by Jeff Crook
As they made their way back to the banquet hall, Jessica noticed Sir Quintayne drifting back until he reached the side of Sir Liam. The two then continued side-by-side, their heads close in whispered conversation. As the body of Knights slowed to turn the corner and ascend the stairs, Jessica heard Quintayne hiss, "Thirty-six Knights! Without the dragons, I fail to see the point of their coming at all."
"I'm rather glad the blues have gone. At least now, if they try something, they won't have their dragons to assist them," Liam answered.
"But the entire reason for all this is that we join our forces to face the threat of Pyrothraxus. What good are thirty-six Knights? We need ten times as many," Quintayne whispered.
"Not many more Knights of Solamnia held the High Clerist's Tower against an army of thousands," Liam said as they shuffled onto the staircase.
"Yes, but we don't have a dragon orb," Quintayne argued.
"Thirty-six Knights of Takhisis could turn the tide of a close battle," Liam countered. As Jessica mounted the stairs, she leaned forward to better hear them.
Liam continued in a low voice, almost to himself, "Or turn us against each other."
7
The door boomed shut, resounding in the empty hall Gunthar sighed and pushed aside a plate, then carefully laid his head on the table. The only other occupant of the banquet hall, a female boar hound, rose from her place by the dying fire and strode daintily on her long legs across the room, her nails clicking on the flagstones. She stopped once to sniff at a meaty bone lying on the floor, then continued around the table, approaching Gunthar's chair from behind. When she reached him, she shoved her muzzle under his elbow, begging for a pat on the head. When he failed to respond, she tossed her head, jerking Gunthar awake. He laughed and sat up, wearily running his hands through his thin gray hair. The hound scratched at his thigh with one of her huge paws.
"Yes, Millisant, it's time for bed," Gunthar yawned. "Were you left behind?" He pushed his chair back and stood. "Let's get you to your kennel and me to mine."
Gunthar crossed the banquet hall to a large window overlooking the courtyard, Millisant following at his heel. He opened the window and stepped out onto the battlements. Below, the bonfires burned low, shedding a pale red glow over the courtyard. A few guards stood at their posts or walked their watches, but otherwise the autumn night was quiet. Here and there, a window in some other part of the castle glowed with a dim yellow light. Gunthar breathed deeply of the rich autumn odors, of the wood fires and the smells of the forest. He reached down and tousled the hound's ears.
"Do you smell that?" he asked her. "It makes the old heart leap."
Together, they strode along the battlements toward the kennels. Around towers and angles they walked, taking the grand tour as Gunthar called it, to enjoy a last sniff of air before bed. Millisant trotted obediently at heel, matching her pace to her master's. Along the way, they met a few guards standing watch, men and women who snapped to attention at their approach. Gunthar nodded to them as he passed, and Millisant sniffed them curiously.
Where the forest drew closest to the castle walls, there was a stair that led down from the battlements to a small inner courtyard. Here were the kennels and the stables, and the smokehouse where meats and cheeses were preserved. Near this area, there was an angle where part of the castle jutted out to take advantage of a bluff of rock. As Gunthar approached this place, Millisant suddenly moved ahead of him, her head dropped low, her hackles bristling. Gunthar slowed, his hand straying to the sword at his side. The torches along this section of wall had burned out, but he saw a lone figure blocking the way. Millisant growled dangerously. The figure snapped around, surprised.
"Who goes there?" Gunthar asked.
"Oh, Lord Gunthar, it's you," the figure answered in apparent relief. It stepped forward where the light was better, but Millisant's snarls brought him to a stop. "It's Tohr," he said from the half-shadows.
"Lord Tohr, what brings you out here? I thought you had retired for the evening," Gunthar said.
"Am I not free to go where I please, Lord Gunthar?" Tohr asked.
"Yes, yes, of course you are," Gunthar apologized. "Millisant, heel." Slowly, the hound retreated to his side, and he scratched her behind the ears to calm her.
Tohr stepped into the light but stood with one hand still behind his back. "It's a fine night," he commented as he looked up at the stars. "We don't often see such clear nights in Neraka."
