Jeff Crook - The Rose and the Skull

"Lord Tohr, may I introduce to you the master of my hounds-Uhoh Ragnap, esquire," Gunthar said.

"Oh, hello, Papa," Uhoh said. "I not see you when I come in. I find Millisant. Sleep now." He flopped down beside Garr and seemed ready to do just that.

"Lord Gunthar, why must you allow these gully dwarves to sleep in here? With their stink, they'll ruin the hounds' noses for sure," Fawkes complained.

"Master Uhoh knows the rules," Gunthar said. "Regular bathing for everyone, every day, for three days before the hunt," Gunthar added. "Uhoh, I'd like you to meet Lord Tohr Malen. Lord Tohr is a Knight who'll be staying with us for a while."

Uhoh remained seated on the floor, staring up at Lord Tohr. He seemed most intent on Tohr's armor, with its skull and thorn and lily symbols, and the symbol of the five-headed dragon of Takhisis. He scratched his head through his rat-skin cap, as though trying to remember something. Slowly, he stood and settled his baggy clothes around his body.

"Very pleased meeting you," he said, extending his hand to Lord Tohr.

"He is remarkable, for a gully dwarf," Tohr said from the corner of his mouth as he gingerly shook Uhoh's small, filthy hand. "That's a very interesting name you have there, Uhoh. How did you come by it."

"Ragnap very old and pres… pres… pres-something name. It go back two generations," Uhoh said proudly.

"I meant your first name. How did you get the name 'Uhoh?'"

"All Aghar get name when born. I get name. Brother get name. Momma get name. Everybody get name. Why you get name?"

"But why were you called 'Uhoh?' Tohr asked slowly.

"Momma got to call me something. Can't call me 'Hey you!'" the gully dwarf said a little angrily.

"I see, but what I meant was…"

"That my brother's name," Uhoh said.

Tohr stopped. "What is?" he asked.

"Heyoo. Heyoo Ragnap," Uhoh said.

Lord Tohr turned an exasperated glance upon Gunthar and found him suppressing a smile. "Perhaps I can help," Gunthar said, stepping forward and laying a calming hand on Tohr's shoulder. "Uhoh, tell us the story of when your mother named you."

"Good story, Papa. My favorite," Uhoh said with a smile. He flopped to the floor and leaned back against Garr's chest. "Now, long time, two summers ago, I born. Momma hold me when Aunt Oopsie say, 'What you name pretty boy?' Momma don't know, so she shrug, and drop me plop! on head. She look down and say, 'Uhoh.' "

Scattered applause sounded from the pile of dogs in the center of the room. During the discussion, several of the gully dwarves sleeping there had wakened. Apparently the story was also one of their favorites, for they continued to clap, though few had moved. Uhoh nodded his head and smiled at them.

"Well, enough with tales," Gunthar said with a yawn. "Time for bed. Good night, Uhoh."

"G'night, Papa," the gully dwarf answered as he stretched and yawned, then curled up beside Garr. The hound laid his head on Uhoh's thigh.

"And remember, baths for everyone three days before the hunt," Gunthar said.

"Yes, Papa. Two days," Uhoh mumbled sleepily.

Gunthar walked with Lord Tohr, discussing matters of lands and castles to be garrisoned by various Knights, and of formalities needed to be performed before the joining of their two orders. Finally, they reached the guests' chambers, and Gunthar stopped before the door to Tohr's rooms.

"I'm still worried about that note," he commented as he prepared to leave. "Perhaps I should post a guard before your door," Gunthar said. "Someone I can trust."

"There is no need, Lord Gunthar," Tohr said. "I don't believe there is any real danger, and if there is, well…" he patted the mace which hung at his belt. "I'm not too old to swing old Belle."

"Your mace is named Belle?" Gunthar asked. "How interesting. My wife's name was Belle."

"Yes, I know. My condolences on your loss, Lord Gunthar," Tohr said, bowing.

"Thank you, sir," Gunthar said. "She lived a full life. Do you know, this bedroom was our bedroom before she passed. When she died, I hadn't the heart to stay here, so I moved to a smaller, cozier room in another part of the castle."

"I do not blame you. Surely, the memories associated with this chamber are still too fresh in your mind," Tohr sympathized.

"Yes, well, good night again,"' Gunthar said. "Come along, Millisant. Now where did she go?"

"We already returned her to the kennels, if you remember," Tohr said.

"Did we?" Gunthar asked in genuine surprise. "Ah, yes of course. How stupid of me. Well, good night again." He turned and strolled down the hall. Lord Tohr shook his head and slowly closed the door.

Liam eased the door shut, then glanced up and down the dark castle hall. From the opposite wall, a pale beam of light spread from beneath a door, while the other dozen or so doorways lining this hall showed no such light. Liam stood quietly in the darkness, listening, noting a muffled snore coming from somewhere down the hall, but otherwise this section of the castle was silent. The light under the opposite door wavered, as though a shadow had passed before it. Liam tensed and quietly stepped over to the door, pressing his ear against the wood, but he heard no sound.

He rapped lightly on the door, whispering, "Lord Gunthar?"

There was no answer, but again the light shifted. He heard a rustling noise, as of papers being shuffled.

He rapped again, louder. "Lord Gunthar?" he queried.

Still, no answer. Liam tensed and drew the dagger from his belt. He tried the handle of the door. It was unlocked.

He opened it and stepped quickly inside, closing the door behind him and pressing his back against it. Quickly, he scanned the room-Lord Gunthar's private study. A huge wooden desk dominated one corner of the room, while behind it stood a great window, its sashes thrown wide and its long filmy drapes billowing in the night breeze from the courtyard. The other walls were lined with shelves of books and scrolls, battle maps, and atlases of Krynn. A few small tables stood in comfortable nooks, bearing the prizes and honored awards of Gunthar's long and distinguished career. Atop the desk, a tall red candle burned in a bronze dish. The breeze from the open window caused the candle's flame to dance, sending drips of wax running down its length to add to the pool of hardened wax already nearly filling the dish. The floor before the desk was littered with loose papers obviously blown from the desktop by the wind.

With a sigh, Liam sheathed his dagger and began to clean up the papers from the floor. In his distraction, he failed to notice at first the nature of the documents in his hand, but as he straightened them into a proper stack on the desktop, he glanced at the contents of the top page. He read;

While an enemy still occupies the field, the Knight of the Crown may not exit the battle unless he has been relieved to find him safely home and well by his superior forces are needed when assaulting a fortified position. The standard rule is 3-to-l, although a 2-to-l advantage has been relieved by his superior, or is unable to locate another brother or sister Knight still occupying the field, the standard of his unit, or is otherwise incapacitated and unable to maintain the Knight's horses and arms, in general, one man-at-arms and one retainer shall be granted the Knight as servants.

Liam sank into the chair behind the desk and read the next page, finding it much the same as the first: confused, scrawling, in different hands, as though each break in the train of thought was written by a different person. Neither page was numbered or otherwise gave an indication as to their order. The text of the following page was interspersed with doodles of dragonsaddle designs and dragonlance mountings. The next sheet was covered with Gunthar's own name written again and again, each version in a bolder or more elaborate script than the last. One sheet was an unfinished letter to Gunthar's lady wife. "My dearest Belle," it began, and described events of only three days before, although she had passed away four years ago.