Lord Toede (4 page)

sternum, trying not to clatter his chains. Groag nodded again. “And would that be the key
to these locks?” he whispered between clenched teeth, motioning as gently as possible to
his wrist manacles. Groag nodded again. “Aha,” he said, and Groag saw his former master's
smile widen to the point it seemed to split his face. That had always been a bad sign in
the past, so Groag began to back away from the highmaster. Toede turned to the kender
girl, his smile softening slightly, his face becoming a placid plate of contentment. “I
must apologize, my dear kender. I have been under a great deal of stress recently and
sometimes lose my temper. I say things I do not mean, and, well, hurt the feelings of
others. I'm sorry. Very sorry. Perhaps I do merely need a change of lifestyle.” The
kender's smile lit up the room. Toede felt his stomach tighten in a spasm of pain at the
very sight. Instead, he locked his teeth together, fought his own rising gorge, and
continued. “Do you have any idea how much I truly enjoy berry picking? Why, I'm an old,
seasoned hand at it. And perhaps, if I could be so bold, might there be some poetry as
well?” “If you wish.” The kender smiled with genuine excitement. “Though I thought we
might go easy your first time out.” “Oh, of course,” said Toede. Groag shook his head,
wondering, not for the first time, if Toede were dead, and this was some strange and
bewildering spirit that had moved into his body. The young kender pulled the key from its
silver chain and began unlocking their fetters from the central bolt. Only when her back
was turned did Groag see Toede's face immediately cloud and small lightning bolts of anger
dance beneath his deeply creased brows. The only Toede present, realized Groag, was the
one that had always inhabited that body.

In which Our Protagonist and his faithful companion go berry picking and attempt to part
company with the kender way of life, in the process discovering the merits and perils of
bungee diving and white-water rafting. The kender's full name was Taywin Kroninsdau, at
least that's what Toede thought she said when she made introductions, making mention of
Kronin's name. Thankfully neither Kronin nor Talorin were immediately at hand to discern
his true identity, and Toede hoped no one caught the early part of his self-identifying
rant. Taywin seemed perfectly agreeable to calling him Mr. Underhill. Were the kender to
figure out who they really had tumbled upon, they might try to ransom him. And that old
scaleflint Gildentongue would probably rather leave him there to rot than part with one
sliver of steel.

As it was, Taywin Kroninsdau nodded brightly (she was the type of semi-sentient who did
everything brightly) when he introduced himself as Mr. Underhill and gave no sign that she
doubted his words. Their hut had a kender guard posted outside, a sleepy sort who seemed
lazy even by kender standards, who was to accompany them along with Taywin. Toede and
Groag had their chains lengthened so they could take shortened, hopping strides, with
about ten feet of chain connecting them. Taywin led the way, the large basket in hand. The
two chained hobgoblins were reduced to skipping

