“North of the Duke’s Avenue, the report came just moments ago. It’s wrecking the manors of many of the mercantile nobles, after going through a block of laborers’ houses.”
“And moving east from there, Your Grace,” added a young knight-it was Sir Maxwell, the only one present clad in the garb of the Kingfisher instead of the Sword. He held up a small disk that looked like a compass. “I was able to place an enchantment upon him. It has limited value, I’m afraid, allowing me to track his position with this.”
“That might prove very useful. Now it’s time to go,” Brianna declared. She picked up a pair of gauntlets and slid her delicate hands into the metal gloves. She looked at Jaymes with a glint of challenge in her eye. “I’m coming with you.”
“But, Your Grace!” objected Sir Michael. “I won’t allow it! The risks are far too great!” His words were swiftly echoed by the other knights who were gathered around the table.
“Do not forget, sir, I command here!” she replied tersely.
“I won’t allow it either,” Jaymes said. “You’re needed here.”
Brianna’s cheeks flushed, but her tone was icy. “You presume to-”
“I presume to understand how important you are to this city. The people need you. They need to see you, rally around you. If we can strike down the commanders of this army, we will have a chance to win! It would be foolish for you to risk your life with us-”
“On a wild-ass, insane gamble that has a miniscule chance of success!” Sir Michael completed. He glared at Brianna then shifted his attention to Jaymes. “However, I must insist on coming along with you, my lord,” he said in a more level tone.
“Naturally,” Jaymes agreed, nodding his head and almost cracking a smile.
“I acquiesce,” the duchess snapped. “Let all who are here understand that I do so, unwillingly and reluctantly. But, please Jaymes, take a few more men with you.”
“I’d like to come,” said the Kingfisher eagerly. His eyes were wide, but his voice was confident.
“Good. We could use a wizard to hunt a wizard,” Jaymes agreed.
A chorus of others, virtually all the men in the hall, quickly offered their services to the risky mission. Sir Michael quickly pointed to the Kingfisher and two other burly swordsmen. “That makes five men… and er, a kender,” he appended, as Moptop tugged anxiously on his sleeve. “Is that enough?”
Jaymes nodded. “It’ll have to be. Where do you suggest we start from?”
“My temple is just this side of the palace. We can climb the steeple there and try to get our bearings. From there we should be able to spot these three leaders,” said Maxwell.
“Lead the way,” said the duchess. She stared challengingly at Jaymes and Michael. “I daresay you won’t forbid me to come along that far, will you?” she challenged.
With a shrug, the lord marshal started for the door, and the rest quickly followed him.
“I can have a ton of it here by tomorrow morning, if the price is right,” said Rogard Smashfinger, master forger of Kaolyn. He stroked his blunt fingers through his gray beard, and waited for Dram Feldspar to reply, his expression guarded
The pair were meeting at a table in a clearing of the New Compound. All around them, chimneys smoked, axes thunked, and dwarves bustled about to build the new town in the Garnet range. Even as the town took shape all around them, work progressed on manufacturing more of the black powder, and a new, even stronger bombardment device.
Immediately upon his arrival here, Dram had sent word to his old homeland of Kaolyn-the dwarf kingdom underneath the highest mountains of the range-and he was pleased to see that Rogard Smashfinger personally had come to talk some business.
The two mountain dwarves were old acquaintances, and Dram knew that the smith could be trusted but would demand an exorbitant price. But the steel forged in that mountain dwarf kingdom was without peer, so Dram didn’t hesitate to reach down to the floor and lift up a small sack of jewels he had prepared for just this moment. He raised it to the table, upended it, and watched with satisfaction as Rogard’s eyes grew wide.
“That’s for the first ton, and a comparable sum will be set aside for every ton that follows. And just this season alone, I’ll need at least ten tons, as soon as possible.”
Rogard reached into the sack and picked up several stones for inspection-a mixture of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. He held them, one by one, up to the sun. He squinted suspiciously, muttering to himself as he appraised the stones. His tongue emerged from between his teeth as he beheld a particularly splendid emerald, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips again as he scrutinized the largest stone, a diamond.
“Aye,” he said grouchily. “I suppose these’ll do.” He scooped the gems into the sack and was about to tuck the bag into his pocket when Dram plucked it out of his hand, grinning.
“Tomorrow morning, then?” he said, chuckling. “You can take this away with you when I have the Kaolyn steel.”
“All right!” Rogard huffed. He had, of course, expected nothing less from such a tough businessman as Dram. “Just let me have another look.”
“Be my guest,” Dram offered, watching as the master forger carefully counted out the stones and once more hefted the bag, feeling its reassuring weight.
“We have a deal, then?” Rogard said, handing the sack back to Dram.
“Let’s make it official. Sally!” he called.
His wife scrambled up from the nearby stream bank. Her face was smudged, her hands and apron covered with fish scales and guts-she had been helping to clean the catch for this evening’s supper.
“How about a couple of cold tankards to close this deal between old friends?” Dram asked breezily.
“Get your own damn tankards!” she snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Dram blinked in surprise then looked at Rogard sheepishly. “That’s what I get for marrying a hill dwarf,” he admitted with a pang in his heart, making a joke of it even as he watched her stomp back to the stream.
“Let’s have a drink when I bring the steel down,” Rogard said diplomatically, rising to his feet. “I’d better get moving. Tomorrow morning it is!”
The steeple of the temple, a shrine dedicated to Kiri-Jolith, gave them a chance to look over much of the western half of the city. They could see violent skirmishes raging in the street below as a line of knights stood behind a makeshift barricade of wagons and upturned tables removed from a nearby inn. The men were armed with swords and shields and fought valiantly against a press of goblins that had surged up against the obstacle.
Howling and jeering, the attackers pressed between the planks, crawled under the wagons, and thrust spears and swords at the knights. But the men gave better than they got, cutting down the few gobs who pushed through the barricade, chopping at the hands and heads of those enemy warriors thronging on the other side. Their discipline was admirable and for the time being, that particular group of attackers was stymied.
Things were worse down the adjacent street, they could see, where a platoon of ogres lumbered toward the palace, chasing the last survivors of a collapsed position. One knight, on foot, stood in the path of the attackers. He cut down the first ogre with a lightning-quick slash of his two-handed sword, and crippled two more with swift stabs at their legs. Even as the brutes tumbled, bellowing in agony, he was borne down by a trio of the hulking warriors, each smashing him with a crude axe until the remains were bloody.
Before the ogres could regroup, however, three mounted knights charged in from a side street. They rode in a line abreast, blocking any further advance. The horses kicked out, driving several ogres back, and the knights bore home their attack, holding their tenuous position and slowly pushing the ogres away from the palace.
“There!” cried Sir Maxwell, examining his magical compass. “Look to the north, past the armory!”