"It's the forest," Gunthar said. "It filters out all the bad, leaving everything clean and new." He sighed. "I have often wondered what it is like in Neraka. I always imagine it to be a dark place, the sky heavy with reeking smoke, dragons gliding watchfully overhead… ."
"It's only a city now," Tohr said. "Not really that different than any other city. But we don't often see the stars there. It is so quiet here, so peaceful," Tohr sighed. "In Neraka, our supreme leader, Lady Mirielle Abrena, requires constant vigilance, constant training. The streets tremble from the boots of marching feet."
"What is she like?" Gunthar asked.
"Lady Mirielle? She is much like you, my lord Gunthar. Her heart and soul is the Knighthood. It is her life," Tohr said. He smiled. "She was very surprised to receive your letter offering to join our two orders. She was considering sending you just such a proposal herself."
"Really!" Gunthar said with some surprise. "Then why did she wait two years to respond?"
"Like yourself, she had many prejudices to overcome before making such a move. I must admit, when first she told me of her plans, I had my doubts," Tohr said.
"It is difficult for either side to trust the other," Gunthar commented.
"Very difficult," Tohr said.
He turned and leaned against the crenelated wall, looking out over the dark forest. As he did so, he moved his hand to his side.
"What have you got there?" Gunthar asked, no longer able to control his curiosity and his feeling that he'd caught Tohr doing something.
"Where?" Tohr asked.
"In your hand there."
"Oh, this?" he produced the folded scrap of paper. "This… this is nothing. A note someone sent me."
"You'll forgive me, Lord Tohr, but I must ask to see it," Gunthar said.
Reluctantly, Tohr handed over the scrap. Gunthar took it and stepped closer to one of the still-burning torches. With a quick glance at the leader of the Knights of Takhisis, he opened it and quickly read:
Abandon this foolish notion and leave this land, or you and all your Knights will suffer the consequences.
The unsigned note seemed hastily scrawled on a blank page torn from the back of a book. He held the paper up to the light and saw the watermark of a publisher in Kalaman. He examined the handwriting, but it bore no unusual qualities or identifying style. It could have been written by anyone. Angrily, Gunthar crushed the paper in his fist.
"Where did this come from?" he asked.
"I found it… affixed to my pillow with a dagger, when I retired to my room," Tohr said. "Here is the dagger." He produced a small stiletto from his belt.
Gunthar took the weapon in his trembling hand. "This is one of my daggers. I thought I'd lost it." Gunthar's head sank wearily, and he sighed deeply, as though the weight of all Krynn lay upon his shoulders.
"Lord Tohr, I must apologize for mistrusting you," he said. "Truly, you have shown yourself an honorable man by trying to conceal this from me."
"Really, Lord Gunthar, it is nothing; probably the idle threat of some young Knight who'd had too much wine tonight," Tohr said. "Their prejudices will change with time and understanding."
"This is the act of a coward, and I won't allow it. The culprit must be found and punished," Gunthar swore as he tucked the note under his belt.
"Our Knights are young, Lord Gunthar, like fiery young stallions. We must give them loose reins or risk breaking their spirits. There is no need to let one idle voice stir up more suspicion and mistrust than already exists," Tohr urged.
Gun
thar smiled. "I see we think alike," he said. "But still, I've been too lenient with them of late. This note is proof of that. Something must be done."
"Only, I beg you, wait a while. Allow time for our Knights to get to know each other, for the barriers of prejudice to lower a bit," Tohr asked.
Gunthar stiffened his back and jutted out his chin. "Very well, then. I will take your advice. I won't mention this until after the hunt." He grinned broadly and grasped Lord Tohr's shoulder. "Come, my friend. I was just returning this young lady to her kennels. Would you like to see my other hounds?"
"Of course," Tohr said, bowing. "Truly, they are the finest of their kind that I've ever seen."
Tohr and Gunthar continued along the battlements, followed closely by Millisant. "They are my pride and joy," Gunthar beamed as he turned onto the narrow stair leading down into the stable yard. "You shall meet the greatest of my hounds, a hero among boar hounds, the great Garr. Always in the past, we've never been able to properly hunt Mannjaeger because we never had the proper dog. But Garr is the one. He shall bring Mannjaeger to bay!"