to keep up with her. The amused kender guard, armed with a particularly wicked-looking
spear, brought up the rear, alongside a shag-muzzled, honey-colored mastiff. Taywin
introduced the guard as Miles and made Toede shake hands politely. Introductions were not
made to the dog. The sought-after fruit hung from low, dense raspberry bushes that flanked
a small river, the probable outflow of the lake Toede had seen earlier (the presence of
which had forced him to stray into kender territory). The tumbling water was too small to
do the name “river” proper justice, and too large and energetic to be considered a mere
stream or creek. It was a whitened cascade of water about twenty feet across, thundering
over falls and cresting in hydraulics, the latter being great standing waves three feet
higher at the top than at the base. The spray from the water hung like a low fog, and the
omnipresent dampness encouraged the bushes to bear fruit throughout the warm months. Toede
was still seething inwardly with the indignation of his plight. It took a full ten minutes
for him to switch from planning imagined revenge on all kender to assessing the situation
for possible escape. The water looked too rough for a chain-bound swimmer, but could throw
off the scent of a party of dogs. The spray would dampen any clear sight or bow shot past
a hundred feet, and the thunder of the cascades meant that any survivors would have to
crawl for help rather than count on being heard crying out in pain. The girl seemed like
no real problem, and the guard was not particularly watchful. Toede realized he would have
to take him out quickly, before the dog reacted. After which, there was the matter of
Groag. Toede sighedthere always was a weak link in any plan. They had been spirited out of
the hut before making any real decisions as to escape, so he had to act and hope that
Groag would pick up on the momentum. More likely another large mountain would hit the sea
of Istar, Toede reflected bitterly as they skipped glumly alongside the water. The path
was only wide enough for a single creature, and in places was devilishly slick, even for
those not hampered by iron chains. Lord of Flotsam, Lord of Flotsam, Lord of Flotsam. He
repeated it now as a mantra, not a daydream. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds
about the time Taywin chose a likely place. She looked back, and Toede beamed at her,
trying his best to outshine the timid Groag. If I play this right, Toede thought, they
will never know what hit them. Taywin brought out a smile that gleamed in the sun in
return to Toede's, but Toede was unaware of it, his eyes riveted on the key around her
neck. 'This looks like a nice spot. They should be ripe enough. Mister Groag, Mister
Underhill, you can start here. I have some baskets....“ She fished several smaller baskets
from her hamperlike carryall. ”Of course,“ said Toede, smiling and shoving his arms
wrist-deep into the nearest berry-laden bush, wrapping his fingers around a likely
collection of berries in the process. The smile froze as the bush locked around him as if
it were a tooth-laden vise. Shouting, he pulled his scratched hands away. ”Oh, I'm so
sorry, Mr. Underhill,“ said Taywin, ”I thought you knew about the thorns. All raspberries
have thorns.“ ”Of course, thorns,“ said Toede through gritted teeth. ”I knew about them,
just forgot for a moment. It's been so long since I was in the field.“ He sucked on a
bloodstained knuckle. ”Of course,“ beamed Taywin Kroninsdau, ”there are gloves in the
large basket, with the smaller berry-baskets. Oh, and if Mr. Groag was any example, there
is a difference in hobgoblin and kender taste. We like the ones that aren't green.“
”Aren't green,“ gritted Toede, his jaw still firmly clenched. '11 make a note of that.”
The three of them worked the berry patch, Toede and Groag together, Taywin a little
farther down, the guard with the dog watching the pair of hobgoblins. They gathered
berries for what Toede thought was half an eternity but was most likely three-quarters of
an hour, until each hobgoblin had a half-full basket to Taywin's full one. “Well, you boys
had better catch up. How about if I read some poetry?” she said with a smile. “Kill me
now,” muttered Toede in a prayer to the dark gods. “Beg pardon?” She blinked at the
highmaster.

“I said 'silly cow.' I was talking to Groag. He made a face when you mentioned poetry.”
“Mr. Groag, I thought you liked my poetry,” said Taywin, pouting. “But I did, mean I do,
er, I didn't,” Groag's explanation tumbled to an eventual silence as the kender pulled a
small tome from her pocket. Toede turned back to his bushes, stifling a smile. Taywin's
voice was strong and clear, and did absolutely nothing to improve the quality of the
poetry. Fortunately for Taywin's feelings, it was normal for hobgoblins to hate all sorts
of verses above the level of obscene limericks equally, so they failed to appreciate good
poetry with the same enthusiasm as bad. Taywin intoned in her “serious” speaking voice,
dropping several octaves into a humanlike alto. “The knight amount swept on his horse
through bracken field and brawny heath and drew his sword of N'er-do-well to face each
danger in its teeth.” Groag and Toede were working close together now, a little apart from
the female kender. “I didn't make a face,” whispered Groag resentfully. “It's all part of
the plan, so don't worry,” Toede hissed back. “He vanquished dark and dreadful lords and
proved his will to fight and fight and won the hearts of all around with his fine and
lordly might.” “But I don't think it's so bad,” continued Groag. “You wouldn't know bad if
it infested your nostrils and bore young,” said Toede. “But she writes it herself. I think
she's improving.” “Will you forget about the poetry for a moment?” shouted Toede
breathily, trying to convey his rage without increasing his volume. Taywin halted, and the
guard looked over at them, spear at the ready. Toede clanked his chains as he waved at
them. “No problem, just a tuber in the way.” Taywin returned to her declamation. “And so
the people of the land did seek him out to cure their woes to battle dark and dreadful
lords and aid them in defeating foes.” Groag sighed again. “You think she means us when
she says 'dark and dreadful lords'?” Toede bit the inside of his mouth. “Let's
concentrate, for the moment, on escaping.” “Escaping?” said Groag, puzzled. “Yes,
escaping, as in 'finding a lifestyle involving less-heavy jewelry.'” He clanked at Groag.
“I have half a plan.” “And so the great and powerful knight did seek the great and holy
quest to find the faith and fairest flower and put himself to holy tests.” “Got it!”
exclaimed Toede. “Stuck yourself with a thorn again?” responded Groag. Toede glared at
Groag. “Got the other half of the plan. Be ready to move when I say move.” “Right, move
when you say move,” agreed Groag. “And in the meantime?” “Pick faster. I don't know how
much more poetry I can take.” Whether spurred on by Toede's promised deliverance or
Taywin's poetry, the hobgoblins filled their baskets in record time. The sun had risen
high, but the vale was still wet from mist when they finished. Then the four dined on
berries and a few goose sandwiches the female kender had packed. Groag volunteered the
information that he had helped grind the grain to make the bread. Toede felt his smile get
more brittle by the instant. “Well, we have to get you boys back,” said Taywin at length.
“There are other chores needing to be done.” “Pity, it seems so ... idyllic,” said Toede
with a wide smile. Groag looked at him with a panicked glance. The nicer the highmaster
seemed, the worse things usually got. “Tell me, Miss Taywin, I'm confused after all this.
Are we on the east side of the stream or the west?” “The western side,” said Taywin,
already gathering the baskets and the remains of the sandwiches, handing the gathered
collection to the guard. “Oh ... pity. Well, we should be getting back,” sighed Toede,
rising to his feet. Groag, without much choice owing to the chains, rose with him.

