Lord Toede v-5

by Jeff Grubb

  "Rogate, most sage leader," muttered the warrior, eyes bent to the floor.

  "Arise, Sir Rogate," said Toede. "You have pledged your quest with my own." Whatever the heck that might be, he added to himself.

  Rogate tottered to his feet, swaying slightly, and declaimed to the others, "I serve the mighty Toede, and have been accepted and forgiven! Behold, the first of the Toedaic Knights!"

  Bunniswot and Taywin applauded politely. Miles, the kender guard, grimaced and left to return to his post.

  "Now, if everyone will please sit down," said Toede. "Perhaps someone would like to tell me exactly what is going on."

  Rogate drew himself up to his full height, or at least as much height as the hut permitted. "But you know all, most puissant and sage of wonders!"

  Toede motioned for Rogate to sit, saying softly, "I come to you skyclad and unshorn, seeking the teachings of the flesh." He made a mental note to get a few more quotes under his belt.

  Rogate's face brightened, then he quietly sat down. "Perhaps, then, it is best that I begin, my wondrous leader, for I have been in Flotsam for most of the past year, and have seen what has transpired."

  Toede nodded. Rogate continued, "I awoke in the Jetties with my wounds healed, the innkeep declaring that you had considered taking my life, but spared me instead. In that moment I realized your true mercy and felt ashamed.

  "I did not return to my post that night, or ever again. I know now that I was a dupe of the false creatures known as the Water Prophet and Gildentongue. When Gilden-tongue's dining habits were revealed to the masses I was angered, but more concerned when it turned out that Hopsloth's own priests chose to rule in the same.highhanded fashion.

  "I sought out one who I believed would tell me what had happened to you, and found that unworthy creature, Groag." Rogate looked as though he was about to spit. "He helped me not, and soon afterward he left the city himself, to further his own ambitions."

  Toede slid a look in Bunniswot's direction, but the scholar declined to mention his tenure of eating Groag's cooking. Instead, he stared blankly out the hut door.

  Rogate continued. "I knew that retribution most divine was upon us, and began to preach, to warn others of your next return. The priests of Hopsloth crushed all dissent, and many early martyrs disappeared without trace." Rogate lowered his eyes in silence.

  "I was correct, and you did return, on the back of a great metal elephant that spoke in a mathematical tongue!

  "You were magnificent, my sage leader!" beamed Rogate.

  "You cut down the followers and guards of Hopsloth right and left, charged his fortress-lair, and dispatched him forthwith. Some say you died in the struggle, but I believed that you passed only after you had removed that foul stench from our land. It was then I founded my simple Faith-of-Toede-Returned.

  "And yet," added Rogate quickly, "the foulness reappeared. In the turmoil following your triumph against Hopsloth, a dark being returned to Flotsam, the obscenity known as Groag."

  Another silence hung in the air for a brief ice age. Toede prompted, "And then…?" But the newly christened Toedaic Knight sat, shaking his head.

  "It seems that Groag captured Rogate's audience,"

  Bunniswot put in.

  "Kidnapped!" roared Rogate. "Stole their minds and souls! Filled then with false fears and threats and had himself declared Lord of Flotsam, chosen by powers beyond our ken! It was then that the darkness truly fell, and I was forced to leave!"

  Toede was stunned. "He succeeded? Groag?" he stammered. He looked at Bunniswot. "Short fellow, whines and faints a lot?"

  The scholar nodded. "In the confusion following your… er… death, Groag arrived and usurped Rogate's preachings, but with the added punch line that he controlled your return, and unless all of Flotsam toed his line, you'd be back with a vengeance."

  "An effective argument," said Toede. "And what happened when the populace laughed in his ugly face?"

  "That's just it, they didn't laugh," said Bunniswot. 'They'd seen the local ruling class decimated twice in previous months by your apparent actions. They figured things could hardly be worse with Groag on the throne, so he took control by acclamation. After all, he claimed to be acting in your name."

  "False pretender," muttered Rogate. "False minion! And he wore a mask, so none might know his face, though many knew his touch."

  Toede was silent for a moment, unable to think of a suitable reply. Then he asked, "So how's he doing?"