In his excitement, Gunthar tried to turn to see his guest's reaction and missed a step. He slipped, teetering over a forty foot drop to the stone courtyard below. Tohr's arm shot out and caught the Grand Master by the swordbelt, dragging him to safety. Together, they leaned against the inner wall, and Gunthar clasped the younger, stronger Knight to his breast, his old heart beating wildly.
"Thank you, my friend," he gasped.
"Lord Gunthar, if this was a test of my good intentions, you could have waited until we reached the lower steps," Tohr joked as he helped Gunthar regain his balance. "I am… uncomfortable with heights."
After catching his breath, Gunthar continued down the stairs, more carefully this time and without turning as he talked. Behind them, Millisant awkwardly negotiated the steps. Gunthar explained in some detail the pedigree of Garr, of the bear and boar and deer he had run, and his hopes for the hound's success in the next hunt. They crossed the stable yard, nodding to a couple of retainers they found playing a game of dice outside the door to the kennels.
"We found a stray in the banquet hall," Gunthar said to them in greeting. "She wants back with her fellows."
"Yes, milord," the retainers said as they rose and opened the door. A fetid odor of warm dog and gully dwarf wafted out. One of the retainers took a torch from a sconce and stepped inside, leading the way.
"Did you two get plenty to eat tonight, Fawkes?" Gunthar asked the elder retainer.
"Most certainly, milord," he answered, contentedly patting his belly. "Come on in here, Millisant my lass." The hound trotted inside.
The kennels was a close, dark, low-roofed room that seemed to stretch catacomb-like into the shadows. But unlike a catacomb, the air was warm and dry, if exceedingly ripe with the strong seedy odors of hounds and gully dwarves. The stone floor was strewn with straw, rinds, and well-chewed bones. Most of the hounds slept in a great pile in the center of the chamber, with here and there a small, thick-toed foot or stubby-fingered hand sticking out, twitching in some gully dwarf dream, but off to the side, near the wall, lay curled a hound of enormous size. As Gunthar, Lord Tohr, and the retainer entered, he raised his great head from the floor and blinked at them sleepily with his brown eyes. Millisant trotted over to him, her whole body wagging, and rolled over on her back before him, exposing the lighter gray fur of her underbelly. She licked Garr's face, washing his chin whiskers, and he accepted the attentions of the packling with noble patience.
"That is Garr," Gunthar said proudly.
"Truly, a splendid animal," Tohr said in undisguised awe.
Garr closed his eyes as though regally accepting the compliment. He lowered his head and sniffed Millisant's ears, accepting a friendly ear-chewing from her in return. That finished, Garr settled his chin on his paws and seemed to drop off to sleep.
"There will never be another like him," Gunthar whispered.
"Millisant, bad girl!" said a voice behind them.
A small, rat-skin-capped gully dwarf pushed his way past the Knights' legs and entered the room. At the sound of his voice, the female hound rose, but remained where she stood, her tail drooping between her legs.
"I look all over," the gully dwarf said. "I look two places. Two places, many times." He walked over and patted her on the head with his grubby hand. Millisant fawned before him, though she was twice his size.
"Lord Tohr, may I introduce to you the master of my hounds—Uhoh Ragnap, esquire," Gunthar said.
"Oh, hello, Papa," Uhoh said. "I not see you when I come in. I find Millisant. Sleep now." He flopped down beside Garr and seemed ready to do just that.
"Lord Gunthar, why must you allow these gully dwarves to sleep in here? With their stink, they'll ruin the hounds' noses for sure," Fawkes complained.
"Master Uhoh knows the rules," Gunthar said. "Regular bathing for everyone, every day, for three days before the hunt," Gunthar added. "Uhoh, I'd like you to meet Lord Tohr Malen. Lord Tohr is a Knight who'll be staying with us for a while."
Uhoh remained seated on the floor, staring up at Lord Tohr. He seemed most intent on Tohr's armor, with its skull and thorn and lily symbols, and the symbol of the five-headed dragon of Takhisis. He scratched his head through his rat-skin cap, as though trying to remember something. Slowly, he stood and settled his baggy clothes around his body.
"Very pleased meeting you," he said, extending his hand to Lord Tohr.
