Margaret Weis - Dragons of the Highlord Skies

Ariakas appeared to find this satisfactory, for he indicated with a gesture that Grag was to proceed. Ariakas did not sit down, nor did he invite the draconian to be seated. Kitiara could not sit down either, since her commander was still upright, but she made herself at ease by leaning back against a table.

Grag related the tale of how Verminaard had died at the hands of assassins; how the aurak, Dray-yan, had conceived the idea of masquerading as Verminaard in order to keep up the pretence that the Dragon Highlord was still alive; how Grag and Dray-yan had plotted the downfall of Thorbardin; how they would have been successful, but their plans were thwarted by magic, treachery, and the gods of Light.

Grag could see Ariakas growing more and more enraged as he went on with his report. When Grag reluctantly reached the part where Dray-yan toppled into the pit, Kitiara burst out laughing. Ariakas, infuriated, drew his sword from its sheath and began to advance on the draconian.

Grag ceased talking abruptly and backed up a step. His clawed fingers twitched; he was readying a magic spell. He might die, but by Takhisis he would not die alone.

Still chuckling, Kitiara casually reached out her hand and laid it restrainingly on Ariakas’s massive forearm.

“At least do not slay Commander Grag until he has finished his report, my lord,” Kitiara said. “I, for one, am curious to hear the rest of the story.”

“I’m glad you find it so damn amusing,” Ariakas snarled, seething. He slammed his sword back into its sheath, though he kept his hand on the hilt and eyed Grag grimly. “I do not see anything funny about it. Thorbardin remains in the control of the Hylar dwarves, who are now stronger than ever, since they have recovered that magical hammer, and they have opened their long-sealed gates to the world. The iron, steel and wealth of the dwarven kingdom which should be flowing into our coffers is flowing into the hands of our enemies! All because Verminaard managed to get himself assassinated and then some fool aurak with delusions of grandeur takes a dive into a bottomless pit!”

“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 of 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 a 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 large 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, 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 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 placed 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.

“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 unflinchingly. 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 asked.

“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.”