“Why is it a pity?” said Taywin, her cute brow wrinkling in small dimples. “Didn't Groag
tell you?” said Toede, miming shock at an apparent breach of common sense. “The best
berries are always on the eastern side. They take in the dying sun, and as such blush the
reddest. It's common hobgoblin lore....” Groag started to say, “I never heard of ...” but
Toede stepped in quickly, “Perhaps he was waiting to tell you later. I'm sorry if I
spoiled the surprise.” Toede gave a quarter turn toward his companion, his eyes flashing
the threat of holy terror. “Well, yes,” said Groag quickly, “a surprise. It was going to
be a surprise. ”Perhaps next time, then . . .“ said Toede. ”Besides, there's no way to
cross this creek.“ Toede took three half-steps away, then turned. Taywin was still
standing there, thinking. Watching a kender gather her thoughts made Toede think of an old
rain barrel about to explode from being overfilled. ”I've never heard of that business
about the eastern side,“ said the kender at length, ”but there's a log wide enough to walk
across a hundred yards or so down below. We can check it out.“ For the first time the
guard spoke, and Toede realized why he had kept silenthis voice cracked with adolescence.
”Milady, these are prisoners, and ...“ ”Oh, for Mishakal's sake, Miles,“ said Taywin. ”It
will only take a moment, and Daddy will be back this afternoon so there won't be that much
to have them do.“ The five of them (the dog padding along in last place) weaved their way
down along the banks to where an ancient maple had fallen across a narrows. It had been
used as a bridge before, and most of the bark had already peeled away, leaving a smooth,
straight pole between opposite banks of slippery rock. The kender ideal of ”crossable“ was
at great odds with the hobgoblin definition of the same, or anyone else's for that matter.
The water thundered about ten feet below in a torrent, squeezing between the two rocky
banks before passing over a low falls and into a series of rapids. ”Better berries, you
say?“ said Taywin, taking the lunch basket from the guard. The guard shook his head, ”I
don't think it's wise to take the prisoners across, milady.“ ”If I may be so bold,“ broke
in Toede, ”but the young man, sorry, young kender is correct. In our current condition I
don't think we could make it across such a narrow crossing.“ He held out his chained hands
and cocked his head at the young female. Taywin looked at the cuffs as if they had just
that moment entered her vision. Toede could swear steam was pouring out her ears as her
brain struggled to grasp the concept that two chained hobgoblins could not cross the
stream. She touched the iron key that hung around her neck as if it were a holy fetish.
Then she nodded. ”Right. I'll go across first and see if the berries are truly sweeter.
Then next time we'll bring more guards and do some major picking.“ With that she turned
and, with surefooted ease, started to cross the log, ignoring the fact that the crossing
lacked anything resembling a handrail and was slick with spray. Toede sighed as the young
kender guard stepped up next to him. ”She's real smart, she is,“ the kender said with a
grin. ”Very,“ agreed Toede, nodding. ”I notice how she never during the entire morning got
within an arm's length of me. Not like you are now.“ The kender guard was about to
respond, but the words (and several of his teeth) were shoved back down his throat by
Toede's iron-manacled forearm. The guard went down like a lump of suet, and Toede reached
out and grabbed his spear before it hit the ground. Then he kicked the guard for good
measure, watching the kender curl up in a small pain-filled ball. The mastiff growled and
was rewarded with a hard rap across the nose from the spear shaft. The hound retreated two
paces and growled again, crouching. Toede raised the spear to throw it, and the dog bolted
for the woods, yip-ping. The kender was still down, spitting blood. Groag looked at Toede
in shock. ”Why did you do that?“ ”Couldn't you see? He was about to read us a poem,"
snapped Toede, and started dragging his