"He is remarkable, for a gully dwarf," Tohr said from the corner of his mouth as he gingerly shook Uhoh's small, filthy hand. "That's a very interesting name you have there, Uhoh. How did you come by it."
"Ragnap very old and pres… pres… pres-something name. It go back two generations," Uhoh said proudly.
"I meant your first name. How did you get the name 'Uhoh?'"
"All Aghar get name when born. I get name. Brother get name. Momma get name. Everybody get name. Why you get name?"
"But why were you called 'Uhoh?' Tohr asked slowly.
"Momma got to call me something. Can't call me 'Hey you!'" the gully dwarf said a little angrily.
"I see, but what I meant was…"
"That my brother's name," Uhoh said.
Tohr stopped. "What is?" he asked.
"Heyoo. Heyoo Ragnap," Uhoh said.
Lord Tohr turned an exasperated glance upon Gunthar and found him suppressing a smile. "Perhaps I can help," Gunthar said, stepping forward and laying a calming hand on Tohr's shoulder. "Uhoh, tell us the story of when your mother named you."
"Good story, Papa. My favorite," Uhoh said with a smile. He flopped to the floor and leaned back against Garr's chest. "Now, long time, two summers ago, I born. Momma hold me when Aunt Oopsie say, 'What you name pretty boy?' Momma don't know, so she shrug, and drop me plop! on head. She look down and say, 'Uhoh.' "
Scattered applause sounded from the pile of dogs in the center of the room. During the discussion, several of the gully dwarves sleeping there had wakened. Apparently the story was also one of their favorites, for they continued to clap, though few had moved. Uhoh nodded his head and smiled at them.
"Well, enough with tales," Gunthar said with a yawn. "Time for bed. Good night, Uhoh."
"G'night, Papa," the gully dwarf answered as he stretched and yawned, then curled up beside Garr. The hound laid his head on Uhoh's thigh.
"And remember, baths for everyone three days before the hunt," Gunthar said.
"Yes, Papa. Two days," Uhoh mumbled sleepily.
Gunthar walked with Lord Tohr, discussing matters of lands and castles to be garrisoned by various Knights, and of formalities needed to be performed before the joining of their two orders. Finally, they reached the guests' chambers, and Gunthar stopped before the door to Tohr's rooms.
"I'm still worried about that note," he commented as he prepared to leave. "Perhaps I should post a guard before your door," Gunthar said. "Someone I can trust."
"There is no need, Lord Gun
thar," Tohr said. "I don't believe there is any real danger, and if there is, well…" he patted the mace which hung at his belt. "I'm not too old to swing old Belle."
"Your mace is named Belle?" Gunthar asked. "How interesting. My wife's name was Belle."
"Yes, I know. My condolences on your loss, Lord Gunthar," Tohr said, bowing.
"Thank you, sir," Gunthar said. "She lived a full life. Do you know, this bedroom was our bedroom before she passed. When she died, I hadn't the heart to stay here, so I moved to a smaller, cozier room in another part of the castle."
"I do not blame you. Surely, the memories associated with this chamber are still too fresh in your mind," Tohr sympathized.
"Yes, well, good night again,"' Gunthar said. "Come along, Millisant. Now where did she go?"
"We already returned her to the kennels, if you remember," Tohr said.
"Did we?" Gunthar asked in genuine surprise. "Ah, yes of course. How stupid of me. Well, good night again." He turned and strolled down the hall. Lord Tohr shook his head and slowly closed the door.
8
Liam eased the door shut, then glanced up and down the dark castle hall. From the opposite wall, a pale beam of light spread from beneath a door, while the other dozen or so doorways lining this hall showed no such light. Liam stood quietly in the darkness, listening, noting a muffled snore coming from somewhere down the hall, but otherwise this section of the castle was silent. The light under the opposite door wavered, as though a shadow had passed before it. Liam tensed and quietly stepped over to the door, pressing his ear against the wood, but he heard no sound.
He rapped lightly on the door, whispering, "Lord Gunthar?"
There was no answer, but again the light shifted. He heard a rustling noise, as of papers being shuffled.
He rapped again, louder. "Lord Gunthar?" he queried.
