“I am not unaware of Kaanyr Vhok’s growing strength,” Horgar muttered, tugging at his beard. “Speak plainly. What does your lord want?”
No subtlety at all, Aliisza lamented. Kaanyr might as well have sent a dim-witted ogre to deliver this message.
“Kaanyr Vhok wants to know if you intend to march on Menzoberranzan. If you do, he wishes to join you. As I have just said, I believe that the Scoured Legion could be a valuable ally.”
“We might not want you for an ally, if we were thinking of any such thing,”
Horgar said. “We might think we have sufficient strength to get what we want without splitting the prize.”
“You might think that,” Aliisza conceded. “If you were correct, the dark elves of Menzoberranzan would be well-advised to seek allies against you. I wonder to whom they could turn for help?”
“I would crush Kaanyr Vhok if he did anything so foolish,” Horgar growled. “Go back to your demonspawned master and tell him—”
“A moment, Prince Horgar,” Nimor said, stepping between the duergar and the alu-fiend. “Let us not be hasty. We should give Lady Aliisza’s message careful thought before we consider our reply.”
Horgar snarled, “You do not tell me how to conduct my kingdom’s affairs, drow!”
“Of course not, my lord prince, but I would very much like to confer with you at greater length on this question.” Nimor turned back to Aliisza and said, “I presume you would be willing to remain as a guest of the crown prince while we discuss your master’s offer?”
Aliisza merely smiled. She let her eyes linger on the slim figure of the dark elf. Given an opportunity, she felt sure that she could convince him to see the virtues of her proposal, though she also sensed that there was more to this Nimor than met the eye. Unfortunately, Horgar and his Marshal Firehand were less likely to succumb to her special talents. She could wait a day or two and see if Nimor succeeded in advancing her arguments for her.
The duergar prince measured her, mulling over Nimor’s words. Finally, he relented.
“You may stay a short time, while I think about your offer. I’ll have the captain set aside quarters in the palace for you. Your soldiers will have to stay in a barracks near my own guards. They will not be permitted in the castle.”
“I will require some attendants.”
“Fine, you can retain two, if you wish. The rest go.”
Horgar looked toward the end of the hall and gestured. His captain came trotting up.
“We will speak again when I have made up my mind,” he told her.
“In that event, I will be available at your convenience,” she said to Horgar, but she let her eyes linger on Nimor as she spoke.
“It can’t be done today,” Thummud of Clan Muzgardt told Ryld, Valas, and Coalhewer. The fat duergar stood with a mallet in his hand, carefully sealing a fresh keg of mushroom ale. “Try again in a day or two, I guess.”
Coalhewer swore under his breath, but the two drow exchanged wary looks. It hardly escaped Ryld’s notice that over a dozen duergar brewers happened to be hard at work very close by the spot where Thummud stood, and that many of them had the unmistakable glint of metal beneath their smocks. The brewer wasn’t in the habit of taking chances, it seemed.
“That’s what you said yesterday,” Ryld said. “Time is pressing.”
“Not my problem,” Thummud replied. He finished tapping down the lid, and set the mallet on top of the cask. “Ye’ll have t’wait, like it or not.”
Valas sighed and reached for the purse at his belt. He jingled it judiciously and set it down nearby.
“You’ll find gemstones in there worth better than twice what we agreed on,” the scout said. “They’re yours if you get us that writ today.”
Thummud’s eyes narrowed. “Now I’m wondering what ye really be up to,” he said slowly. “No honest purpose, of that I’m sure.”
“Consider this a personal bonus,” Ryld said quietly. “Your laird expects two hundred pieces of gold per head, and you’ll see to it he gets that. What’s left over, he doesn’t need to know about, does he?”
“I can’t say as ye wouldn’t get what ye want some other time,” Thummud admitted with a shrug, “but the laird was certain of his words to me on this matter. I’d be crossin’ him to do this bit o’ business with ye, and old Muzgardt would have me head for it.” The brewer thought about things for a moment, and added,
“Better make it three or four days, I think. The crown prince’s lads are all over the city, and I don’t need ’em to see ye coming here every damned day.”
The stout dwarf heaved the keg up onto his shoulder and stomped off, leaving the two dark elves standing with Coalhewer in the middle of the sullen crowd of brewers.
“Now what?” Ryld asked Valas.
“Go back to the inn and wait, I’d say,” Coalhewer muttered. “Ye’ll have no luck standing here. Come back in a couple of days.”
“Quenthel won’t like that,” Ryld said, still addressing the drow scout.
All Valas could do was shrug.
The two drow and their guide left the Muzgardt brewery, wrapped in their own thoughts. They marched along for a short distance, putting the brewery well behind them.
“I’m beginning to wonder whether we shouldn’t just write our own letter of passage,” Valas said softly. “We wouldn’t need it for long, after all.”
“That’s a bad idea,” Coalhewer said. “Ye might forge a letter that looks about right, but ye need Muzgardt’s blessing. If ye get stopped, ye’ll be held while they check to be sure that ye’ve got the blessing of the laird. That ye won’t have until Muzgardt grants it to ye.”
“Damn,” Valas muttered.
Ryld examined the situation, trying to figure what to make of it. Either Coalhewer had purposely led them to a dead end, or the difficulty in obtaining the passes was unfeigned. For the first possibility, Ryld couldn’t see any reason why Coalhewer would delay the company in Gracklstugh. Perhaps the dwarf meant to set them up in some way, but if that was the case, wouldn’t he have had ample opportunity to spring whatever surprise he might have had in mind? On the other hand, if Coalhewer and Thummud weren’t collaborating in some elaborate deception, why would the crown prince happen to choose the occasion of the company’s visit to Gracklstugh to crack down on foreigners moving about the realm?
Because he’s got something he doesn’t want foreigners to see, of course, Ryld decided. What wouldn’t he want outsiders to see?
Ryld halted dead in the street. Valas and Coalhewer turned a few steps farther on, looking back at him.
“What is it?” Valas asked.
“You and I have something we need to do,” Ryld said to Valas, then he turned to their guide. “Come to the inn tomorrow morning.”
Coalhewer frowned.
“Fine,” he said. The duergar turned and headed down the street, muttering under his breath, “Don’t blame me if ye get arrested for doing whatever it is ye have in mind. I won’t speak up for ye. I’ll be on me boat if ye need me.”
What is it? Valas asked after the dwarf disappeared into the shadowed street. The crown prince is limiting freedom of movement for foreign merchants and travelers, Ryld answered. He doesn’t want news from the city to get out. 1 think the army of Gracklstugh is going to march.
Valas blinked and signed, You think so?
“It’s what I would do,” Ryld answered. “The question is, how to make sure of it.”
He glanced around the street. As always, any gray dwarf in sight was staring at the two dark elves with undisguised hostility.
Investigating your suspicion makes us exactly the sort of fellows the crown prince’s soldiers will be looking for, Valas signed. The wiry scout frowned, thinking. What would you need to see to confirm your fear?
A supply train, Ryld answered at once. Wagons, pack lizards, that sort of thing. You wouldn’t gather that together unless you meant to march, and it would take several days to do it. You’d need a lot of space.