That chains were no longer attached to those bracelets was a sign of the level of trust that had grown between the Grand Khan and his personal servant. The elf woman-already freed of her bonds by another-had, of her own volition, rejected freedom in order to help her wounded and battered master from the battlefield, and had cared for him loyally since. She had been given ample opportunity to flee or escape, but had never done so.
Golgren boasted to his followers that she adored him even more than they did. But there were other reasons he knew for her dedication that he admitted only to himself. After all, he still held in his hand the future of many of her people, kept secure-if captive-in a special pen at one end of the capital. He had once promised to release them after his ascension to Grand Khan, but circumstances had forced him to delay their release. He might yet keep that promise, if it suited him.
Also-though he preferred not to think of the disturbing possibility-he suspected Idaria of ties to the world beyond Golthuu. He believed she might be a spy.
As to whom she spied for, that was another question. The Knights of Solamnia, the regal knighthood that ruled the realm to the west named for them, were one possibility. Once, Golgren had hoped to make peace overtures to the Solamnians, using the liberation of the elf slaves as a goodwill offering. He still hoped to join with the Solamnians, for they presented the best hope for an ally he might play off against the Uruv Suurt.
However, Idaria had shown no interest in the lone knight of the sword who had come to Golgren as an emissary. She could have fled with the knight, rather than stay with her enslaver. Yet she lingered. That made Golgren wonder whether she was working for the bands of elves who had the desperate dream of recovering Ambeon for their own occupation. Or perhaps she followed the orders of another human faction bordering his domain: the black-armored knights of Neraka-once fanatic allies of the goddess Takhisis, and a political power in their own right.
Or perhaps she served someone whose identity he did not yet know.
“It is not yet morn,” the elf whispered behind him. Elves were tall, but still she had to reach up to touch his shoulders. “Why do you not sleep a little longer? You are in great need of it, my lord. There has been so much burden on you.”
“I sleep enough. Bring me wine.”
As Idaria moved to obey, Golgren took the moment to stretch his stiff bones. Even the elf’s knowledgeable nurturing of his injuries had only been able to do so much to help him recover. And he was not about to turn to the Titans for some potion.
The blue-tinted sorcerers had been very quiet of late, far too submissive for the Grand Khan’s taste. Their new leader, Safrag, had come to Golgren early on after the devastation. He had thrown the blame on whatever mysterious force had resurrected the dead, and the inadequacies-not exactly the way Safrag had phrased it, but the tone was there-of the Titans’ late creator, Dauroth. Dauroth, to hear his successor describe things, had struggled hard with his followers to stave off the mysterious earthquake. The first and eldest of the Titans had perished when consumed by the very spell that had saved the Grand Khan and Garantha. That was good, at least.
Safrag, ever bowing, had sworn that the Titans would work hard to discover who was behind the sinister plot against their race. He had since only appeared before Golgren twice. Both of those brief appearances had been at Golgren’s command and were more for him to keep his eye on what the sorcerers themselves were up to, rather than for any important business.
In both cases the ogre leader had learned very little about the mysterious activities of the Titans.
But from other sources …
Idaria brought him a silver goblet filled with sweet red wine-some of the last of his rare elf reserves. Soon, Golgren would have to resort to the brackish, thick brews of his own kind, or find a way to steal or trade for some of the better Solamnic fare, the most reasonable substitute.
The Grand Khan downed a good portion of the wine before stiffening.
“Tyranos,” he half growled.
A shadow detached itself from one corner, coalescing into a mountain of a man, a lion-faced human nearly as tall as the ogre was and far broader of shoulder. His golden brown hair hung like a mane around his broad face. He wore a sardonic grin.
One of the human’s hands turned downward. From it grew a short staff that barely touched the ancient marble floor. Out of the top of the staff sprouted a five-sided crystal the size of a fist, which radiated a silver glow.
Although clearly a wizard, the leonine Tyranos did not wear the white, red, or black robes of the three established orders. Rather, his voluminous robe was a deep, rich brown color. Some might have taken him for a sorcerer, for sorcerers utilized a different magic. But all that Golgren had witnessed thus far indicated otherwise. Still, a wizard who did not belong to one of the three orders was a renegade, someone feared and despised by the others.
That fate did not seem to bother the powerfully built human, who looked more like a fighter than a spellcaster. The wizard bowed his head to Golgren and flashed a grin at the female slave.
“Have I intruded?” he asked teasingly.
The Grand Khan ignored the remark. “I have no patience. What is it you interrupt me with, human?”
Tyranos’s grin faded. “Oh, merely the impending destruction of all you hold dear. The usual thing.”
They were an uneasy alliance, the wizard and the ogre leader. Golgren relied on Tyranos to help him monitor the Titans and other problems. As for Tyranos, his motives were murky. But he did share the same obsession with the Grand Khan and the Titans.
The legacy of the High Ogres.
The lord of Golthuu purposely turned from the wizard, his eyes sweeping across his personal chambers. Although they had been repaired as best as possible, there were visible fault lines in the sealed stone walls and the marble floor. The fluted columns were likewise adorned with sealed cracks; some of them had needed rebuilding after falling into crumbling ruin. Great, colorful tapestries of elven tree homes and mythic beasts covered other damaged parts of the walls.
The chamber-the entire palace of the Grand Khan, in fact-had once been the residence of the great High Ogre leaders. Indeed, in the halls and corridors beyond could be seen extravagantly carved reliefs of the ancestors of those who populated the land. More fair of face than elves, the High Ogres had also been far more powerful. Their influence had spread throughout the continent of Ansalon to other parts of Krynn. They had wielded magic in a manner unseen in the modern age, and all other races had bowed to their superiority.
But the grandeur they had created eventually dissipated. Ogres believed that their ancestors had been betrayed by the lesser races and somehow had degenerated over the generations until they arrived at their present form. The legend as the outside world saw it-as even Golgren believed-was that the High Ogres had become so arrogant the gods had punished them.
But the Grand Khan believed that a rebirth of that golden age was destined, and he shared his belief with the Titans. However, Golgren and the mysterious sorcerers very much disagreed about the means of reaching that new golden age.
“It is the Titans?” he asked Tyranos.
“I’d venture to say that a breath is not drawn in Kern and Blode-pardon, in all Golthuu-that they don’t try to influence. As to actual evidence, that’s always another story, eh?”
The half-breed turned to the wizard. “So? If it’s the usual story, why is the news of such import that you must disturb me?”
The leonine human glanced pointedly at Idaria. Golgren generally did not dismiss his favored slave, even when talking with Tyranos. She already knew many secrets that existed only between them. The wizard had never protested before, though his reasons for trusting her were certainly not those of his partner.