“Hello, my name’s Delbin. What’s yours?”
The gully dwarf blinked, then replied, “Galump. Galump is Galump’s name. Delbin’s a kender.”
“Yes, I am. What’re you doing down here? Are you a prisoner, too? Did you escape? They certainly have good chains here, so if you know how to unlock them, I’d sure like to know.”
It took the raggedy figure some time to digest this before finally answering, “Galump’s no prisoner. Galump does what minotaurs say he do.”
Delbin recalled the collars he had seen the gully dwarves wearing. He did not think it was nice that the minotaurs made the poor creatures do such tasks and wear such nasty collars.
The gully dwarf suddenly dropped out of sight. Delbin recalled almost too late the short attention spans of these lowly creatures. “Wait, Galump!”
Galump popped back up into sight. He had to hang on to the door to be able to peer inside. “What Delbin want?”
“Can you help me get out of here?”
This seemed to sadden the gully dwarf. “Galump can’t do that, no, he can’t. If he could, he would help nice human girl, nice girl who mean bull who hits Galump keeps in cell.”
Another prisoner? “If you help me, maybe I can help her. We could all escape together.”
Even though all Delbin could see of Galump was the top half of his head, the gully dwarf’s fearful reaction was evident. “No! Galump could not do! Disobey the high one and he’ll eat us like he eats the others!”
“Eats the others?” People thought it was difficult to keep track of what kender said, but Delbin thought Galump’s kind was the most baffling race. “What do you mean? You don’t mean he actually eats them, because that’s highly unlikely. What you probably mean is that he punishes them badly, but don’t worry, because if we get the girl—a human girl?—out, then we can go to my friend Kaz and he’ll protect us—”
“No!” The gully dwarf dropped out of sight, his disappearance followed a moment later by the sound of light, receding footfalls.
He sure is afraid of the high priest, Delbin thought. He really believes the high priest minotaur will eat him, but minotaurs don’t eat other races, as far as I know, even though they’re descended from ogres and long, long ago, like my friend Kaz told me, ogres sometimes …”
A human girl?
“Now what would a minotaur want with a human girl?” Delbin whispered to the emptiness. “Maybe she’s a slave like poor Galump. Maybe she’s a princess the high priest is holding hostage.” Delbin cared very little for this high priest. He was not a nice minotaur, not if he was making gully dwarves and little human girls into slaves.
“Well, I’ll just have to save her, and Galump … and all the other gully dwarves and prisoners the high priest has and deliver them to Kaz. He’ll know what to do. He will.”
With renewed gusto he went to work on the lock. Normally kender enjoyed the challenge of a good lock, but this time Delbin was impatient. He had to get going. He had to rescue this princess. She was probably a shy, helpless young lass who had never been outside in the real world, not like him. Maybe she would reward Kaz and him for rescuing her by showing them her kingdom.
Orderly footfalls in the corridor caused him to quickly hide the pick. The newcomers drew nearer and nearer until they finally paused before his cell. He made out two guards and one figure clad in the robes of the priesthood.
One of the guards opened the door. Both entered, to be followed by the most sinister minotaur Delbin had ever seen. The kender actually felt a twinge of fear, something rarely experienced by any of his kind.
“I am Jopfer, High Priest of the Temple of Sargas, the Soul of the State. I would like to speak to you about your friend Kaziganthi.” He leaned forward and stared into the kender’s eyes. “And you will answer me as I desire. Do you understand?”
The fear grew stronger … and the simple fact that it did frightened the kender more than the fear itself.
Chapter 13
The Red Dragon
———
Scurn was in a foul mood. Not only had he been humiliated in the circus again, but he was now out of favor with both the high priest and the Supreme Circle. His only hope was to recapture Kaz and his companions before someone else did, not an easy task, since there were search parties all over Nethosak. Of course, some of the parties had spent more time sparring with each other than searching, which was some consolation. The servants of the Supreme Circle had little love for the servants of the state priesthood, and vice versa. Neither cared for the members of the guard. Members of the guard, in turn, thought little of either group.
