They cut across the street in front of the old tower. Di An could hardly walk, much less pad silently, so Riverwind scooped her up.
It seemed to the plainsman that Di An was heavier. But, like Catchflea, he kept silent, not wishing to add to her fear. His own worry increased.
On the other side, a deep gash split the street. The stream that ran down the center of the old road splashed into the hole. Riverwind and Catchflea waded through the knee-deep water. Another street branched off directly in front of them. The blank walls of the gully dwarf settlement gave no clue as to who or what lay on the other side. Light spilled out of the adjoining street ahead. In single file, Riverwind- still carrying Di An-and Catchflea crept down the street, always keeping to the shadowed side of the wall. They halted at a corner, and Riverwind set Di An gently down.
Dropping low on the pavement, Riverwind peeked around the corner. A small plaza opened out at the end of the short alley, and there, lit by bundles of torches, was a terrible sight. The goblins had erected a gallows, and a single gully dwarf still hung there. Riverwind whispered this to his friends.
“The families must have claimed the others,” Catchflea said. “I wonder who the poor fellow is who's still there.”
“Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve a fate like this,” Riverwind replied. “I'm going to cut him down.”
“Suppose you're seen?” Di An said.
But the plainsman was gone. He slipped around the corner and moved slowly down the street. Riverwind unhooked the mace from his belt and flattened himself against the near wall. The torches threw the shadow of a lurking goblin on the opposite wall. He was standing guard. Riverwind found a loose stone chip and tossed it into the plaza. The guard presented his pike and growled, “Who goes there?” When no one answered, he advanced a pace. Riverwind could have reached out and touched the wicked iron head of the pike.
The goblin was about to return to his post when Riverwind flicked another pebble into the dark end of the square. The guard advanced three steps this time. He never saw Riverwind as the mace came down on his head. Riverwind dragged the heavy creature into the alley. He donned the goblin's cloak and helmet, and ported the pike on his shoulder. He marched out into the middle of the plaza. There were two more goblins off to the left, but they paid no attention to one of their own.
Riverwind stepped up on the stone slab that had been set up as the base of the gallows. The poor gully dwarf's face was turned away, for which Riverwind was grateful. He put his shoulder under the thick little man and cut the rope with the pike head. Riverwind lowered the gully dwarf to the scaffold.
It was Brud Stonesifter.
Thouriss had succeeded. Riverwind felt a lump in his throat. Along with many of his fellows, Brud had suffered and died because of them, because they had forced him to help them.
“I am sorry,” Riverwind whispered.
“Huh?” said Brud.
Riverwind nearly fell over backward. “Did you speak?” he hissed, eyeing the two goblins. They were hunched over, busy in conversation. They hadn't heard.
“Uh-huh. Brud hungry. Got a rat leg I can gnaw?”
Aghar eating habits aside, Riverwind was astonished. “I saw you hanging! How can you be alive?”
“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.”