“The loss of Thorbardin is a blow,” said Kitiara calmly, “but certainly not a fatal one. True, the wealth of the dwarven kingdom would have come in handy, but you can get along without it. What is more to be feared is the dwarven army entering the war and I do not see that happening. The humans hate the elves, who distrust the humans, and no one likes the dwarves, who despise the other two. They’re far more likely to turn on each other than they are to fight us.”
Ariakas grunted. He was not accustomed to losing and he was still not pleased, but Grag, glancing at Kitiara, saw from her slight wink that the crisis was past. The bozak relaxed and let go the magical spell he’d had ready to use to defend himself. Unlike some of the emperor’s human toadies, who would have said meekly, “Thank you for the attention, my lord,” as Ariakas chopped off their heads, the draconian would have not gone to his death without a fight, and Grag was formidable foe. He might not have been able to kill the powerful Ariakas, but the bozak, with his massive scaled body, clawed feet and hands, and massive wings, could at least do some damage to the human. The Blue Lady had seen the danger, and this had been the reason for her intervention.
Grag was a descendant of dragons, and like dragons, he had little use for any human, but he gave the Blue Lady a slight nod of gratitude. She flashed her crooked smile at him and her dark eyes glittered and he realized, suddenly, that she was enjoying this.
“Regale us with the details of Verminaard’s death,” said Kitiara. “He was set upon by assassins masquerading as slaves. Are these assassins still on the loose, Commander?”
“Yes, my lady,” said Grag stiffly. “We tracked them to Thorbardin. According to my spies, they are still there.”
“I will offer a bounty for their capture as I did with the Green Gemstone man,” said Ariakas. “Our forces all across Ansalon will be told to be on the lookout for them.”
“I would think twice about that, my lord,” said Kitiara, with that strange quirk of her lips. “You do not want to advertise that slaves were responsible for slaying a Dragon Highlord.”
“We will find some other excuse then,” Ariakas stated in cold fury. “What do we know of these men?”
Grag’s tongue flicked out from between his fangs and slid back in. In truth, he didn’t know much. He glanced at the Blue Lady and saw that she was losing interest in the conversation. She lifted her hand to her mouth to conceal a yawn.
Grag scanned his mind for all that his late partner, the aurak Dray-yan, had told him about the assassins.
“Verminaard had a spy in their midst. He reported that they were from a town in Abanasinia, my lord. A place by the name of Solace—”
Kitiara’s boredom vanished. “Solace, you say?”
Ariakas glanced at her. “Isn’t Solace where you were born?”
“Yes,” Kitiara replied, “I grew up there.” “Perhaps you know these wretches,” Ariakas remarked.
“I doubt it,” Kit answered with a shrug. “I have not been back to my home in years.”
“What were their names?” Ariakas asked impatiently.
“I only know a couple—” Grag began.
“You must have seen them during the battle,” Ariakas said curtly. “Describe them, Commander.”
“I saw them,” Grag muttered dourly. He had seen them close up, in fact. They had captured him at one point and only by the Dark Queen’s mercy and his own wits had he been able to escape. “They are a rag-tag lot. Their leader is a mongrel half-elf called Tanis. Another is a gray-beard dwarf, and yet another is a sniveling kender. The rest are human: a red-robe wizard, a foul Solamnic knight named Sturm, and a muscle-bound warrior named Caramon.”
Kitiara made a slight sound, a sort of strangled gasp.
“Do you recognize these criminals?” Ariakas demanded, turning to her.
Kitiara composed her features in an instant. She smiled her crooked smile and said, “I am afraid not, my lord.”
“You better not,” said Ariakas grimly. “If I find out that you had something to do with Verminaard’s death—”
“I assure you, my lord, I know nothing about it,” Kitiara said with a shrug.
