and that somehow he had acquired more poison. Tell him that this may work to our advantage. Go and tell Trelkar to prepare his group to follow Lord Karthan’s ‘package,’ and to leave the gen now, if he wants to keep his head.”

  “The ‘package’ sire?”

  “He’ll know what I mean. Just tell him,” Khee-lar answered. “Oh,” he stopped the warrior as he was about to leave, “and tell him I don’t know how Krobo got more poison, but I can only suspect either Spider or somehow Mynar the Sorcerer.”

  “Aye, sire, though with how the poison disappeared… It bears the signature of Mynar, I would think? Do you think Mynar knew your intent was for Krobo to fail?” the warrior asked.

  “Perhaps,” Khee-lar said, bothered by the talk of it all with one of so low a social standing, though encouraged that someone around him had seen his intent clearly. “Go, tell Trelkar to leave the gen shortly, and when we’ve taken the gen we’ll send for him at the First Night’s Resting Place.”

  “Yes, sire,” the warrior answered curtly, then split off from the main group and doubled back into an uneven side passage, one that tumbled over rocks and ran through seeps of mud and dipped into sumps of water; one where he could pass undetected through the guard force Khazak Mail Fist had deployed.

  Breathing deeply, Khee-lar calmed himself and focused on the tasks ahead. Krobo had been taken, but that was no matter. He was only a pawn anyway, a delaying tactic at best. No one already in the Covenant had been taken, and sending Trelkar away before Karthan and his lackeys could take him in would ensure that. Their secret society was still secret, and Lord Karthan didn’t have enough evidence to take action against him… yet.

  Durik walked quietly up to the sleeping form of his fellow yearling behind the empty stand where Trallik had decided to hide. He had known Trallik wouldn’t be able to stay awake. He never could. Carefully, and ever so quietly, he shifted a broad wooden plank just enough to completely conceal Trallik, and not a moment too soon.

  At that moment Lord Karthan’s chief bodyguard entered the empty market cavern, followed closely by Spider, who walked along behind him as easily as before he’d broken his leg during the year of training. Spider looked about the place, clearly not expecting to see Durik, who stood there unassumingly.

  Durik found it strange that Spider looked as calm and collected as he did, but even more strange was that Spider didn’t even seem to recognize Durik in the darkness of the cave. It was as if he’d completely forgotten the events of earlier that evening.

  “Good evening, yearling,” the chief bodyguard said, and though there was no light he did recognize Durik as one of the seven who would be competing tomorrow. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  Durik bowed his head. “Yes. I couldn’t sleep.”

  The chief bodyguard laughed. “Nervous for the competition tomorrow, I’m sure.”

  With that, the chief bodyguard and Spider walked by, leaving Durik standing in front of the hidden form of his sleeping companion. Spider looked about one more time as the pair left the chamber. Not seeing Trallik, he shook his head and muttered to himself, but quickly followed the chief bodyguard.

  As the two passed into the far passage, Durik heard Trallik stirring. Quickly putting the wooden plank back in place, Durik did his best to pad away silently after Spider.

  “Here’s Krobo’s private chambers,” the chief bodyguard said. “And here I’ll leave you with him.” He nodded toward the lone guard that had been posted to the servants’ quarters in the Lord’s House.

  Mynar the Sorcerer, still under Spider’s visage, nodded and smiled at the chief bodyguard. He was annoyed that the yearling Trallik had not been there. He needed his reported skill with locks, and besides, he had to lay the blame on someone…

  “If you need any help, I’m sure Bogat can help you.” With that, the chief bodyguard left the room.

  “Here,” the guard named Bogat said. “I’ll open up his room for you.” Key ring in hand, the guard opened one of the several doors in this back-chamber warren of housing. There was rarely anyone here during the day, but at night all of t
he servants who did not have houses of their own slept here. Most of them had already gone to bed. After all, a servant’s life was always early to bed, early to rise, in order to prepare things for the lord and his family.

  Waiting patiently for the guard to finish opening the finicky door and to step aside, Mynar nodded and walked into the cramped little quarters. Instantly he found what he needed.

  “Bogat, can you help me lift this?” he asked from behind the door.

  The guard ducked in to the little chamber and looked up just in time to receive a crushing blow to the head with a heavy, polished bronze candlestick. Grabbing Bogat by the arms, Mynar drug him into the small chamber, stripped off his equipment then put a pillow over his snout. Several moments later he checked to make sure the guard was no longer breathing, then rolled the body under Krobo’s bed, hiding it behind a couple of extra blankets.

  A few moments later, Bogat emerged from Krobo’s chamber, adjusting a bulging belt pouch he wore and tightening the baldric to the sword that hung on his belt before he turned and locked the chamber door.

  Durik stood before the pair of guards at the entrance to the Lord’s House pleading his case. It was well into the first watch of the night, however, and neither of these guards had any knowledge of ‘some plot to poison Lord Karthan’s household,’ nor were they particularly inclined to listen to some yearling telling them a fantastic story. Finally, just as Durik was about to give up, Khazak Mail Fist, Lord Karthan’s Chief Elite Warrior, and a pair of Honor Guard warriors arrived on the scene.

  “Yearling!” Khazak commanded in a stern voice. “You’re the bronze-scaled one. Here, what are you doing out? The Trials are tomorrow!”