Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

“Verminaard has no right to rule us!” Realgar declared sulkily.

Dray-yan sighed deeply. “His Lordship’s ambition is vast, as are his appetites. Not that this in any way diminishes his greatness,” he added hastily.

“I asked for his help in making me king,” Realgar stated. “If I had known he planned to claim the throne himself, I would have never brought him in on this deal. I will be king, no one else, especially no human.”

He brooded awhile, then regarded Dray-yan with speculative interest. “You seem to be intelligent—for a lizard, that is.”

Dray-yan didn’t dare glance at Grag, for fear they’d both burst out laughing.

“I am grateful for your good opinion, Thane,” said Dray-yan. He added, with a sigh, “I wish His Lordship shared it.”

“You speak as though you were willing to switch allegiance,” said Realgar, “serve a new master.”

“Grag and I might consider it,” said Dray-yan, “depending on what was in it for us.”

“Your own share of the profits.”

Dray-yan and Grag discussed this proposition.

“The weasel has taken the bait,” said the aurak in draconian. “As we discussed, when this hammer is recovered I will keep the Thanes distracted—or rather, ‘His Lordship’ will keep them distracted. Your troops will enter Thorbardin, take over and occupy key dwarven fortifications.” Grag nodded. “The troops are assembled in the tunnel, awaiting my command. If the hammer is found, the dwarves will take it to the location they call the Temple of the Stars. Once the Thanes have assembled, we can seal the exits, trapping them and the hammer inside.”

“After his lordship has met his sad end,” Dray-yan said, “and the hammer is safely in my hands, I will have a little talk with the Thanes. I will let them know who is going to be in charge from now on.” He cast a baleful glance at Realgar.

“We draconians will be the first in the Dark Queen’s service to conquer a nation of Ansalon,” Grag observed. “Emperor Ariakas cannot choose but to grant us the respect we deserve. Perhaps someday a draconian will be the one to wear the Crown of Power.”

Dray-yan could almost feel that crown upon his own scaly head. He reluctantly tore himself away from his dream and returned to business.

“Grag and I have spoken,” said Dray-yan to the Theiwar. “We agree to your terms.”

“I thought you lizards might,” said Realgar with a sneer.

“We have devised a plan to deal with His Lordship,” Dray-yan continued, “but first, Grag and I are concerned about these six assassins who have entered your realm. These men are in the pay of the elves. They were sent into Pax Tharkas to try to kill His Lordship. He survived the attack, but they managed to escape.”

“You sound as though you’re afraid of these criminals,” said Realgar. Dray-yan’s claws twitched. He had something very special in mind for Realgar once he took over.

“I do not fear them,” Dray-yan said. “I do respect them, however, as should you. They are clever, and they are skilled, and they have the blessings of their gods.”

“ And they are dead,” said Realgar smugly. “You need not worry about them.” Dray-yan’s tongue flicked in and out. He didn’t believe Realgar.

“Dead? How?” he asked sharply.

He was interrupted by a dwarf, who came running into the Thane’s sinkhole of a dwelling place. The dwarf began gabbling in his own language. Realgar listened with interest. His scraggly beard parted in a rotted-toothed grin. At almost the same moment, a baaz draconian entered. He saluted and waited for Grag to acknowledge him.

The baaz made his report, who relayed the news to Dray-yan.

“A small band of humans are approaching the Northgate. It looks like a scouting party.”

“My fugitive slaves?”

“Almost certainly. One of them is that extremely tall Plainsman who fought Verminaard. He leads others like him, all dressed in animal skins—six total. An elf lord travels with them. He was also seen at Pax Tharkas.”

“I take it we have received the same news,” said Realgar, who was watching the draconians closely. “Human warriors have arrived at Northgate.”

“Yes,” Dray-yan responded. “The same criminals who escaped us in Pax Tharkas.”

“Praise Her Dark Majesty,” said Realgar, rubbing his dirty hands together in satisfaction. “They will not escape us here.”

“1 will send my forces to destroy them,” Grag began.

“No, wait!” Realgar interposed. “They’re not to be slain. I want at least two of them captured alive.”

“A live enemy is a dangerous enemy,” said Grag. “Kill them and be done with it.”

“Normally, I would agree,” said Realgar, “but I need this scum as proof to Hornfel and the other Council members that a human army is planning to invade us. I will bring these spies before the Council, exhibit them, and make them confess. Hornfel will have no choice but to close the Northgate, which will ensure that our secret dealings with the dragonarmy will continue. The Theiwar will grow rich and powerful. The Hylar will starve. I will soon be ruler under the mountain—hammer or no hammer.”

“You know, of course, that there is no human army,” Grag said. “They are merely desperate slaves. Why should these humans say otherwise?”

“When I am finished with them, they will not only claim they are leaders of an army sent here to attack us, they will believe their confessions, and so will all who hear them. In the meantime, you and your troops will go down into the forest, track down these other humans, and kill them.”

“I do not take my orders from you—” Grag began, his clawed hand reaching for the hilt of his sword.

“Patience, Commander,” Dray-yan counseled, adding in their own language, “This Realgar may be a weasel, but he is a cunning weasel. Do as he commands in regard to the slaves. Take them alive. We will let him think he is in control for the time being. Meanwhile, I want you to make certain he is telling the truth. Find out if the assassins have been slain, as he claims. If not, you deal with them.”

“Stop hissing at each other! From now on, you’ll speak Common when you’re in my presence. What did you just say to him?” Realgar demanded suspiciously.

“What you told me to say, Thane,” Dray-yan replied humbly. “I relayed your orders to Grag, telling him his men are to capture the Plainsmen alive.”

Realgar grunted. “Take them to the dungeons once you have them. I will be there to question them.”

“Commander, you heard the Thane’s orders,” said Dray-yan in Common. He glanced back at Realgar. “You have no objection, I take it, to allowing Commander Grag to view the bodies of the six assassins?”

“Nothing easier,” said Realgar. “I will send some of my people to escort him.” He gestured to a couple of Theiwar, who stood lurking in the shadows.

“I suppose this Grag is capable of handling my orders?” Realgar added, casting the draconian commander a disparaging glance.

“He’s very intelligent,” Dray-yan replied dryly, “for a lizard.”

“The helm was cursed,” Arman said, his voice trembling with anger and fear. He rounded on Flint. “You have lured us to our doom!”

Flint’s gut twisted. He imagined for one terrible moment what it would be like to be imprisoned here, left to die, then he remembered touching the stone hand of the Prince, the feeling of peace that had stolen over him.

“You didn’t expect to walk in and find the Hammer lying on the floor, did you?” he asked Arman. “We’ll be tested, like as not, before we find it. We might well die, but we weren’t sent here to die.”