  Rogate snarled. Taywin shook her shorn head. Bunniswot answered, "You know how once I told you about Renders's histories, the ones that called you a fop and fool and a bumbler?" Rogate started to snarl again, so Bunniswot quickly added, "In a moment of light jest."

  Toede nodded, an eye cast toward his new knight. "In a moment of light jest, I remember." It might be interesting having a follower with the protective nature of an attack dog.

  "Well, Groag makes you look like wise king Lorac of the Silvanesti," Bunniswot said.

  Toede leaned back against the wall and whistled. "That bad?"

  "Corruption, despotism, whimsical rulings, oppression," said Bunniswot, ticking off his fingers.

  "Nothing new there," said Toede, then added quickly for Rogate's benefit, "That's par for the course in half a dozen cities throughout Ansalon."

  "Summary executions," said Bunniswot.

  "Part of any ruler's rights," said Toede.

  "Without hearing, involving torture, and in public," sighed Bunniswot. "The bodies displayed on the gibbets for crows."

  Toede winced. "A little too much of a good thing. And was the population recalcitrant, to earn such heavy-handed responses?"

  Bunniswot shook his head. "Not before. They are now."

  "I suddenly understand why your… ah… my book on government is so popular," said Toede.

  Bunniswot nodded. "Some inhabitants fled, and many merchants avoid the city now. Groag used to threaten the populace in your name, now he just threatens them period. He has hired small armies of mercenaries to protect him and his court. Nonhumans are banned once again. Other nonhumans, that is."

  Taywin broke in. "We had heard about the new Lord of Flotsam from refugees around the time we found our hunting grounds being patrolled by hired swords. I went to Flotsam to see if it was the same Mister Groag that I had picked berries with." She touched her scalp. "It was. He had me arrested for poaching, my head shaved publicly, and my execution scheduled for the next day."

  "Unfortunately, the paperwork was lost," said the scholar innocently. "So we ferreted her out of town in a flour barrel. We hooked up with Rogate here, who had moved in with the kender."

  "We thought you'd be returning again," said Taywin.

  "In six months, as before. So in between we organized our resources and arranged to keep an eye out for you."

  "Now that you have returned," intoned Rogate, "the Allied Rebellion can move forward and crush the spine of the false minion, and spill the blood of his corruption on the sands of history!"

  "We arranged for a meeting," Bunniswot added, "with the leader of the kender: Kronin, Taywin's father. With you present we can convince him to join us, and with his approval, the kender raiders will swell our rebellion."

  "Uh-huh," said Toede. He looked at the others, then said, "And tell me, exactly, how many people do we currently have in this rebellion I am leading?"

  Taywin said brightly, her eyes shining with hope, "Including you, me, Bunniswot, Sir Rogate, and Miles… that makes five."

  Chapter 22

  The moot is met, during which Our Protagonist shows both his mettle and his metal in matters diplomatic and domestic.

  The moot that Taywin had mentioned was another name for a big kender party, and the planning for said party had been bubbling and ebbing for days. The last of the winter stores (mostly salted trout and grape preserves) were being plundered, along with the standard complement of goose, boar, and a delicacy that had eluded Toede previously-hedgehogs wrapped in mud and roasted
in their own shells.

  Toede watched the geese roasting over the fire and thought of Groag, curled up in his manor (meaning Toede's manor), seated at a table heavily laden with culinary treasures and surrounded on all sides by fawning sycophants. He could imagine that, but equally he could imagine the new lord of Flotsam tightly curled up in his bed, eyeing the darkness nervously, unable to sleep, jumping at every noise.

  From what the others had described, it sounded as though the city had fallen on hard times indeed under Groag's rule. There was little there to attract Toede, unless he put Groag's death high on his "to-do" list.

  Groag's death was on his list, but not in the top ten, to be honest. After all, the drive to claim his vaunted lordship had several times resulted in an unpleasant death. Toede might have a learning curve verging on a flat line, but he did connect Flotsam with messy, bloody deaths (usually his). Toede thought of Groag, and his drunken palate wrapped around the word: a-dap-tive.

