“Riki, be grateful he’s alive.” Dhamon looked down the corridor, seeing the light from the sivak’s lantern fading. He picked up the remaining lantern and gestured for her to go first. “Be grateful you still have a husband for your baby.”
She seethed. “It’s my fault. I sent him after you and Mal. It’s my fault I made him fall in love with me, marry me.” She choked back a sob. “The baby’s not his, you know. Not that you or I will ever tell him the truth.”
Dhamon’s eyes were saucers.
“It’s yours, you fool. You left me pregnant and alone in Blöten, Dhamon Grimwulf.”
She slid by him and hurried down the corridor.
Dhamon stood stunned for several minutes before he slowly picked his way after her.
* * * * *
When Varek finally came to, Dhamon had to explain all over again about Maldred being an ogre mage. The young man took the news better than Riki had, perhaps because he was preoccupied with dealing with his leg.
“You’ll be able to walk on your own again,” Maldred said reassuringly. Fishing about in the canvas sack they’d brought back, he pulled out a mahogany peg-leg inlaid with bronze and silver. “There’s two more in the bag. You can take your pick.”
Varek groaned and lay back on Rikali’s lap.
The half-elf watched Maldred and the sivak gather up the treasure and place it beneath the hole. Dhamon hovered near them, though most of the time he watched Riki. She stared at him impassively and stroked Varek’s face.
“You climb up first, Dhamon,” Maldred suggested, “We’ll tie some of these bundles to the rope and you can pull them up. We’ll take these.” The ogre mage gestured at the choicest assortment.
“Between us, we can manage this. I’ll follow you. Ragh can bring Varek and—”
“Seal up the hole,” Dhamon said numbly.
“Yes, and we come back for the rest later. With a wagon.”
“My book?”
“It’s here.” Maldred pointed to a satchel.
“Not so fast,” Riki said, easing Varek’s head onto the floor. “I’m going first. Ragh’ll bring Varek, and then we’ll pull the treasure up. I’m not taking the chance you’ll leave us here.”
Dhamon didn’t argue. Instead, he picked her up and held her so she could grab the rope. A moment later she was out of view, tugging the rope after her and tying Dhamon’s sail to it. It was several minutes before it dropped back down.
“She wanted us to stew a bit,” Maldred said.
Dhamon nodded to the sivak. Varek had his arms locked around Ragh’s neck as the creature started up.
“Hope they’re not too heavy,” Maldred mused. “I wouldn’t want to be trapped down here.”
The bags of loot came next, save for the satchel containing Abraim’s magical book, which Dhamon strapped to his back.
“You first, my friend,” Maldred said.
Dhamon complied.
Yet when the ogre mage emerged from the hole a few minutes later, he was greeted by an unexpected sight.
Three dozen Legion of Steel Knights stood at attention. Another half-dozen had Dhamon and the sivak in custody, with thick ropes wrapped around them. A commander held Rikali’s wrists with one hand. The other hand held a dagger at her throat.
“Should we just kill the draconian?” one of the Knights called. The commander shook his head. “Commander Lawlor’s in Wheatland. He’ll want to question the creature first. It might have some valuable information about the dragons around here.” After a moment, he added, “Tie the ogre up, too. Lawlor can decide what to do with it.”
A dozen Knights came forward to handle this task.
“Put the lot of them on that wagon,” the commander growled.
There were two wagons. The other held the loot that Dhamon and the others had gathered.
“A fine treasure,” the Knight commander beamed.
“I’ll wager there’s a lot more treasure down in that hole.” The voice was smooth and feminine and came from a slim Ergothian, who stepped out from behind a line of Knights.
“Satin,” Dhamon said.
The dark-skinned woman was still wearing Dhamon’s tunic, and Wyrmsbane, his magical long sword, was scabbarded on her hip. She smiled slyly at him.
Three more familiar forms joined her: the other thieves who had stolen from them and nearly killed them in Blöde.
“Should be more than enough treasure to feed and house an army of your Knights, Commander,” said Satin. “For a long while.”
The commander nodded. “My thanks, lady, for telling us where to find these thieves. The reward for Dhamon Grimwulf is substantial.”
Satin chuckled. “I’ll just take this if you’ve no objection,” she said, fishing about in a small bag on the wagon and tugging free a handful of baubles, including the necklace made of black pearls and volcanic glass beads. “More than enough.” She waved to the other women. “C’mon girls. We can settle down with this.”
Rikali was unceremoniously shoved onto the wagon bench, a Knight pressing a dagger to her side to make sure Dhamon and Maldred, who were relegated to the back of the wagon, caused no trouble. Varek was stretched out between the two men.
The commander waved a sheet of parchment. It was a wanted poster, like the ones tacked on the wall in Graelor’s End.
“It’s about time someone caught you,” he said. “Well past time you paid for your crimes.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ropes and Good-byes
Dhamon had the largest cell to himself. Despite the thickness of the iron bars, the newness of lock, despite a guard with a drawn sword stationed only a few feet away in the hall, the Legion of Steel Knights had seen the need to put him in heavy chains. They took no chances. His cell was clean and tidy, not what he’d expect of a prison. There was a flask of water and a bowl filled with spiced oatmeal on the floor, and there were heavy blankets on a cot that had been neatly made, but there was a thin film of dust on the top blanket and on practically everything else. Dhamon decided the jail wasn’t used often. Perhaps Wheatland was a law-abiding place. There were four other cells in the jail, three of these occupied by his companions. Maldred, in chains modified to fit his larger wrists and ankles, lay in a heap on the floor with what had once passed for a cot crushed beneath him. He was sound asleep, drugged by some vile concoction the Knights forced down his throat before carrying him into his cell. The sivak in the cell across from Maldred’s was likewise drugged, though unchained, only because the blacksmith had not yet finished making large enough manacles. They would be coming soon, Dhamon had heard the guard say.
“Dhamon, what’re they gonna do to us?”
He made no reply.
“Dhamon, I’m talkin’ to you!” Rikali was in the cell directly opposite Dhamon’s. The half-elf sat on the cot, leg tucked up under her awkwardly because of her ankle chains—they’d not chained her wrists-—with Varek’s head cradled in her lap. She was stroking his sweat-slicked brow and fussing over him.
Varek’s stump had been freshly bandaged by the Knights. Dhamon had cauterized the wound well, but he knew Varek was feverish and still in the throes of shock from having half his leg removed.
“Keep him warm, Riki,” Dhamon told her. “Use the blanket under you. Can you reach into Ragh’s cell and get that one, too?”
The half-elf eased herself out from under her young husband and wrapped first one blanket around him, then the other. When she was finished, she grabbed the bars and glared at Dhamon.
“What’re they gonna do to us?” she repeated.
“Hang us probably,” came Dhamon’s cold reply. He turned away from her and went to the back of his small cell, chains clanking and stirring the dirt on the floor. There was a window high on the wall, and Dhamon managed to pull himself up by the bars to look out. The window was too small to fit through. He had already considered that, but it afforded him a view. There was a massive oak with thick, wide limbs. A platform was being erected beneath the biggest branch.