Dragonlance 15 - Dragons Of A Fallen Sun (47 page)

rarely evinced any type of emotion, Groul appeared quite pleased

with himself this night. His lizard eyes glittered with excitement,

his fangs were prominent in a wide grin. The tip of his flickered

in his mouth.

Beryl shifted and rolled her huge body, wallowing deeper in

the muck to increase her comfort, gathering her vines around her

like a writhing blanket.

"News from Qualinost?" Beryl asked casually. She did not

want to seem too eager.

"Yes, Exalted One," said Groul, moving forward to stand near

one of the gigantic claws of her front foot. "Most interesting news

involving the Queen Mother, Laurana."

"Indeed? Is that fool knight Medan still enamored of her?"

"Of course." Groul dismissed this as old news. "According to

our spy, he shields and protects her. But that is not such a bad

thing, Mistress. The Queen Mother believes herself to be invulner-

able and thus we are able to discover what the elves are plotting."

"True," Beryl agreed. "So long as Medan remembers where

his true loyalities lie, I permit his little flirtation. He has served

me well thus far and he is easily removed. What else? There is

something else, I believe. . ."

Beryl rested her head on the ground, to put herself level with

the draconian, gazed intently at him. His excitement was catch-

ing. She could feel it quiver through her. Her tail twitched, her

claws dug deep into the oozing mud.

Groul drew closer still. "I reported to you several days ago

that the human mage, Palin Majere, was hiding out in the Queen

Mother's house. We wondered at the reason for this visit. You

suspected he was there searching for magical artifacts."

"Yes," Beryl said. "Go on."

"I am pleased to report, Exalted One, that he found one."

"Indeed?" Beryl's eyes gleamed, casting an eerie green light

over the draconian. "And what is the artifact he found? What

does it do?"

" According to our elven spy, the artifact may have something

to do with traveling through time. The artifact is in the possession

of a kender, who claims that he came from another time, a time

prior to the Chaos War."

Beryl snorted, filling her lair with noxious fumes. The dra-

conian choked and coughed.

"Those vermin will say anything. If this is all-"

"No, no, Exalted One," Groul hastened to add when he could

speak. "The elven spy reports that Palin Majere was tremen-

dously excited over this find. So excited that he has made

arrangements to leave Qualinost with the artifact immediately, in

order to study it."

"Is that so?" Beryl relaxed, settled herself more comfortably.

"He was excited by it. The artifact must be powerful, then. He

has a nose for these things, as I said to the Gray Robes when

they would have slain him. 'Let him go,' I told them. 'He will

lead us to magic as a pig to truffles.' How may we acquire

this?"

"The day after this day, Exalted One, the mage and the kender

will depart Qualinesti. They will be met by a griffon who will fly

them from there to Solace. That would be the best time to capture

them."

"Return to Qualinost. Inform Medan--"

"Pardon me, Exalted One. I am not permitted into the

marshal's presence. He finds me and my kind distasteful."

"He is becoming more like an elf every day," Beryl growled.

"Some morning he will wake with pointed ears."

"I can send my spy to report to him. That is the way I usually

operate. Thus my spy keeps me informed of what is going on in

Medan's household as well."

"Very well. Here are my orders. Have your spy tell Marshal

Medan that I want this mage captured and delivered alive. He is

to be brought to me, mind you. Not those worthless Gray Robes."

"Yes, Exalted One." Groul started to leave, then turned back.

"Do you trust the marshal with a matter of this importance?"

"Certainly not" Beryl said disdainfully. "But I will make my

own arrangements. Now go!"

Marshal Medan was taking his breakfast in his garden, where

he liked to watch the sun rise. He had placed his table and chair

on a rock ledge beside a pond so covered with water lilies that he

could barely see the water. A nearby snowfall bush filled the air

with tiny white blossoms. Having finished his meaL he read the

morning dispatches, which had just arrived, and wrote out his

orders for the day. Every so often he paused in his work to toss

bread crumbs to the fish who were so accustomed to his routine

that every morning at this time they came to the surface in antic-

ipation of his arrival.

"Sir." Medan's aide approached, irritably brushing the falling

blossoms from his black tunic. "An elf to see you, sir. From the

household of the Queen Mother."

"Our traitor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Bring him to me at once."

The aide sneezed, gave a sullen response and departed.

Medan drew his knife from the sheath he wore on a belt

around his waist placed the knife on the table, and sipped at his

wine. He would not ordinarily have taken such precautions.

There had been one assassination attempt against him long ago,

when he had first arrived to take charge of Qualinesti. Nothing

had come of it. The perpetrators had been caught and hanged,

drawn and quartered; the pieces of their bodies fed to the car-

rion birds.

Recently, however, the rebel groups were becoming bolder,

more desperate. He was concerned about one in particular, a

female warrior whose personal beauty, courage in battle and

daring exploits were making her a heroine to the subjugated

elves. They called her "Lioness," for her mane of shining hair. She

and her band of rebels attacked supply trains, harried patrols,

ambushed messengers and generally made Medan's formerly

quiet and peaceful life among the Qualinesti elves increasingly

difficult.

Someone was feeding the rebels information on troop

movements, the timing of patrols, the locations of baggage

trains. Medan had clamped down tightly on security, remov-

ing all elves (except his gardener) from his staff and urging

Prefect Palthainon and the other elven officials who were

known to collaborate with the knights to watch what they said

and where they said it. But security was difficult in a land

where a squirrel sitting eating nuts on your windowsill might

be taking a look at your maps, noting down the disposition of

your forces.