  The problem was that his compatriots-pornographer, poetess, nut-case, and guard-were intent on helping him regain this flawed gem, this dead dog of a city, and did not care to take no for an answer. Particularly the nutcase, who, Toede was sure, would get agitated should the target of his fervor prove less than excited about the prospect of reclaiming his historical throne.

  Rogate the nut-case was wrapped up in some kind of fantasy version of justice. Taywin was in it for revenge and retribution. Bunniswot apparently considered this some great adventure, like those accursed Heroes of the Lance. And Miles?

  Toede looked at the kender guard, who hovered close by him at all times. Miles beamed back at him with a gap-toothed grin, and Toede smiled weakly. Miles? Well, someone in every revolution has to do the heavy lifting, make the tea, pass out the leaflets, and make sure the hero of the rebellion-in this case, Toede-doesn't head for the hills.

  Tomorrow, he would have to face Kronin.

  Toede winced to think of the kender leader, and wondered how Kronin felt about him. After all, it was Toede who had ordered Kronin and another kender shackled and chased on that disastrous hunt, on the last day of his first life. And even though the kender elder seemed to have a mind like a steel sieve, the pair of them had run rings around Toede and his hunting party, right up to the point when Toede confronted the fire-breathing end of an angry dragon. And died.

  Perhaps Kronin was setting Toede up. Perhaps the kender leader intended to shackle him to a boulder and give him a fifteen-minute head start before setting the hounds loose. Toede rubbed his chin at the thought. The kender were little more than savages, and Kronin could be holding a grudge.

  Then again, so could Toede. It wouldn't hurt to pack a little extra precaution.

  The present kender camp was located near the spot where Groag and he had plunged into the river almost a year ago. Most of the huts had been erected far from the water, and the intended moot-site was among the taller trees that overlooked the berry patches. Toede wandered back to his hut, his guardian in tow. Miles stopped at the entrance while Toede ducked in and searched through his meager belongings.

  Taking the sword was out of the question, unfortunately, but the dagger would be just fine. Nicely weighted, it would suitable both for throwing and for use in tight combat, while the blade was fine enough to slip between the ribs of an opponent, be he human or kender.

  Perfect precaution, thought Toede, slipping it into the oversized dwarven boots he had been wearing for a year (Krynn time). Or maybe more than just precaution. Given an opportunity, perhaps he would extract a little vengeance on his own. Kronin had caused his death, after all. The first of many, and the beginning of all his troubles.

  Not that Kronin would be alone on his list of vengeance. Groag had suggested that ill-fated hunt, after all. And Miles had been all too quick to strike him down, earlier.

  Toede realized he would have to keep expanding the list as he went along, but Kronin, Groag, and Miles would do for now.

  There was a knock, and Taywin stuck her head in, looking like a shaved chipmunk. "We're starting! Come on!"

  Toede smiled and walked out of the hut to join the others, limping only slightly from the additional weight in his boot.

  A kender moot, or at least this kender moot, differed from most regular kender festivals chiefly in that during

  the moot there were tables set up. They weren't much in the way of tables, in that they were only a foot off the ground, and the kender had to sit or kneel on the hard-packed earth, but at least they kept the food within a set boundary.

  Already several of the revelers were using the tables as impromptu dance platforms. Toede identified two polkas and a reel, dancers bouncing between tables and sending dishware and bits of the feast in all directions.

  Typical kender behavior, Toede thought.

  There were already several makeshift song groups warming up, Toede noted, including not a few rehearsing ribald choruses regarding the social habits of elves. A white-haired kender elder, his hair spun into an elaborate braid that ran to the small of his back, was leading two tables in a call-and-respond contest. The lyrics of this drinking song shot from one table to the other like a shuttlecock. Those at the first table would shout "Oly-Oly-Oly-Ay!" and those at the second table would respond "Oly-Oly-Oly-Ay!". Then the first group would shout "Aley-Aley-Aley-O!" and the second group "Aley-Aley-Aley-O!" The kender at both tables would spend the time between responses drinking as quickly and as much as they could. This continued until both sides passed out.