compatriot toward the fallen log. “Come on.” “But we can't get very far in these,” whined
the lesser hobgoblin, rattling the manacles and chain between them. Toede turned and
glared at his companion. “But she has the key, and there are two of us. Now come on.”
Groag said nothing, but reluctantly followed the high-master to the edge of the thundering
stream. The passage had gotten very slick indeed at the center of the beam, and Tay win
had reached out her arms to both sides to balance herself. Now she looked back for a
moment and spotted Toede starting to inch along the beam, shuffling sideways along the
span. That was her first clue that something had gone wrong. The second clue was the fact
that he held the guard's spear, about a third of the way down from its flint-tipped head,
and was using it as a balancing pole. The third clue was that Toede was smiling. It was a
frightening, ear-to-ear smile. “What's wrong?” Taywin shouted to make herself heard over
the rushing water. “You shouldn't come out here!” Toede shouted back, “The guard just took
ill! Bad berries! You'd better come back.” Indeed, beyond Toede on the near bank, the
guard was clutching his mouth and stomach in obvious pain. Groag stood about three paces
behind Toede, feeding out the chain and looking worried. Toede saw a look of concern cross
Taywin's face, and she tottered, just slightly, on the slippery log. She bellowed, “Hang
on, I have to turn around! Ifs worse than it looks.” She made a quarter-turn so she faced
downstream, the opposite direction as Toede. “Here, take my hand,” said Toede, reaching
out with one chained limb. The other, carrying the spear tightly like a dagger, was tucked
behind him. Groag followed him out onto the beam a few careful paces. “No, you're rocking
the log,” shouted Taywin. “Look...” The next word was hypothetically “out,” but Taywin
merely screamed as she pitched backward, her large basket flying in the opposite direction
and quickly disappearing in the rapids. Toede instinctively leaped for the key. However,
his hands were chained together, with a second chain leading to those connecting his feet,
which were in turn chained to a similar arrangement on Groag, who did not leap forward, at
least not voluntarily. The result was that the chains pulled taut, pulling Toede's arms
and legs backward suddenly, and pitching him headfirst after the falling kender. He
dropped the spear, but did manage to catch the kender with a firm grip, snaring the top of
her blouse between clenched teeth. This would normally have been an extremely embarrassing
situation for both of them, but at the moment such proprieties were not the top priority.
Groag, as Toede had oft pointed out, was not the brightest of hobgoblins, but as he saw
the chain connecting him to the falling hobgoblin play out, he immediately realized what
would happen to him. With a quickness gained by his several-months' tenure as a servant,
he dropped to the log and held on for dear life. Nonetheless, Toede and Taywin splashed
into the torrent and were immediately dragged back under the log and downstream. Toede
still had his arms and legs pulled tight behind him, but Taywin was already grabbing him
and pulling herself up the chain to shore. As soon as she had a firm grip on the chains,
the submerged hobgoblin released his jaw-grip on her shirt-front. Slowly and painfully,
Taywin clambered back up the sheer rock to where Groag stood. The hobgoblin on shore
shouted encouragement and put out his foot for her to grab on to as she pulled herself up
the final few feet. Taywin swept back her matted hair and spat water, trying to force air
back into her lungs. “I owe you two my life,” she said between pants. Groag replied, “It
was nothing, I... Oh! Toede!” and with that started hauling on the chain that had
disappeared into the swirling white water and (presumably) was still attached to his
former master. “Toede?” said Taywin, shaking her waterlogged head. “As in Highmaster ...”
“Gotcha, you rat!” shouted the kender guard, as he smacked the back of Groag's head with a
good- sized, more than adequately heavy rock. The guard's mouth was coated with drying
blood, and his