“Little rope not hurt Brud. All Sluds got necks like iron. Glups, they tough, too. Bulps are sissies. They-”
“Never mind. We've got to get out of here. Where can we hide?”
“How 'bout cave?” suggested Brud, still lying on his back with his eyes closed.
“They filled the entrance with stone,” Riverwind said.
“Ho, lots of ways into that cave,” Brud avowed. A harsh voice intruded.
“What are you doing up there?” A draconian officer stood at the foot of the scaffold. Riverwind kept his face averted.
“Taking him down,” he said in the deepest rasp he could make. “Orders.”
“From whom?”
“Krago. The human wants the body to cut up.”
“Huh! I always said warm-bloods were barbarians. All right. Get on.” The officer turned with a flourish of white cloak and stalked away.
Riverwind stood and tucked Brud under his arm. The little miner grunted and said, “Careful, human. Brud got delicate back.”
“You're supposed to be dead,” Riverwind reminded him. “Be quiet.”
Brud would not keep still. He prattled on about a dream he'd been having when Riverwind roused him: “-and then Highbulp, he says to my brother, 'You cannot say stew like life. Only can say life like stew.' Ho, some Highbulp. Should be Lowbulp, or Lowest of Lowbulps, or-”
“Shut up, will you? You're the most talkative corpse I've ever seen.”
“Brud see talking corpse one time. Was six days dead, and birds had pecked it-”
Mercifully, Riverwind reached the alley once more, where he could set Brud on his feet. The two of them hurried along the lane. Riverwind asked Brud if any of the other Aghar had been hurt.
“Naw, hang not hurt Aghar. Like hang ham-just get better.”
“Didn't the goblins or lizard men notice the other victims weren't dead?”
“Ho, uglies and scale faces not see sun rise in morning if it burn their noses. Aghar scream, cry when brother or sister go on rope. Look sad. Uglies and scale faces go away, we take down. All us look alike to them, so they not know.”
Riverwind almost smiled. “Why were you still up there?” he asked.
“'Spose wife forgot me. Anywhy, Brud fall asleep till you wake so rudely.”
The plainsman shook his head. Crude and uncouth they might be, but no one could say the Aghar weren't a hardy breed. Imagine, falling asleep while hanging…
He stopped Brud with one hand. They were near the corner. Riverwind drew the cloak around him to conceal his ungoblinlike body and stepped boldly into the street. There was no sign of Catchflea or Di An. A few yards away, the North Falls pounded down the cliffside in a swirl of spray. He looked in that direction, but they were nowhere to be seen.
“Human!” called Brud. “Come look!”
On the blank wall of a large building the gully dwarf had found a smear of blood and a scattering of short, dark hair. There were nicks in the wall and pavement, nicks such as pikes or swords would make.
Thouriss had them! He had them both. Riverwind cursed
his negligence…
“Where would he take them?' Riverwind demanded of Brud.
“Many bad places. Maybe old palace.” The gully dwarf put his nose down to the bloodstain and sniffed loudly. “That not girl. Smell like old man.”
“Can you really tell?”
“Brud sniff girl before. This not her,” he answered confidently.
So Catchflea was wounded. The old man wasn't that strong and any wound would weaken him further.
The air stirred. It swirled around Riverwind and Brud, flinging dust in their eyes. The plainsman shaded his face with one hand and felt heat tingle on his skin. Through squinted eyes, Riverwind peered down the street. There was a strange light there. It flickered like firelight but was brighter than twenty torches. As his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw that the odd light came from a ball of fire the size of his head. Tongues of flame leaped and fell, writhing around the central mass. The fireball slowly approached, weaving from side to side like a hound sniffing for a scent. Brud gave a high-pitched yelp and slid behind the plainsman.
The fireball, trailing a long tail of glowing smoke, came straight toward Riverwind's face. He could feel the heat, smell the burning. Riverwind gripped the goblin pike in two hands, ready to swat or strike the strange intruder. The glowing sphere halted just out of range.
“Riverwind,” said a loud, echoing voice. “Riverwind.”
“Who is it?” he shouted back.
“Greetings, barbarian! This is the voice of Thouriss. I am disappointed at the way you abused my hospitality by trying to escape. If you want to see your friends alive again, surrender yourself at the front steps of the old palace at once. Do not delay or they will die.”
“How do I know they aren't already dead?” Riverwind demanded. The fireball was already moving again. It flew straight at his face. Riverwind ducked and thrust the pike at it. The fireball burst with an ear-splitting clap of thunder. Riverwind was blown off his feet-though Brud clinging to his leg didn't help his equilibrium-and landed heavily on his back. The head of the pike was vaporized, along with ten inches of the shaft. Riverwind got to his feet and kicked the useless pole aside in disgust.
Brad stood up, rubbing his rather square head. “Ow-wah! You heavy, human. Should eat less stew.”
“Never mind. We've got to get to the Great Plaza right away!”
“We, human?” Brud said. He shook his head. “Brud go home. Have dinner.”
“No, you don't.” Riverwind hauled the little fellow to his feet. “I need someone to watch my back if I'm walking into a square full of lizard men and goblins. Besides, you owe me,” he said.
“Brud not fighter. Let me get wife; she tougher than dog steak!”
“No, Brud, there's no time. You're quick on your feet and plenty smart.” Besides, the plainsman added silently, you're all I've got. Brad's implacable expression began to soften. “With you at my back, I won't fear anything Thouriss tries to do,” the plainsman coaxed.
Mention of the fearsome commander took the stiffness out of Brud's spine. He slouched and said dispiritedly, “Maybe skinny girl and old man dead. Then you and Brud walk into trap. Maybe get dead?”
Riverwind unfastened the cloak and dropped it in the street. The helmet he tossed over a pile of broken bricks. “I want you to walk behind me and keep both eyes open for treachery. Understand?” The gully dwarf nodded reluctantly. “Don't look so downcast! Think of what a great story this will be to tell your children,” Riverwind said.
Brad scowled. “All children do is talk back, play loud drum music all time night and day. No 'spect for hardworking father.”
Riverwind wound the rawhide thong attached to the mace handle around his knuckles. “Stand by me, Brud, and all the Aghar will respect what you are about to do.” He set off toward the plaza with urgent strides.
“Huh! All Aghar pay 'spects at funeral!” he muttered. But Brud did follow on Riverwind's heels, his hanging rope still looped about his neck, its cut end trailing in the dust.
Chapter Twenty-One
As Riverwind and Brud entered the great plaza, they saw that Catchflea and Di An were tied to the stumps of broken columns in the portico of the ancient building. Both were gagged. Riverwind's eyes went first to Catchflea. The old man was pale. A streak of blood was drying on his left side. Di An's face was twisted in pain. The goblins had tied her high enough on the column that her feet hung several inches above the floor. The tight ropes drove her copper metal dress into her flesh.
Thouriss stood at the head of the cracked steps, resplendent in green enameled armor mottled with black and gold to resemble a snake's skin. The ophidian commander was vain enough not to be wearing a helm, and his smooth, nearly human features contrasted sharply with the corps of goblins and draconians assembled in the plaza.