  Toede suddenly understood why Taywin's poetry might be considered sophisticated among these people. Then again, so might limericks about the Dark Queen's consorts.

  Miles escorted Toede to the main table, situated on a patch of earth slightly higher than the rest, with a wall of woven grass behind it to frame the utmost important personages at the feast. These personages were Kronin's cronies, and in this case, leaders of the rebellion.

  Miles was on the end, then Rogate and Bunniswot (both looking terribly uncomfortable and oversized). Then Toede, seated in the place of honor on Kronin's right. Then Taywin on his left, along with a pack of kender politicos-clan leaders and the like. The entire group was seated on one side of the table looking out over the assembled tribes.

  Just what Toede had in mind for a pleasant evening- watching a hundred kender gorge themselves.

  As Toede was duly escorted to his place of honor, Kro-nin rose to greet him. The kender leader always reminded Toede of a white-tufted squirrel, his childlike but ancient face looking as though it had walnuts stored in its cheeks. Toede pulled out his all-purpose let's-be-nice-to-the-local-ruling-class smile and warmly took the kender's extended hand.

  "It is good to see you again, Toede," said Kronin.

  "And you as well," beamed Toede. "Especially under such pleasant circumstances."

  "More pleasant than last time, eh?" joshed Kronin, elbowing Toede in the ribs. The hobgoblin had to fight with all his willpower to avoid pulling the dagger and stabbing the cheery little freak right where he stood.

  Instead he said, "At least the food is better."

  "It should be," smiled the elder kender. "It came from your forest."

  "It's not my forest," smiled Toede, adding, "Anymore." But he added silently, At the moment.

  Toede looked for some clue behind Kronin's eyes, some telltale glint that this moot was in fact a ruse, a trap, or a stratagem. Yet if there was revenge in Kronin's heart, it was carefully concealed, for Toede could discern no apparent clue. This worried him further.

  Toede remained standing as Kronin motioned for the kender horde to quiet down.

  "Welcome to the moot, all the clans of kenderdom!" There was polite applause. Someone yelled 'Toast!"

  Kronin continued without pause. "I want to thank all and sundry for coming on this festive occasion, in particular our human guests." Rogate and Bunniswot nodded to general clapping. "Especially our honored guest, the Highmaster-in-Exile of Flotsam, Lord Toede." Toede nodded to decidedly les
s applause, and there was another shout for "Toast!"

  "His highmastership spent a few brief days with us almost a year ago," Kronin added, "and was responsible for saving the life of my lovely daughter." More applause, though this was mostly for Taywin, who waved at the assemblage.

  Kronin motioned to Toede that now he was expected to utter a few words. The hobgoblin cleared his voice. "My only regret is that I was not here long enough in days of yore to get to know every one of you wonderful kender." Greater applause to this compliment, and Toede sat back down, thinking, And I further regret not having a team of talented torturers with me at the time.

  During Toede's small speech, Kronin rescued from the table a wooden goblet that he now held aloft. "I give you the first toast of the evening." There was wild applause, and Kronin looked pensive, as if summoning some ghost of a memory. Then he proclaimed, "Drink deep the cup of life, for time will sup it if you do not." It was an appropriate toast, and there were cheers and the clinking of mugs.

  Kronin turned to the hobgoblin, clacking goblets with him. Toede nodded politely. "A good toast," he said. Kronin smiled. "It should be, you wrote it." Toede's smile froze for an instant. Then he said smoothly, 'True, but you seem to have caught the nuance of the passage perfectly. I have never heard it recited better." He added the mental note that, until he himself had read the dratted thing, he had best assume that every smutty or hedonistic statement uttered around him was a quote from his supposed book.

  Kronin did not seem to notice Toede's tightened facial muscles. "When I first read the book, I couldn't believe you were responsible for it. It's so… deep. Thoughtful. Intelligent."

  Toede tried to unclench his teeth. "Surprised?" he asked.

  "Very," responded Kronin, ignoring the color crawling into Toede's face. "I mean, in our limited dealings, you struck me as a bully, a lout, and a simpleton. No offense meant."

  "None taken," said Toede, aware of the drag of the dagger in his boot.