Scurn drank from his tankard, finding only the dregs of his ale remaining. Yet another thing to curse about. Still, it was probably good fortune that he had finished his drink. He was due back at guard quarters. Scurn had, through his rank, pulled the authority for yet another search party. This time, he swore, he would find Kaz and see to it that his rival was dragged before Jopfer himself.
As Scurn rose, he mulled over his latest humiliation. Truth to tell, he secretly admired Kaz’s combat skills. Kaz had defeated him fairly, but leaving Scurn alive but unconscious was an insult. Kaz should have killed him, as such a combat demanded. By leaving the guard captain alive and relatively unharmed, he had belittled Scum’s skill.
You should have killed me, Kaz, he thought. An honorable death was preferable to a bloodless defeat. Scurn felt diminished in the eyes of his warriors. Only Kaz’s capture or death would appease the disfigured captain.
Scurn exited the tavern, his mind on where to search next. He wanted to check back with his old clan. Orilg was hiding something. Even Dastrun, who was supposed to be a supporter of the emperor, had said nothing of value when questioned. Yet Scurn was certain the clan had harbored the fugitives for a short time. He had a witness who claimed to have observed members of Orilg behaving suspiciously outside the circus at the time of Kaz’s disappearance.
I should go back and shake old Dastrun by the collar until he talks! He knows. He does.
The main quarters of the guard lay just ahead. Because of its importance, the headquarters was not all that far from the emperor and the circus. Scurn picked up his pace, growing more eager to renew the hunt. He recalled now that Ganth had many former comrades among the mariners. There were more than a few who might be willing to give him and his son shelter. He also needed to consider the sector where untried or failed minotaurs made their humble homes. One of these multiple dwellings could easily serve to hide Kaz, Ganth, and Hecar. That sector was overdue for a scouring anyway.
“Captain Scurn?” called a female voice.
He paused and turned. A female warrior several years younger than him ran up, breathing heavily. He did not recognize her, but pinned on her chest was the badge of the guard, a circle within which was depicted a watchful eye superimposed over an axe. “I’m Captain Scurn. What is it you want?”
She gave him a salute, then, gasping, said, “I was sent to find you. The sergeant on duty said you were at the Baleful Basilisk, but I couldn’t find you there. So I decided to check this area.”
“You must’ve just missed me. Now spit it out. What’s got you running?”
“Captain, there is news that the fugitives have been spotted in the wharf district! Your second took the search party out, but I was left behind to inform you! If we hurry, we can meet them by the warship Sea Lancer.”
“The Sea Lancer?” Scurn did not know that particular vessel. “Is Kaz there?”
“So the rumor goes. The captain is an old member of his father’s crew.”
“So I was right!” The captain seized her by the shoulders. “Quickly! How long ago? They aren’t simply going to board the ship, are they?”
“No, Captain. Right now they’re waiting for you. If I don’t show up with you soon, though …”
“Then let’s get going!” Scurn rushed past her in the direction of the docks.
She fell into step beside him, now silent. That
suited Scurn, who was busy thinking. Kaz was familiar with the area, which meant the guard had to be doubly careful. Fortunately, Scurn himself was familiar with the docks, having worked there for quite some time.
The female hurried ahead of him, saying, “We should turn down this way. The other path is blocked by construction work.”
“Construction work?” Scurn could not recall any work, and he had been down that street the previous day. “What work?”
“They’ve decided to expand the woodworks again. It started only this afternoon, but they’re going to be working through the night, Captain.”
“Hmmph.” On the whole, the news was not that surprising. The woodworks were vital not only for shipbuilding, but in other areas of construction as well. They had been enlarged once before, but with activity at its highest since the peak of the war, Scurn could see why the circle would demand improvement.
He turned down the path, again pulling ahead of her in his impatience. The street here was much more narrow, almost an alley, but it did lead in the direction of the docks. Scurn paid his dark surroundings little heed. He saw the like often enough in his duties.
