The scribe met Marya's stare with sudden calm. "Eban isn't due for some time yet. Be quiet, and let me think."
Fora moment, Marya seemed disposed to argue further. Then she nodded and climbed up on a nearby stool. When Olven resumed writing, she leaned over in sudden excitement. He was merely recording more ofHederick's history in the making, how shy;ever. She returned to the stool and waited, watching intently.
Chapter 16
Tarscenian fumed as he and Mynx stomped along the walkways toward Gaveley's den. "The kender had the Diamond Dragon, and he gave it back. By the Old Gods, Mynx, he gave it back!"
"It was stolen once, it can be stolen again," Mynx countered stoically. "Limp a bit more. You're not a very convincing beggar when you stride along like a king returning to the palace, old man."
"And that's another thing," Tarscenian snapped. He did slow his pace and hunch forward, however, earning him an odd stare from a woman selling silk scarves at the junction of two walkways. "Did you have to fasten the hair to my head in tufts? By the gods, I look like I'm in the throes of some noxious disease!"
"How many beggars do you think are in perfect health?"
That silenced Tarscenian for a time, but after a while, he began to mutter again. "I almost had it. By Paladine's helm, I almost had it! Now Hederick's going to be more careful than ever. That's twice he almost lost it."
The vallenwoods were beginning to change color. It looked to be an early autumn, Mynx thought. They stepped past the deserted home of Solace's former mayor, Mendis Vakon.
"You've got to admit that disguise is convincing. No one has recognized you yet," Mynx said, "not even in that crowd at the temple." Tarscenian grunted grudg shy;ingly. "I'll be glad when we get to Gav's den," Mynx went on. "I'm guessing the goblins we've passed aren't out in the sunshine for their health. Goblins hate day shy;light. There must be quite a price on your head, old man."
"Hederick hates me." "No kidding. Want to tell me why?" Tarscenian glared at her. "I abandoned his religion, eloped with his mage sister, and have spent the past five decades with her trying to steal his most prized posses shy;sion."
Mynx raised her eyebrows as she edged around two goblins, squinting and chattering on the walkway. "That'd do it, I guess."
They went on in silence. Tarscenian limped, pausing periodically to wave his begging bowl halfheartedly at a passer-by. Mynx walked confidently in her armor and helm, periodically halting to allow Tarscenian to catch up. She rather enjoyed the deference people gave to war shy;riors. They didn't step aside quite so easily for thieves.
"If there's such a huge price on my head, why haven't you turned me in?" Tarscenian asked after the sixth per shy;son had given him and his begging bowl as wide a berth as possible on a four-foot suspended bridge fifty feet above the ground.
"Gaveley'd have my head," Mynx said matter-of-factly. "I'd be undercutting him. I'm not in a mood to start my own ring of thieves-or find legitimate work. I stay in line."
"What if Gaveley ordered you to turn me over?" Mynx glowered at another pair of goblins. They appeared not to notice the ferocity of her stare. "He won't," she said. "Gaveley allowed you to remain in his den last night. That means he's honor-bound to treat you as a friend. Gaveley places a high value on honor; he says it comes from his noble blood." She snorted. "Any shy;way, Gav hates Hederick. He hates everyone with money, but especially religious fanatics with money." She grunted. "Not that I blame him."
Having reached the southeastern edge of Solace, they made their way to the ground by one of the stairways that circled the vallenwood. A disquieting noise now disturbed the whispering of the vallenwood leaves and pine needles. The sounds of grief and fear halted their steps halfway down the staircase, but they could see nothing untoward.
"Good gods," Mynx whispered. "What is that?"
This was more than a lone soul facing heartache- more, even, than a dozen souls. Mynx and Tarscenian exchanged uneasy looks. Her dagger was already in her hand. Her palms were sweaty. Tarscenian's hand had gone to the hilt of his sword under the filthy cloak.
"We should investigate," Tarscenian whispered.
"It's none of our concern, old man," Mynx snapped. The vehemence of her remark was surprising.
"Someone needs help," Tarscenian insisted.
Mynx shook her head. She could barely speak, her teeth were chattering so hard. "No one's ever helped me, old man. And I don't help anyone. Unless they pay me."
"You helped me."
"Gaveley told me to," she snapped. "Don't give me credit for that."
Then Tarscenian was gone, bounding down the stairs. He raced across a clearing, through an opening in the underbrush, and down a wide, packed-earth pathway lined by pines.
Mynx stood irresolutely. Then a crow squawked over shy;head, and she rushed after Tarscenian.
She caught up with Tarscenian at the edge of a clear shy;ing, bounded in slender logs like a corral. But inside milled, not horses, but fifty or so people. Mynx recog shy;nized some of them-including the mayor's wife and her four children.
It was from this crowd of captives that the chorus of muffled sobs, entreaties, and shouts arose. A dozen hob shy;goblins stood guard outside the fence, and another dozen goblins patrolled the inside of the corral, helping to keep the people packed in a tight circle.
Mynx and Tarscenian hid in the underbrush of honey shy;suckle vines and maple saplings, observing the scene.
Unlike their goblin cousins, who rarely exceeded four feet in height, hobgoblins reached six feet and higher. These beasts were dark gray, with red faces and yellow eyes and teeth. They carried swords, spears, whips, and shields. Mismatched metal armor protected their shoul shy;ders, arms, and shins. Leather armor covered their tor shy;sos.
Most of the hobgoblins called to each other in gibber shy;ish. However, two spoke to each other and to their cap shy;tives in a rough form of Abanasinian. Both carried bows. "Sergeant," one said. "We ready move." "We go when I say," the leader snapped back. "Not enough yet. Wait for more."
"But gets late," the first protested. "Won't get far 'fore sun downs, set camp." The leader responded without a word by pulling a
dagger and pointing it at the other. The reluctant one slunk away, mumbling, around to the other side of the corral.
One of the captives, a young man, broke loose from the knot of humans and goblins and tried to vault over the log fence. The sergeant calmly lifted his bow and shot the youth in the chest.
"Shoulda paid taxes, fool," the sergeant remarked. "Wouldn' be here then." He gestured to the goblins, who swarmed over the body.
Mynx hid her face in her hands, and Tarscenian put a gentle arm around her shoulder. "We must help them, Mynx/' he whispered.
She lifted her head. "The two of us against two dozen goblins and hobgoblins? Are you crazy?"
"All these people did was refuse to pay Hederick's taxes," Tarscenian replied, voice low.
"What do I care? Thieves don't pay taxes."
"Don't you see what's happening? They're being sold into slavery, Mynx!"
"Not one would lift a finger for me. We're outnum shy;bered, old man."
"There are fifty people in that ring, at least thirty of them strong men and women. Plus we're armed. That's not being outnumbered."
"And you think those two-legged sheep will stand with you against hobgoblins?" Mynx laughed out loud. The nearest monster looked over its shoulder into the greenery, frowning, pointed ears atwitch.
"There's only one way to find out." Tarscenian rushed out of the underbrush, sword at the ready. Without warning, the old man slipped the blade under the hob shy;goblin's arm and sank it into its rib cage. The creature bellowed and went down, arms and legs churning.