Medan's aide returned, still sneezing, with the elf following

along behind, bearing a slip of a branch in his hand.

Medan dismissed his aide with a recommendation that he

drink some catnip tea to help his cold. The Marshal sipped his

morning wine slowly, enjoying it. He loved the flavor of elven

wine, could taste the flowers and the honey from which it was

made.

"Marshal Medan, my mistress sends this lilac cutting to you

for your garden. She says that your gardener will know how to

plant it."

"Put it here," said Medan, indicating the table. He did not

look at the elf, but continued to toss crumbs to the fish. If that is

all, you have leave to go."

The elf coUghed, cleared his throat.

"Something more?" Medan asked casually.

The elf cast a furtive glance all around the garden.

Speak. We are alone," Medan said.

Sir, I have been ordered to relay information to you. I told

you previously that the mage, Palin Majere, was visiting my

mistress."

Medan nodded. "Yes, you were assigned to keep watch on

him and report to me what he does. I must assume from the fact

that you are here that he has done something."

"Palin Majere has recently come into possession of an

extremely valuable artifact, a magical artifact from the Fourth

Age. He is going to transport that artifact out of Qualinost. His

plan is to take it to Solace."

" And you reported the discovery of this artifact to Groul who

reported it to the dragon," said Medan with an inward sigh. More

trouble. "And, of course, Beryl wants it."

"Majere will be traveling by griffon. He is to meet the griffin

tomorrow morning at dawn in a clearing located about twenty

miles north of Qualinost. He travels in company with a kender

and a Solarnnic Knight-"

"A Solarnnic Knight?" Medan was amazed, more interested in

the knight than in the magic-user. "How did a Solarnnic Knight

manage to enter Qualinesti without being discovered?"

"He disguised himself as one of your knights, my lord. He

pretended that the kender was his prisoner, that he had stolen a

magical artifact and that he was taking the prisoner to the Gray

Robes. Word reached Majere of the artifact and he waylaid the

knight and the kender, as the Knight had planned, and brought

them to the home of the queen mother."

"Intelligent, courageous, resourceful." Medan threw crumbs

to the fish. "1 look forward to meeting this paragon."

"Yes, my lord. As I said, the Knight will be with Majere in

the forest, along with the kender. I can provide you with a

map-"

"I am certain you can," said Medan. He made a dismissive

gesture. "Give the details to my aide. And remove your treacher-

ous carcass from my garden. You poison the air."

"Excuse me, sir," the elf said boldly. "But there is the matter

of payment. According to Groul, the dragon was extremely

pleased with the information. That makes it worth a consider-

able amount. More than usual. Shall we say, double what I usu-

ally receive?"

Medan cast the elf a contemptuous glance, then reached for

quill and paper.

"Give this to my aide. He will see that you are paid." Medan

wrote slowly and deliberately, taking his time. He hated this busi-

ness, considered the use of spies sordid and demeaning. "What

are you doing with all this money we have paid you to betray

your mistress, Elf?" He would not dignify the wretch with a

name. "Do you plan to enter the Senate? Perhaps take over from

Prefect Palthainon, that other monument to treachery."

The elf hovered near, his eyes on the paper and the figures the

Marshal was writing, his hand waiting to pluck it away. "It is easy

for you to talk, Human," the elf said bitterly. "You were not born

a servant as I was, given no chance to better myself. 'You should

be honored with your lot in life,' they tell me. 'After all, your

father was a servant to the House Royal. Your grandfather was a

servant in that household as was his grandfather before him.

House Servitor is the house to which you are born. If you try to

leave or raise yourself, you will bring about the downfall of elven

society!' Hah!

"Let my brother demean himself. Let him bow and scrape and

grovel to the mistress. Let him fetch and carry for her. Let him

wait to die with her on the day the dragon attacks and destroys

them all. I mean to do something better with my life. As soon as

I have saved money enough, I will leave this place and make my

own way in the world."

Medan signed the note, dripped melted wax beneath his sig-

nature, and pressed his seal ring into the wax. "Here, take this. I

am pleased to be able to contribute to your departure."

The elf snatched the note, read the amount, smiled and,

bowing, departed in haste.

Medan tossed the remainder of the bread into the pond and

rose to his feet. His enjoyment of the day had been ruined by that

contemptible creature, who, out of greed, was now informing on

the woman he served, a woman who trusted him.

At least, Medan thought, I will capture this Palin Majere out-

side of Qualinost. There will be no need to bring Laurana into it.

Had I been forced to apprehend Majere in the queen mother's

house, I would have had to arrest the queen mother for harboring

a fugitive.

He could imagine the uproar over such an arrest. The queen

mother was immensely popular; her people having apparently

forgiven her for marrying a half-human and for having a brother

who was in exile, termed a "dark elf," one who is cast from the

light. The Senate would be in a clamor. The population, already

in an excited state, would be incensed. There was even the remote

possibility that news of his mother's arrest would cause her

worthless son to grow a backbone.

Much better this way. Medan had been waiting for just such

an opportunity. He would turn Majere and his artifact over to

Beryl and be done with it.

The marshal left the garden to put his lilac slip into water, so

that it would not dry out.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

GILTHAS AND THE LIONESS

Gilthas, Laurana's "worthless son," was at that moment

resting his quite adequate backbone against a chair in an

underground room of a tavern owned and run by gully

dwarves. The tavern was called the Gulp and Belch.:.--this being,

as near as the gully dwarves could ascertain, the only thing

humans did in a tavern.

The Gulp and Belch was located in a small habitation of gully