"I won't be able to do anything as long as I'm like this," Kaz retorted, indicating his chains with a rattle. "Are you planning on releasing me?"
His ethereal companion looked away in what might have been outright embarrassment. "You will know what the time comes." The staff tapped against the floor again. "The guard is stirring."
The minotaur glanced at the door, hearing, in the distance, the movements of the sentry. He turned his gaze back to the gray man, but the human was no longer there.
"Typical mage," he snarled under his breath. "More damned trouble than help!" Still, his mood had lifted, his determination returned. He had battled ogres, mages, and even living statues, defeating all of them. He might fall to Infernus, but he was not going to go complacently to his death.
It would have eased his mind if he had been able to retrieve Honor's Face, but surely any strong minotaur axe could cut through the scaly hide of a dragon, couldn't it? There was one way to find out.
Something blotted out the light. The shadowed head of the guard covered most of the barred window as he glanced inside at the prisoner.
"Something the matter?" Kaz asked.
The sentry peered inside, then snorted. After one more quick glance, he shook his head and departed without a word.
Alone again, Kaz considered the gray man. From what little he now recalled of Huma's encounters with the figure, the gray man never said more than he needed to say. He did not promise that Kaz would succeed; nor did he promise that the minotaur would live, even if he somehow did garner victory. Huma had died even though he defeated the Dark Queen; the same might happen to Kaz. It was not a comforting thought, but it did not dissuade him. If he had one last opportunity even to slow down the dragon's machinations, then he would gladly take it. • He wished the others were not involved. They might all perish. Even if the gray man mourned them also, he would immediately start searching for someone else to restore the balance. In some ways, his methods seemed almost as heartless as those of the dragon. Yet it was the gods who forced the mage to act as he did, the gods who interfered whenever they felt like it.
That was not quite the truth, and Kaz knew it. Paladine was not like that, and Kaz supposed that even the hands of the most powerful gods were tied at times.
"Paladine," he whispered. "Kiri-Jolith… and you, too, Habbakuk." The three gods made up the pantheon honored by the three orders belonging to the Knights of Solamnia. Kaz respected these three the most for their sense of justice and honor. Especially now, it made more sense to honor the Solamnic gods rather than Sargas, who seemed to demand so much and give pitifully little. "Do you think you could make an exception and interfere just one time? For me?"
He received no answer, of course.
Infernus looked out over his city, his kingdom. His eyes allowed him to see everything in exceptional detail despite the darkness. He could make out the tall walls surrounding the northern reaches of Nethosak. Nethosak had become a marvel that any race could admire, and the damage done by the war was but a memory. He had molded the minotaurs well in that respect; they worked like bees in a hive, constantly building and rebuilding for the good of the race.
There were exceptions, however. The greatest of these would perish, though, and his taint would fade before the year was out. The new campaign, the red dragon's campaign, would demand the minotaurs' full attention.
The minotaurs were his by right. Infernus knew that. It was he who had worked so long to make them what they were now. When he had come, at his mistress's bidding, Nethosak had been a young city only a fraction of its present size. The temple of Sargas had been less of a power then, as had been the governing body of the race. Already a competitive people by nature, Infernus simply played on that aspect of the minotaur personality and busied himself creating what would become the Great Circus and the games.
With his ability to shift form, he had easily infiltrated their kind. A green dragon, often used for plans involving subtle cunning, might also have succeeded in influencing the minotaurs, but greens, Infernus thought with a snort of derision, were poor military beasts. They were good for little plots behind the scenes, but they failed to comprehend the intricacies involved in creating an armed force or fighting a strategic, large-scale battle.
He had thought first of assuming the role of emperor, but the temple and the role of high priest offered a more secluded, secret hierarchy. It provided him with the privacy he needed, plus its influence could be even greater than that of the other arms of the government, if played correctly.
So much work, Infernus thought with pride, returning to his chambers. Under the guise of the high priest Presir, whom he had, of course, been forced to eliminate, Infernus had caused the first temple to be built. Its grand scale had appealed to the populace, and he had known that, when completed, it would continue to impress future generations as well. The audience chamber and his own personal rooms he designed so that he would be able, at times, to return to.his true shape. Infernus had directed the artisans to carve the dragon relief that now stood over the massive doorway to the audience chamber.
He had actually enjoyed revealing himself to the small, pathetic group that had attempted to rescue the hatchling. Only the minotaur supposedly chosen to be the next high.priest ever saw his true form, and that just before the dragon dispatched the unfortunate and took on his corporeal shape. In some ways, it was a pity these heretics had to die. It would have been a pleasant respite for Infernus to, on occasion, speak to someone who knew the truth.
Of course, there was the hatchling. Given time, she would understand better than anyone else.
"You would be more comfortable if you would just give in to your destiny, Young One," Infernus informed the tiny figure standing in the middle of the chamber. "I could ease the restraints a little bit, then."
"I won't help you!" Ty was surrounded by a field of crimson that pulsated with each breath the young woman took. The strain of standing through the night was obvious in her tense expression, but she had not sat down since Infernus had moved her here from the great audience chamber.
"Your will is a credit to your heritage. A human, even a minotaur, would not be so strong. They are all weak, the little races. It is we, the dragons, who should have rightly come to rule Krynn." The high priest indicated the city outside. "We are everything they are not. Look at what little they have done during their existence. They spend so much time quarreling with one another that they fail to achieve much else. They need the guidance of an older, wiser race to show them how the world was meant to be. •They need us, Young One. That is why you should be I willing to help me. It is for their own good."
"You're lying! Kaz and Delbin would never want me to help you!"
There was a fleet waiting to depart in a matter of a few days and a vast army poised to march around and through the mountains to the west. They were awaiting his command. He did not have the time to spend trying to convince this confused young silver dragon of what was the right thing to do. Infernus decided that once the minotaur Kaz was dead, he would resort to harsher methods of persuasion. She would change her mind when the minotaur's body was brought to her. The hatchling's defiance, too, was a credit to her race, but enough was enough. Infernus had a world to conquer.
"You are weak, Young One, not so much in power but in mind. I see I shall have to do what I can to educate you, to teach you. You will come to appreciate my efforts, believe me." Infernus steepled his hands. Centuries of role-playing had ingrained certain human habits in the dragon's mind and body. He talked to Ty as he would one of his faithful acolytes. "This is for the good of all. You will agree in the end, even if your friend Kaz understands too late. It is better that his life ends before the great campaign begins. He would not cooperate, and his continued presence would only confuse otherwise loyal soldiers."