"So why bring them to me?" asked Lord Verminaard irritably. "Throw them into the mines with the rest of the rabble."

Toede stammered. "I thought the human m-m-might b-be a s-spy…"

The Dragon Highlord studied the human intently. He was tall, about fifty human years old. His hair was white and his clean-shaven face brown and weathered, streaked with lines of age. He was dressed like a beggar, which is probably what he was, Verminaard thought in disgust. There was certainly nothing unusual about him, except for his eyes which were bright and young. His hands, too, were those of a man in his prime. Probably elven blood…

"The man is feeble-minded," Verminaard said finally. "Look at him-gaping like a landed fish."

"I b-b-believe he's, uh, deaf and dumb, my lord," Toede said, sweating.

Verminaard wrinkled his nose. Not even the dragonhelm could keep away the foul odor of perspiring hobgoblin.

"So you have captured a gully dwarf and a spy who can neither hear nor speak," Verminaard said caustically. "Well done, Toede. Perhaps now you can go out and pick me a bouquet of flowers."

"If that is your lordship's pleasure," Toede replied solemnly, bowing.

Verminaard began to laugh beneath his helm, amused in spite of himself. Toede was such a entertaining little creature-a pity he couldn't be taught to bathe. Verminaard waved his hand. "Remove them-and yourself."

"What shall I do with the prisoners, my lord?"

"Have the gully dwarf feed Ember tonight. And take your spy to the mines. Keep a watch on him though-he looks deadly!" The Dragon Highlord laughed.

Pyros ground his teeth and cursed Verminaard for a fool.

Toede bowed again. "Come on, you," he snarled, yanking on the manacles, and the man stumbled after him. "You, too!" He prodded Sestun with his foot. It was useless. The gully dwarf, hearing he was to feed the dragon, had fainted. A draconian was called to remove him.

Verminaard left his throne and walked over to his desk. He gathered up his maps in a great roll. "Send the wyvern with dispatches," he ordered Pyros. "We fly tomorrow morning to destroy Qualinesti. Be ready when I call."

When the bronze and golden doors had closed behind the Dragon Highlord, Pyros, "still in human form, rose from the desk and began to pace feverishly back and forth across the room. There came a scratching at the door.

"Lord Verminaard has gone to his chambers!" Pyros called out, irritated at the interruption.

The door opened a crack.

"It is you I wish to see, royal one," whispered a draconian.

"Enter," Pyros said. "But be swift."

"The traitor has been successful, royal one," the draconian said softly. "He was able to slip away only for a moment, lest they suspect. But he has brought the cleric-"

"To the Abyss with the cleric!" Pyros snarled. "This news is of interest only to Verminaard. Take it to him. No, wait." The dragon paused.

"As you instructed, I came to you first," the draconian said apologetically, preparing to make a hasty departure.

"Don't go," the dragon ordered, raising a hand. "This news is of value to me after all. Not the cleric. There is much more at stake… I must meet with our treacherous friend. Bring him to me tonight, in my lair. Do not inform Lord Verminaard-not yet. He might meddle." Pryos was thinking rapidly now, his plans coming together. "Verminaard has Qualinesti to keep him occupied."

As the draconian bowed and left the throne room, Pyros began pacing once again, back and forth, back and forth, rubbing his hands together, smiling.

12

The parable of the gem. Traitor revealed. Tas’s dilemma

"top that, you bold man!" Caramon simpered, slapping Eben's hand as the fighter slyly slid his hand up Caramon's skirt.

The women in the room laughed so heartily at the antics of the two warriors that Tanis glanced nervously at the cell door, afraid of arousing the suspicion of the guards.

Maritta saw his worried gaze. "Don't worry about the guards!" she said with a shrug. "There are only two down here on this level and they're drunk half the time, especially now that the army's moved out." She looked up from her sewing at the women and shook her head. "It does my heart good to hear them laugh, poor things," she said softly. "They've had little enough to laugh about these past days."

Thirty-four women were crowded into one cell-Maritta said there were sixty women living in another nearby-under conditions so shocking that even the hardened campaigners were appalled. Rude straw mats covered the floor. The women had no possessions beyond a few clothes. They were allowed outdoors for a brief exercise period each morning. The rest of the time they were forced to sew draconian uniforms. Though they had been imprisoned only a few weeks, their faces were pale and wan, their bodies thin and gaunt from the lack of nourishing food.

Tanis relaxed. Though he had known Maritta only a few hours, he already relied on her judgment. She was the one who had calmed the terrified women when the companions burst into their cell. She was the one who listened to their plan and agreed that it had possibilities.

"Our menfolk will go along with you," she told Tanis. "It's the Highseekers who'll give you trouble."

"The Council of Highseekers?" Tanis asked in astonishment. "They're here? Prisoners?"

Maritta nodded, frowning. "That was their payment for believing in that black cleric. But they won't want to leave, and why should they? They're not forced to work in the mines- the Dragon Highlord sees to that! But we're with you." She glanced around at the others, who nodded firmly. "On one condition-that you'll not put the children in danger."

"I can't guarantee that," Tanis said. "I don't mean to sound harsh, but we may have to fight a dragon to reach them and-"

"Fight a dragon? Flamestrike?" Maritta looked at him in amazement. "Pah! There's no need to fight the pitiful critter. In fact, were you to hurt her, you'd have half the children ready to tear you apart, they're that fond of her."

"Of a dragon?" Goldmoon asked. "What's she done, cast a spell on them?"

"No. I doubt Flamestrike could cast a spell on anything anymore." Maritta smiled sadly. "The poor critter's more than half-mad. Her own children were killed in some great war or other and now she's got it in her head that our children are her children. I don't know where his lordship dug her up, but it was a sorry thing to do and I hope he pays for it someday!" She snapped a thread viciously.

"Twon't be difficult to free the children," she added, seeing Tanis's worried look. "Flamestrike always sleeps late of a morning. We feed the children their breakfast, take them out for their exercise, and she never stirs. She'll never know they're gone till she wakes, poor thing."

The women, filled with hope for the first time, began modifying old clothes to fit the men. Things went smoothly until it came time to fit them.

"Shave!" Sturm roared in such fury that the women scurried away from the knight in alarm. Sturm had taken a dim view of the disguise idea, anyway, but had agreed to go along with it. It seemed the best way to cross the wide-open courtyard between the fortress and the mines. But, he announced, he would rather die a hundred deaths at the hands of the Dragon Highlord than shave his moustaches. He only calmed down when Tanis suggested covering his face with a scarf.

Just when that was settled, another crisis arose. Riverwind stated flatly that he would not dress up as a woman and no amount of arguing could convince him otherwise. Goldmoon finally took Tanis aside to explain that, in their tribe, any warrior who committed a cowardly act in battle was forced to wear women's clothes until he redeemed himself. Tanis was baffled by this one. But Maritta had wondered how they would manage to outfit the tall man anyway.