The shadowy form of a tall minotaur materialized before him, almost as if by magic. In one hand he wielded a sword that was pointed at Scurn. The newcomer’s intention was clear even if his features were not.
“Stand where you are,” the figure said in a gravelly voice.
“You’re a fool—” Scurn began, but then a second figure wielding an axe appeared, settling into a fighting stance. Even without being able to see their features, Scurn knew who at least one of this pair had to be.
“Kaz—” he began, reaching for his weapon, but choking on his next words … this time because a sword point prodded his back.
“No sounds, no moves,” his own companion said in his ear.
“Very well done, Lass,” said a new voice. “Smooth as a morning breeze, you were.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Father? Scurn wanted to turn around and look at the female, but sensed that her warning was a serious one. It was one thing to die in combat, but another to die uselessly in a dark alley. He would wait. Kaz and the others wanted him for some reason, and he suspected it had to do with that blasted kender that had been captured at the circus.
The scarred warrior relaxed more. The opportunity for triumph still remained. Somehow he would turn this latest humiliation into victory.
Kaz eyed Scurn carefully, noting that his adversary was calmer than he would have expected. That bothered him somewhat, but he could not let it overwhelm his thoughts. The plan had to proceed at the prearranged pace if it was to succeed. They had to strike when the temple was at its most subdued.
There were those who would have called his plan insane, and Kaz was one of them. Still, if minotaur tendencies ran true, invading the citadel of Sargas might prove far easier than anyone could imagine. The minotaur clerics thought that no one would ever be so mad as to enter their domain without permission. That was the sort of attitude Kaz had made use of many times in the past against opponents who, while skilled, had grown too careless with their power.
“Greetings, Scurn.”
The disfigured minotaur snorted, but said nothing. He was taking Fliara’s sword very seriously, a wise thing to do. At a nod from Kaz, she removed Scum’s weapons, including the small dagger that most minotaurs wore on their kilts.
“Now then, Scurn, let’s talk. I’m glad to see you’re the creature of habit I remember, but we did have to wait a while longer than I wanted. Still the same taverns and inns. Still the same impetuous behavior.” Scurn glared. Kaz lowered his voice. “You’re an excellent warrior, Scurn. Never doubt that I respect your abilities and even, at times, your sense of honor and dedication. I never chose to make an enemy out of you.”
“You—” the captain started, before Fliara reminded him of the blade in his back.
“Best to get on with it, Lad,” recommended Ganth. “You’ll never change his mind. Dedicated he is, to the point of obsession. He’ll not see anything but the side he’s already chosen, and that’s that.”
Kaz knew that was true. He said, “I’ll offer you the chance to gain your life and freedom, Scurn. I want something from you, and in return I’ll let you go. You’ll be free to hunt me down again and challenge me to proper combat. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? The circus doesn’t count. The situation there was awkward at best. You want me in formal combat, warrior against warrior, just as you did when you tracked me down three years ago.”
Scurn saw that it was true. He might want Kaz captured, tossed into the arena, and killed there, but deep down, the captain’s greatest pleasure would be to defeat Kaz in hand-to-hand combat once and for all. Of course, that did not mean that Scurn would work to see that dream come true. First and foremost, he wanted Kaz … period.
“What do you want from me?” Scurn finally asked. “It must be something important. It can’t really be that kender, can it?”
Fliara did not remind him of her presence again. Scurn could be ignorant, but he was not stupid. However, Kaz also knew that by allowing his rival to think that he, Scurn, controlled some bit of the situation, the scarred minotaur was more likely to go along with their demands. Kaz was familiar with the way minotaurs such as Scurn thought. The captain would be working on the assumption that he would betray his captors at some point. He would, if things went as planned, agree to help them.
“You’re our guide,” Ganth informed the prisoner. “We are all going to see His Holiness.”
