'Toede has great wizard's skills! He transforms himself at will into a fiend from the pits, with great bloody spurs on his elbows and knees. He chewed through those men like… like…" A brief silence fell on the room as all (even Groag) imagined the battle-frenzied Toede-fiend tossing men around like rag dolls. Then Toede looked up from his reverie, adding, "Tell me that at least you've sealed the city."

"Well, I have not received…" began the sergeant.

"Dark Lady in a festhall!" bellowed Toede. "Do you want to die in your sleep tonight? No, sorry, it's not your fault Gildentongue doesn't trust anyone. Auraks are typically paranoid, but this is not a time for caution. Is Lord Gildentongue living at my… er… the large manor house?"

"Aye, with the Holy Hopsloth." The sergeant touched his own disk at this point.

"Good, I'll wait for him there. I want you to alert the full complement. Get as many men as you can to the main gates and posted on the perimeter wall. Toede may have an army out there, for all we know. Triple the guard on the gates to the Rock and the docks. Send a runner to the Jetties to fetch Lord Gildentongue. Am I clear?"

The sergeant shook his head. "By what authority do you…"

Toede stomped his foot. "By Lord Gildentongue's authority! If my actions are inappropriate, I will take full responsibility."

Toede saw by the way the human's face relaxed that he had struck the correct chord. Denying personal responsibility was almost as attractive to humans as it was to hobgoblins.

The sergeant nodded, motioning to two of the guards. "Escort these two to the Manor." He pointed at the guard who spoke with the northern accent. "You go down to the inn called the Jetties," he barked. "Tell Lord Gildentongue… what?" He turned to Toede.

"Tell him"-and Toede could not help but suppress a smile at this-"tell him an old friend wishes to discuss an old enemy. At his home and at a time of his convenience."

The sergeant nodded, and the guard vaporized into the darkness.

Toede chuckled inwardly. That should bring the damned lizard running, he thought.

Chapter 8

In which Our Protagonist returns home, discovers the nature of what has been sleeping in his bed, and lays his trap. As a bonus to the devoted reader, we are treated to a glimpse inside Gildentongue's head before his final battle.

"What do you know about auraks?" said Toede to Groag, once they had been left alone in the manor's front hall.

Toede had instructed the two guards to stand watch outside the front door until Gildentongue's return. The windows were shuttered, and light was entirely lacking. This did not bother the hobgoblins, as the red shadows made everything visible to their sensitive eyes. The more visually limited humans were uncomfortable, however, expecting some monster to leap out at any moment. The guards gladly retreated to their newly assigned posts.

Maison Toede was a lumpish brute of a building. With its imposing walls, it was more apt to be mistaken for a stone giant's mausoleum than a viable structure for the living.

The central building was two stories high, with stubby wings to the right and left of the main hall. To the right was the treasury (once inside, Toede noted that Gilden-tongue at least had the good sense to put a new lock on the heavy brass door). To the left were the kitchen and the servants' quarters. Opposite the entrance were the great

iron-shod doors that led to the audience room. On either side of the doors, a pair of staircases wound up to a balcony and an upper hallway. Private rooms were located on the upper levels, and in its heyday the building had been alive with hobgoblin feasts, revels and mayhem.

Such was not the case in the warm, fetid darkness of the present administration. Gildentongue had definitely let the place go downhill.

Groag looked around, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the dark, thinking about Toede's question. "I know auraks are ugly creatures," he said at last.

"Aye," said Toede. "Heads of dragons, bodies of men, souls of fiends. Short tails and long claws. Skin the color of ancient coins. And Gildentongue's among the ugliest of the lot. See if you can find some torches in this tomb."

Toede took the two satchels (finally) from Groag and scaled the right-hand stairs two at a time, talking as he did so. "We'd best hurry. I think Gildentongue will be running back as soon as he gets the message."

"He can't fly?" asked Groag, shouting up from the first floor. The acoustics were perfect in the hall, such that Groag's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. It was a very good building for long pronouncements and speeches, which was one reason Toede had requisitioned it in the first place.

"Thank the Dark Lady, no," replied Toede. "Auraks can run pretty fast and pop around a bit, vanish from one place and appear in another. They can render themselves invisible to human sight and change their shape. They can throw fireballs off from their hands, or at least something that looks like fireballs. They spit acid, use magic, and are unaffected by most spells. And they can control minds, but you probably figured that out from his effect on that parade-goer this afternoon. So don't look him in the eyes, okay?"

As he spoke, Toede reached the top of the landing directly above the iron doors to his old audience room. He unslung and opened both packs, holding his breath as the\ black dust wafted up from one. Most of the paper containers of the dust had been broken open, but Toede made sure the rest were ruptured as well.

Then he turned to the other satchel, the one that clinked solidly with glass. It was filled with a rack of light wood, and each slot in the rack was filled with a small glass bottle. Toede set the rack upright in its satchel, and unstop-pered about half the vials. A rich, musky odor surrounded him as he did so.

"I heard the highlords make draconians out of good dragon eggs," shouted Groag, accompanied by the back-beat of cabinets being opened and closed.

"Kender lies and propaganda," replied Toede. "Discount that. It's not as if we don't have enough to be concerned about."

"Fireballs, acid, magic, mind control. Right," shouted Groag. "Anything else I should worry about?"

"Don't stand too close to him when he dies. They really get mad when they're killed."

"Good joke," Groag replied. "Hey, I found some torches and a lit brazier in the kitchen."

"Not joking," said Toede quietly, finishing his preparations. Louder, he shouted, "Put the torches in the main hall and the audience room. I want him to know where I am, so he doesn't go wandering about." There was silence down below. "Groag?"

"I think you better come down here," said Groag in a voice cracking with fear.

Toede descended the staircase, though not before loading the crossbow with one of the special bolts he kept, floating in an ichorous, oily substance, in the separate box. He was careful enough to don gloves before loading the weapon. But downstairs, instead of a battle, he found Groag, torch in hand, standing in front of the open iron doors leading to the main audience chamber.

"What's so bloody…" Toede walked up and stopped next to him.

Bloody was the correct term. The entire room had become a charnel house, filled with torn and dismembered bodies. Some had been reduced to a few gnawed bones, others were bags of dripping flesh, and there were a few semi-whole corpses, missing only some minor portion of anatomy. The stench was enough to send anyone but a hobgoblin reeling.

"Can't say I care for his decorator," muttered Toede.

"It sure explains why the guards are afraid of him," said Groag quietly.

"And why there seem to be few servants in evidence," added Toede. "Living ones at least. Let's see what other changes Gildentongue's made."