The lean warforged stopped in front of the warlord’s chair and waited to be recognized, while the squat guard took up a position near the door. Bergerron continued reading until he finished the page he was on, then closed the book and looked up.
“General Brochann to see you, Warlord,” the warforged said in a hollow, unemotional voice.
“Thank you, Longstrider. You and Shatterfist may leave.”
The warforged named Longstrider turned toward Vaddon and regarded him for a moment. Longstrider’s stone features remained fixed and unchanging, as was normal for his kind, but Vaddon had the feeling the creature was sizing him up and trying to decide whether he could be trusted alone with his master. Evidently Vaddon passed muster in the end, for the warforged departed, followed by Shatterfist, who closed the library door behind them. Vaddon knew the guards would take up positions on either side of the door in the outer hall and wait for Bergerron’s summons should he need them. Bergerron may have implicitly vouched for Vaddon’s trustworthiness by telling the guards they could leave, but that didn’t mean the two warforged would go far.
Bergerron smiled at Vaddon. “Sorry it took me a moment to realize you were here. I often get lost when reading poetry.”
“I prefer military histories, myself.”
Bergerron smiled. “Spoken like a true son of Karrnath. Still, it never hurts to broaden one’s horizons, does it? Remember what they teach at Rekkenmark: ‘One never knows what knowledge may turn the tide of battle.’ ”
“True.” But even so, Vaddon didn’t think he’d be borrowing any of Bergerron’s poetry collections in the near future.
“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Bergerron asked. “I assume you received my message to shut down the Outguard’s project and vacate the lodge.” He frowned. “I hope you’re not here to try to get me to change my mind.”
“No, Warlord. I received your message. I’m here to report what I did upon reading your message”-he paused-“and what happened afterward.”
Bergerron raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, merely waited for Vaddon to continue.
Despite his rank and decades of experience, right then Vaddon felt like a green recruit called on the carpet in front of his commanding officer. He took a deep breath and without preamble launched into his report, though it was a struggle for him to maintain control of his emotions toward the end. Bergerron listened without expression or reaction.
“So, the project was a success of sorts,” he said after a moment.
Vaddon started to object, but Bergerron held up a hand to forestall him. “Of course what happened to your brother and daughter is regrettable, but their transformations have proven Elidyr’s basic theory: Symbionts can make significant weapons. Perhaps not controllable ones at this point, but even if the hosts remained wild and chaotic, they could still be of use. We would only need to aim them at an enemy and turn them loose …”
Vaddon didn’t believe what he was hearing. When he was a young soldier, he’d served under Bergerron in numerous campaigns, and he’d always admired the man’s bravery and sharp, strategic mind. That was why he’d continued to serve the warlord even though the Last War was over. Whenever the Next War inevitably came, Vaddon wanted to be leading troops under Bergerron’s banner. But the words coming out of the warlord’s mouth now were madness.
“My lord, did you not listen to my tale? The experiment was a disaster! Not only were Lirra and Elidyr turned into uncontrollable monsters, we almost allowed a daelkyr lord to come through into our world!”
Bergerron gave Vaddon an icy glare. “You are understandably distraught over what has happened to your family members, Vaddon, and for that I shall forgive your impertinence. This time. But try to remember your training-in battle, emotions are often the real enemy we must fight.”
Another platitude they passed along at the Rekkenmark Academy, and up to this point, one Vaddon had believed in. But now it was just a hollow saying, bereft of meaning. How could he ignore the hideous transformation that had befallen his beloved daughter and brother? But Bergerron was his warlord, and Vaddon had pledged his allegiance to the man, and so he would do his best to keep a tighter rein on his emotions.
Vaddon inclined his head stiffly. “Please accept my apologies, Warlord, along with my gratitude.”
Bergerron made a dismissive gesture, and a thoughtful expression came over his face.
“You did the right thing by coming here as soon as possible to inform me of what occurred,” Bergerron said. “Tell me, what are the rest of the Outguard doing right now?”
“I gave them orders to complete our withdrawal from the lodge, and then to return to the garrison at Geirrid when the task was finished. Three of my people will make camp on the town’s outskirts where they will guard the dolgaunt Sinnoch until my return. The creature swears he had nothing to do with the Overmantle’s malfunction, but I don’t trust him. I’d have killed him if I didn’t think he might still be of some use in finding Lirra and Elidyr.”
Bergerron nodded. “Very good. And what of the Overmantle?”
“Elidyr damaged it before departing the lodge, but it remains with those guarding the dolgaunt. There is no danger of the creature repairing it and using it for his own purposes, not without my brother’s guidance.”
“I see.” Bergerron paused for a moment then, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue. “Do you have any idea why I ordered you to shut down the symbiont project so abruptly?”
“I’d assumed that the project’s secrecy had been compromised somehow. I intended to look into the matter after we had vacated the lodge.”
“You assumed correctly, Vaddon. One of my spies informed me that Arnora Raskogr had somehow gotten wind that something strange was going on at my hunting lodge and that she was planning on letting Kaius know.” Bergerron gave Vaddon a thin smile. “We couldn’t have that now, could we?”
“No, Warlord.”
Vaddon had guessed it was something like that. The intrigues between Karrnath’s warlords were constant and never-ending, and they’d only gotten worse with the cessation of hostilities. Warriors needed battles to fight, he supposed, even if they had to manufacture the reasons for those battles themselves.
“I thought you and Warlord Raskogr were on relatively good terms,” Vaddon said.
“The key word is relatively.” Bergerron grimaced. “For a time she was allied with those of us who believe Kaius to be too weak to lead our nation, but recently she’s begun cozying up to him in order to gain his favor. I doubt she’s suddenly had a change of heart regarding Kaius’s suitability as a ruler. But if nothing else, Arnora has always been a pragmatic woman, and she’s likely come to believe that the winds of fortune are currently blowing in Kaius’s direction. If she could cast suspicion on me, and Kaius learned of my true feelings about him and the steps I’ve taken to, if not overthrow him, at least undermine his power, Kaius would be grateful, and Arnora would rise significantly in status.”
“How did she find out about the symbiont project?”
Bergerron shrugged. “No doubt from one of her spies serving in my keep. Oh, don’t look so shocked, Vaddon. We all have spies planted in each other’s homes.” He grinned. “Keeps us on our toes.”
It all sounded more than a little childish to Vaddon, and he was beginning to regret his pledge to serve Bergerron. “At least the lodge is vacant now, and all traces of the experiment have been removed. Warlord Raskogr will never learn of what happened there.”