“You expect me to take you into the temple?” Scurn started to laugh, then remembered Fliara’s sword. “You might as well surrender to me now. At least you’ll have a chance of dying honorably in the circus.”
“Nobody needs to die, Scurn, not if we do this the way I ask. That includes you.”
“So you say, but I’m more likely to get run through from behind when you don’t need me anymore, aren’t I?”
Kaz stepped closer, matching gazes with the other. “I don’t want that to happen. Do you?”
Scurn was the first to look away. “No, like you, I want to see the axe coming!”
“Your choice, Scurn. Your life and freedom. All you have to do is lead us inside and past the acolytes. What we do after that is up to us.”
The captain straightened. “All right. Not that I’ve got much choice. You’ll be walking to your deaths, though. The high priest is not as kind as I’d be.”
“Aye,” Ganth interjected, “you’re kindness incarnate. Now turn around.”
Scurn obeyed. Ganth reached into a pouch and from it removed badges identical to the ones Fliara and Scurn already wore. Despite himself, the prisoner could not help but grunt in surprise.
“Amazing how these things can be found lying around,” Ganth commented. Members of the guard faced serious reprimand for lost badges, so they generally took care of them.
“Where did you get those?”
“No time for questions now,” Kaz reminded him. Even he did not know where Ganth had found the old badges. The mariner had asked his son not to ask, and Kaz respected that wish.
“Are we leaving now?” asked Hecar.
“Yes, we’re ready to leave.” Kaz faced his companions. “We need to be in and out of there. You all know your tasks. Anyone who doesn’t want to commit suicide with me can leave now.”
“You gave that speech before, Brother,” Fliara piped up. “None of us paid it any mind then, and none of us does now.” She tapped Scurn on the back. “Except maybe this one here.”
“Let’s get going, Son,” Ganth commented. “I’ve got a pair of new grandchildren I’m looking forward to meeting.”
“Let’s move, then.”
The party started toward the temple. Scurn walked in front, with Ganth on one side and Fliara on the other. Kaz followed, with Hecar close behind. Everyone now had their weapons drawn except for Kaz, who had a role to play, and, of course, Scurn.
&n
bsp; Nethosak never truly slept, especially these days, but few minotaurs roamed the streets at this hour. A few passed by the group, but other than a furtive glance, most looked quickly away. It was not healthy to bring oneself to the attention of the guard.
They neared the temple much too soon. Torches lit the entrance, and two sentries clad in the colors of the priesthood stood at attention. Kaz glanced at the windows of the edifice and saw that most of them were dark. By now, the high priest would have retired, along with most of his staff. There would be some guards on duty, and a few acolytes.
“You don’t think this’ll work, do you?” Scurn whispered.
“It’ll work, or the last thing you’ll feel is this blade running through your stomach,” Fliara commented matter-of-factly.
“Amusing,” replied Scurn. “But not as amusing as this little plan of yours.”
They marched up with Scurn looking as if he were in full command of the situation. The guards looked poised to block their path, but Scurn showed his badge of rank and informed them, “I’ve got a prisoner that the high priest wants to question.” He indicated Kaz. “A companion of the chief fugitive being hunted tonight. Let us pass.”
The pair looked at one another, then the larger of the two nodded, at which point they stepped aside.
Expression set, Scurn led the group past. The doorway opened from within. Another pair of guards waited, but they were the only ones Kaz could see.
An acolyte met them when the doors were closed behind them. He looked slightly irritated, as if they had just disturbed him from his catnap. It was interesting, Kaz noted, but the higher the rank of a cleric in the temple of Sargas, the less devout they seemed to be. Oh, they performed all the same ceremonies, but their smug attitudes made them almost interchangeable with the staffs of the eight members of the Supreme Circle.
“What is it you want, Captain? His Holiness has retired for the evening.”
“I’ve got a prisoner he’ll want to see first thing in the morning,” Scurn replied without prompting. “A companion of the chief fugitive, Kaz. He knows the kender, too.”
Land of the Minotaurs Page 21