Ariakas regarded her intently, trying to dissect her. Assassination was one means of rising to higher rank in the Dark Queen’s army, viewed as a way to provide the strongest possible leadership, but Ariakas had valued Verminaard, and Kitiara did not want to be accused of having arranged the man’s death, especially when the loss of the kingdom of Thorbardin had been the disastrous result.
“Solace has a population of several thousand, my lord,” Kitiara said, growing annoyed. “I did not know every man in town.”
Ariakas stared at her and she met his gaze unflinching. At last, he let her off the hook.
“No, but I’ll bet you slept with half of them,” he said, and turned his attention back to Grag.
Kitiara smiled dutifully at his lordship’s jest, but her smile vanished when he was no longer watching her. She leaned back against the table, her arms folded, her gaze abstracted.
“Where are these assassins now, Commander?” Ariakas was asking.
“The last I heard of them, they were hiding in Thorbardin, my lord.” Grag hesitated, then said, with a curl of his lip, “I believe the hobgoblin who styles himself Fewmaster Toede can provide you with more information about them.”
Kitiara stirred slightly. “If your Lordship would like, I could travel to Pax Tharkas, talk to this Fewmaster.”
“The Fewmaster is not in Pax Tharkas, my lady,” said Grag. “That fortress is in shambles and is no longer defensible. The Red Wing has relocated to the city of Haven.”
“I will go to Haven, then,” Kitiara said.
“Perhaps later,” Ariakas told her curtly. “Solamnia takes priority.”
Kitiara shrugged again and subsided back into her reverie.
“As for these assassins,” Ariakas continued, “they will most likely remain skulking in the caves of Thorbardin through the coming winter. We will hire some dark dwarf—”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Kitiara interrupted.
“What do you mean?” Ariakas turned to glare at her. “I thought you didn’t know these men!”
“I don’t, but I know their type,” she said, “and so do you, my lord. They are most likely rovers, itinerant sell-swords. Such men never remain in one place long. Rest assured, they will soon be on the move. A little snow will not stop them.”
Ariakas gave her a strange look, one she did not see, for she was staring down at the toes of her dust-covered boots. He regarded her in silence a moment then turned back to Grag.
“Find out from your agents all you can about these men. If they do leave the dwarven halls, report to me at once,” Ariakas scowled, “and put the word out that I want them captured alive. The death of a Dragon Highlord will not go unpunished. I plan to make an example of them.”
Grag promised he would find out all he could. He and Ariakas spent some time talking about the war in the west and who should take over command of the Red Wing. Grag was impressed by the fact that Ariakas know all about the Red Wing’s status, the disposition of forces, the need for supplies, and so forth.
They discussed Pax Tharkas. Ariakas said he had considered retaking it, but given that the fortress was in ruins, he had decided that it would not be worth the effort. His armies would simply go around it.
All this time, Kitiara remained silent and preoccupied. Grag thought she wasn’t listening until he mentioned—with a curl of his lip—Fewmaster Toede’s ambition to become the successor to Verminaard. At that, Kitiara smiled.
There was no doubt in Grag’s mind. The Blue Lady knew the assassins, and Ariakas knew she knew—or at least suspected it.
Grag would not have been in her boots for all the dwarf spirits in Thorbardin.
About the Authors
Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman have been writing best-selling DRAGONLANCE® novels for over twenty years. As partners, they have written over thirty novels
. Together, alone, and with different writing partners, they have written close to a hundred books, including novels, role-playing games, collections of stories, and game products.
Their first collaboration, Dragons of Autumn Twilight, was published in 1984, and the continuing series, set in the fantasy world of Krynn, has sold over twenty million copies worldwide, and has been translated and published in twenty foreign languages.
The Lost Chronicles, Volume One
DRAGONS OF THE DWARVEN DEPTHS
©2006 Wizards of the Coast, Inc.
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Published by Wizards of the Coast, Inc. FORGOTTEN REALMS, WIZARDS OF THE COAST, and their respective logos are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast, Inc., in the U.S.A. and other countries.
eISBN: 978-0-7869-5444-5
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