Douglas Niles - The Kinslayer Wars

storm the walls.”

“Good. It is as I hoped,” Kith replied. Nevertheless he was relieved.

“However, the pressure is increasing. We have word of a team of dwarven engineers—Theiwar, apparently—aiding the humans in excavating siege works against the walls. Also, the number of wild elves throwing in their lot with Ergoth is increasing steadily. There are more than a thousand of them, and apparently they have been formed into a ‘free elf company’.”

“Fighting their own people?” Sithas was aghast at the notion. His face reddened with controlled fury.

“More and more of them have questioned the right of Silvanost to rule them. And an expedition of the wild elves of the Kagonesti arrived here shortly after you left to plead for an end to the bloodshed.”

“The ignoble scum!” Sithas rose to his feet and stalked across the chamber before whirling to face Quimant. Vivid lines of anger marred his face. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” Quimant replied, his own face displaying a smug grin. “They have spent the winter in your dungeon. Perhaps you’d care to speak to them yourself!”

“Good.” Sithas nodded approvingly. “We can’t have this kind of demonstration. We’ll make an example of them to discourage any further treachery.”

Kith-Kanan faced his brother. “Don’t you want to—at the very least—hear what they have to say?”

Sithas looked at him as if he spoke a different language. “Why? They’re traitors, that’s obvious! Why should we—”

“Traitors? They have come here to talk. The traitors are those who have joined the enemy out of hand! We need to ask questions!”

“I find it astonishing that you, of all of us, should take this approach,” Sithas said softly. “You are the one who has to carry out our plans, the one whose life is most at risk. Can you not understand that these ... elves"—Sithas spat the word as if it were anathema—“should be dealt with quickly and ruthlessly?”

“If they are indeed traitors, of course! But you can take the trouble to hear them first, to find out if they are in fact treacherous or simply honest citizens living in danger and fear!”

Sithas and Kith-Kanan glowered at each other like fierce strangers. Tamanier Ambrodel quietly watched the exchange. He had offered no opinion on any topic as yet, and he felt that this was not the time to interject his view. Lord Quimant, however, was more forthright.

“General, Excellency, please . . . there are more details. Some of the news is urgent.” The lord stood and raised his hands.

Sithas nodded and collapsed into his chair. Kith-Kanan remained standing, turning expectantly toward the lord regent.

“Word out of Thorbardin arrived barely a fortnight ago. The ambassador, Than-Kar of the Theiwar clan, reported it to me in a most unpleasant and arrogant tone. His king, he claims, has ruled this to be a war between the humans and elves. The dwarves are determined to remain neutral.”

“No troops? They will send us nothing?” Kith-Kanan stared at Quimant, appalled. Just when he had begun to see a glimmer of hope on the military horizon, to get news like this! Nothing could be more disastrous. The general slowly slumped into his chair, trying unsuccessfully to fight a rising wave of nausea.

Shaking his head in shock, he looked at his brother, expecting to see the same sense of dismay written across Sithas’s face. Instead, however, the speaker’s eyes had narrowed in an inscrutable expression. Didn’t he understand?

“This is catastrophic!” Kith-Kanan exclaimed, angry that the Speaker didn’t seem to grasp this basic fact. “Without the dwarves, we are doomed to be terribly outnumbered in every battle. Even with the griffons, we can’t prevail against a quarter of a million men!”

“Indeed,” Sithas agreed calmly. Finally he spoke to Ambrodel. “And your own mission, my lord, does that bear this information out?” Lord Quimant gave a start when he realized that Sithas was addressing Ambrodel.

“Rather dramatically not, Excellency,” Ambrodel replied softly. Kith-Kanan and Lord Quimant both stared at the chamberlain in mixed astonishment.

“I regret the subterfuge, my lords. The Speaker of the Stars instructed me to reveal my mission to no one, to report only to him.”

“There was no reason to say anything—not until now,” Sithas said. Once again, the others felt that commanding tone in his voice that brought all discussion to an abrupt halt. “If the lord chamberlain will continue . . .?”

“Of course, Your Excellency.” Ambrodel turned to include them all in his explanation. “I have wintered in the dwarven kingdom of Thorbardin.”

“What?” Quimant’s jaw dropped. Kith-Kanan remained silent, but his lips compressed into a tight smile as he began to appreciate his brother’s wiliness.

“It had been the Speaker’s assessment, very early on, that Ambassador Than-Kar was not doing an appropriately thorough job of maintaining open and honest communication between our two realms.”

“I see,” Quimant said, with a formal nod.

“Indeed, as events have developed, our esteemed leader’s assessment has been proven to be accurate.”

“Than-Kar has deliberately sabotaged our negotiations?” demanded Kith.

“Blatantly. King Hal-Waith has long backed our cause, as it was presented to him by Dunbarth Ironthumb upon that ambassador’s return home. Than-Kar’s original mission had been to report to us the king’s intent to send twenty-five thousand troops to aid our cause.”

“But I saw no sign of these troops on the plain. There is no word of them now, is there?” Kith-Kanan probed.

Quimant shook his head. “No—and certainly reports would have reached Silvanost had they marched during the winter.”

“They did not march, not then,” continued Ambrodel. “The offer of aid came with several conditions attached, conditions which Than-Kar reported to his king that we were unwilling to accept.”

“Conditions?” Now Kith was concerned. “What conditions?”

“Fairly reasonable, under the circumstances. The dwarves recognize you as overall commander of the army, but they will not allow their own units to be broken up into smaller detachments—and dwarven units will work only under dwarven leaders.”

“Those commanders presumably answerable to me under battle conditions?” Kith-Kanan asked.

“Yes,” Ambrodel nodded.

The elven general couldn’t believe his ears. Dwarven fighting prowess and tactical mastery were legendary. And twenty-five thousand such warriors . . . why, if they fought alongside griffon cavalry, the siege of Sithelbec might be lifted in a long afternoon of fighting!

“There were some other minor points, also very reasonable. Bodies to be shipped to Thorbardin for burial, dwarven holidays honored, a steady supply of ale maintained, and so on. I do not anticipate any objection on your part.”

“Of course not!” Kith-Kanan sprang to his feet again, this time in excitement. Then he remembered the obstruction presented by Than-Kar, and his mood darkened. “Have you concluded the deal? Must we still work through the ambassador? How long—”

Ambrodel smiled and held up his hands. “The army was mustering as I left. For all I know, they have already emerged from the underground realm. They would march, I was promised, when the snowmelt in the Kharolis Mountains allowed free passage.” The chamberlain shivered as he remembered the long, dark winter he spent there. “It never gets warm in Thorbardin. You’re always damp and squinting through the dark. By the gods, who knows how the dwarves can stand living underground?”

“And the ambassador?” This time Sithas asked the question. Once again those lines of anger tightened his face as he pondered the extent of Than-Kar’s duplicity.