Kitiara walked at her leisure, taking time to look over some dispatches she had received before she’d left. She read again the one from Ariakas stating the red dragons were complaining to their Queen that they were bored. They had entered this war to loot and burn, and if they didn’t get orders to do either, they were going to do it anyway on their own. The Queen reminded Ariakas that she had far more important matters to deal with than this and if he couldn’t handle this situation, she would find someone who could. Ariakas handled it by dumping it in Kit’s lap.
“I’ll do what I can, but I wasn’t the one responsible for this mess, my lord,” Kitiara muttered. “That was your boy, Verminaard. Maybe you’ll think twice next time about putting a cleric in charge of fighting a war!”
She opened the next dispatch, a missive she’d received just as she was leaving. This letter came from a spy in Solamnia, one of Lord Gunthar’s squires who was in her pay. The letter was long, and Kit paused beneath a tree to give it her full attention.
Derek Crownguard and two other knights set sail this date from Sancrist, heading for the city of Tarsis.
“Tarsis,” Kitiara repeated to herself. “Why do they waste time going to Tarsis? I told the fools the dragon orb was in Icereach.”
Reading farther, she found the explanation.
They were told they can find out more information in Tarsis about the dragon orb. Since that city lies not far from Icereach, they decided to stop there. Crownguard is considered a hero for having learned about this artifact. There is general consensus that if he returns with the orb and it allows them to control the dragons, as the knights believe, then Derek will be made Grand Master.
Lord Gunthar argued that they knew nothing about these orbs and so should leave them alone. He did not want Derek to undertake this quest, but he was powerless to stop him. Derek was very clever. He spoke of his discovery of the whereabouts of the dragon orb in open session. All the knights who heard about it were fired with enthusiasm. If Gunthar had tried to prevent Derek from going, there would have been rebellion. These fools are desperate, my lady. They hope for some sort of miracle to save them and they think this is it.
“Your witch’s plan appears to be working, my lord,” said Kitiara grudgingly. She went back to reading.
Gunthar did venture to suggest that he should consult Par-Salian of the White Robes, master of the Tower of Wayreth, and ask about this orb, so that they would have an expert’s opinion of its powers. Derek argued against this, stating that if the wizards learned of the whereabouts of this artifact, they would go after it themselves. Lord Gunthar could not help but admit this argument was valid. All the knights were subsequently sworn to secrecy about the nature of this quest, and Derek and his two companions were sent on their way with loud cheers.
Lord Gunthar did manage to send one of his own men on this quest along with Derek—Sir Aran Tallbow. Sir Aran is an old friend of Derek’s and knows him well. Lord Gunthar hopes Aran will act as a moderating influence on Derek. Aran could be a danger to your plans, my lady. The other knight who accompanies Derek is also one of his longtime friends. His name is Brian Donner, and so far as I can judge, he is of no consequence.
Derek and his friends set sail on a fast ship and as the weather is generally good this time of year, it is predicted he will have a swift voyage and a safe one.
Kitiara finished the letter and then thrust it in the pouch with the other dispatches. She would forward the letter on to Ariakas, who would be extremely pleased to hear that all was going even better than expected.
She kicked a rock in the road, sending it flying. The knights were “divided, desperate, searching for a miracle.” Now was the perfect time to attack them! And here she was, far from Solamnia, trying to find someone to replace a man whose arrogant folly had brought about his own downfall.
Ariakas had recommended she interview a Fewmaster known as Toede for the position of Dragon Highlord. The Fewmaster, a hobgoblin, had been sending in a flood of reports on the war in the west. These reports were deemed by Ariakas to be works of military genius.
“First he wants a draco as Highlord, now a hob,” Kitiara muttered. She kicked at another rock and missed. Halting, she kicked angrily at the rock again and this time connected. “I guess that makes sense. Now that the war is close to being won, Ariakas is beginning to see his human commanders as a threat. He fears that once we have no enemy to fight, we will turn on him.”
Kitiara smiled grimly. “In this, he might well be right.”
Kitiara carefully avoided entering the city of Haven. Abanasinia was her homeland. She had been born and raised in the tree-top town of Solace located nearby. There might be people in Haven who would recognize her, perhaps even remember that she’d visited the city several times before in company with Tanis and her twin brothers, all of whom were also known there.
Tanis Half-elven. Kitiara found herself thinking of him a lot these days, ever since she’d heard Grag tell Ariakas that a half-elf from Solace had been involved in the slaying of Verminaard. Half-elves were not that common in Ansalon, and Kit knew of only one who came from Solace. She had no idea how Tanis could have managed to get himself tangled up with slaves and Highlords, but if there was any man who could have bested Verminaard, it would be Tanis. Kit’s thoughts went back to him, recalling days filled with laughter and adventure, nights spent in his arms.
She became so lost in her memories that, not watching where she was going, she stumbled into a pothole and nearly broke her neck. Picking herself up, she scolded herself.
“What are you doing, wasting time thinking about him? That’s over and done with. In the past. You have more important matters to consider.”
Kitiara booted Tanis from her mind. It wouldn’t do for her to be connected with the local “heroes” who had, according to rumor, dispatched Verminaard. Ariakas was suspicious of her already.
Too bad, Kit sighed. She would have been very comfortable in one of Haven’s fine inns. As it was, she resigned herself to staying in the dragonarmy’s camp, where she would at least have the satisfaction of demanding that she be given the finest accommodations available.
Kit’s unexpected arrival in the headquarters of the Red Dragonarmy threw everyone into a panic. Soldiers rushed about in confusion, falling over themselves and each other in an effort to please her. Some chaos was only to be expected, however, since she’d come on them unannounced. For the most part, Kit found the camp well-run and well-organized. Draconian sentries were at their posts and doing their jobs. She was challenged no fewer than six times before she reached the camp.
Kitiara began to think she had underestimated the hobgoblin. Perhaps Toede was a military genius.
Kitiara looked forward to meeting the Fewmaster, but the pleasure was delayed. No one, it seemed, knew where he was. A draconian dispatched a messenger to fetch the Fewmaster, telling Kitiara the Fewmaster was either perfecting his skills with the bow on the firing range, or drilling soldiers in the parade yard. The draconian said all this in the mixture of Common and military argot typically used by soldiers of mixed races. The draco added a comment in his own language to another draco, apparently under the assumption she would not understand, because both grinned widely.
As it happened, Kitiara’s own personal bodyguard was made up of sivak draconians. She considered it would never do to have subordinates—especially those on whom her life depended—talking in an unknown tongue behind her back, so she had learned their draconic language.
Kitiara heard, therefore, that the draconians had not sent a messenger to either the parade ground or the archery range. The draconians had sent the messenger to the Red Slipper, one of Haven’s most notorious bawdy houses.
Kitiara was escorted to the Fewmaster’s headquarters. Inside, she found half the tent jammed with pieces of furniture, rugs, and knick-knacks that had probably been stolen. The other side of the tent was neat and orderly. Weapons of various types were stacked along one side. A large map, spread out on the dirt floor, showed the positions of the different armies. Kitiara was standing over the map, studying it, when a draconian lifted the tent flap and entered. She recognized the draconian officer she had met in Ariakas’s office.