Finished, Dhamon wrapped his fingers around the ale mug and pulled it close. He contemplated taking a drink, then decided not.
He leaned back in his chair. “Why does the shadow dragon want Sable dead? Really?” Dhamon said in a low voice to the ogre-mage.
Maldred steepled his fingers and answered in similarly hushed tones. “He told you. Two dragons of their size cannot exist without deadly rivalry in the same land. The shadow dragon covets this swamp and does not wish to go elsewhere.” Maldred finished a second mug of ale. “Truthfully I think he would be the better dragon for this country. He wouldn’t meddle with the people who live here, wouldn’t try to expand his territory and enlarge the swamp, would leave the ogre lands alone. He would be content with things the way they already are.”
“Would he?” Dhamon said. “Just why does the shadow dragon need mortals to fight for him? He would stand a better chance against the Black than we would.”
Maldred thought a moment. “A better chance, maybe, but he stays safe this way. And you, Dhamon, he feels you are some kind of anointed warrior. He believes you can sneak into the caverns and surprise and defeat Sable.”
Dhamon gave a quiet laugh. “Surprise an overlord? I rode a dragon, ogre. Dragon’s senses are incredible. You can’t surprise them unless they’re in a deep sleep, and not always then.”
“Your senses are also acute,” Maldred countered, “and you’re stronger than any four or five men. I’ve seen what you’re capable of.”
“Sable will kill all of us, ogre.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
Dhamon took a drink then, feeling the ale warm his throat. He relished the sensation, which he had denied himself for too long. But I will die soon to the scales anyway, Dhamon thought, again touching the scale on his cheek. So what difference does the method of my death make? “I know what I know, ogre, but I’d try to fight Sable anyway if I knew for certain my child would be all right.”
“The shadow dragon will keep his word, I promise you that. He’ll leave Riki’s family alone and call off the hobgoblins. I want to see her and the baby safe, too. And if by some chance you do win…”
Maldred leaned back in the chair, which creaked in protest. “He’ll cure you of the scales.” A pause. “You need that cure, Dhamon, and you and I both know you need it soon.”
Dhamon caught Maldred’s stare, holding it for a long silence. Maldred finally looked away as the serving girl brought more ale.
Dhamon glanced at Ragh, who sat there stolidly, watching Maldred.
“Maldred lies. The shadow dragon lies,” Fiona said to Dhamon.
“Aye, Fiona, the shadow dragon surely lies.” Dhamon pushed away from the table and stood, tightly clenching the glaive’s haft. “But I’ve got to try to save my child.” Or die in the trying, he added silently.
Dhamon walked away from his companions. He heard Maldred rise behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” There was a hint of threat in Maldred’s voice.
“I’m going to see if I can find out where Sable is, ogre.”
Instantly a mix of fear and irritation crossed Maldred’s angular face. He strained to keep his angry voice down. “You can’t, Dhamon. Not yet. Nura Bint-Drax will determine when the time is right. It’s too soon, we’ve told you that.”
“Well, the naga isn’t here, is she? I don’t remember the shadow dragon mentioning anything about timing. And I’m running out of time.” He glanced around and noticed that many of the patrons had become interested in his and Maldred’s conversation. “But don’t worry. I’ll not fight the Black without you at my side. Sable will kill me if I make the attempt. And I want to make sure you’re there to die, too.” If I don’t choose to kill you first in the alley, he thought. When Dhamon reached for the door, Maldred dropped a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re not going anywhere, Dhamon.”
“No? And you’re going to stop me here? With all these people watching?” Dhamon nodded to Ragh, who was intently regarding them. “Wait for me here, the two of you. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours.” He tossed his coin pouch to the draconian, frowned and nodded to Fiona.
Ragh understood. Dhamon was giving the draconian a chance to escape with the Solamnic as soon as Maldred left to follow Dhamon.
“Or do you want to step outside, ogre?” Dhamon opened the door and immediately was greeted by the odors of the city street.
Maldred growled and let him go. The ogre-mage returned to the table, settling himself down with Fiona and Ragh and thumping his empty mug to summon the serving girl. His eyes were on the door, however, and he was clearly seething.
“Aren’t you going to follow him?” Fiona asked.
Maldred shook his head. “Dhamon expects me to, but that wouldn’t be a safe proposition right now.
So I’ll wait for him. You’re here. That means he’ll be back.”
“Will he?” Ragh asked.
Dhamon waited in the alley, expecting Maldred to follow him. He was trying to decide whether to kill the ogre here or later in the bowels of the city, where his corpse might go undiscovered for days. But the ogre didn’t emerge from the tavern, and so after a while Dhamon cut across the street to the stunted tower of the old sage. Maldred had outfoxed him by staying behind.
“At the very least,” Dhamon decided, “I’ll find out if the overlord’s home.”
There were two spawn guards just beyond the stunted tower’s entrance, and Dhamon made quick work of them. He was becoming an expert at fighting the vile creatures, and he knew to jump back after delivering a mortal blow, saving himself from the brunt of their death-throe acid blasts. The glaive was superbly balanced and lightweight, and gave him a good reach. But with every swing he pictured Goldmoon’s face the time he tried to kill her. When this business was done, he’d get rid of the weapon once and for all. It had a magic that nobody could control.
There was only a little light in the corridor, this coming from a pair of guttering fat-soaked torches that had burned down to stubs. When he was last here, the light was reasonably bright and the air fresh.
Now the staleness hung heavy and nested unpleasantly in his lungs, and a thick layer of grime coated the stone floor. Were he not in a hurry and had he not so many other things on his mind, Dhamon would have let the changes bother him, and he might have investigated matters. Now, though, he wanted only to find a way below, and within moments he located a narrow, winding stairway that took him far beneath the city streets.
The stale air turned increasingly foul. Dhamon smelled stagnant water, human waste, and decaying things he’d rather not think about. The corridors became darker the deeper he went, the torches spaced farther apart and many of them burned out. He knew the spawn could see well in the blackness and doubted they cared about providing light for the human prisoners who rotted in the cells he passed. Sable must have some human servants, though, Dhamon guessed, else no one would have bothered with providing any light.
Dhamon slipped down a corridor filled with waist-deep water. The water was cool, and the film that floated on top of it clung to his clothes. Some of the passages were vaguely familiar because of the animal sculptures that served as torch sconces. These had been burning magically before, when the old sage led him to her laboratory. Now the torches were all burned out, save one in each corridor, which gave off an offensive oily smoke—nothing magical about them any more.
A turn and the water deepened to his chest. Another turn and he was sloshing along in a near-river and most certainly lost. He’d let himself become too preoccupied with thoughts of his child and Riki. He hoped Maldred had managed to follow him, or Nura Bint-Drax. The naga had a knack for turning up.