"Come, my thane. It will be but a short time before you attain your rightful throne."
The voice was whispered by one of the cloaked figures beside him, and he prayed that Thistle was right. She was his favorite mistress and one who dared to speak to him when all others held their tongues. Yet now even she was a bother, and Darkend had to forcibly resist the temptation to bring his mace down hard upon her head.
Turning, he regarded her coldly, hating the confident light that brightened her milky eyes, yet knowing he would take no action against her now, not when he needed the loyalty of all his followers to see him through the next interval.
"Summon my healer, and see that a hot bath is drawn for me," he demanded, taking some satisfaction by giving her orders as though she were a common servant.
Thistle only bowed, then turned to elbow her way through the press of bodyguards to see that her master's wishes were obeyed. Darkend allowed himself to be escorted out, trusting his henchmen to see no ambush awaited him in the shadowed lanes of Daerbardin as the procession made its way through the huge city of the dark dwarves.
Even as he brooded on the coming duel, he couldn't help but admire the galleries, the wide avenues and looming, fortified buildings that made up this, the greatest city in all Thorbardin. The arena lay at the opposite end of the city from his great manor. Both of these locales were on the highest of Daerbardin's three levels, but the roadway they followed curved downward until they walked along an esplanade that was open to the great ceiling, two hundred or more feet overhead. The middle and upper levels of the route formed balconies lined with dark dwarves who gazed down in solemn curiosity at the one who aspired to be their next leader.
Occasionally a single Daergar or a small group let out a cheer as Darkend passed, but for the most part these watchers were silent, uncaring as to which of the noble dark dwarves would win the fight on the next day.
"You should all cheer me, fools!" Bellowsmoke hissed through the mask of his helmet, "For I am the one who can raise our clan to new heights! Look at me now and see the image of your future greatness! See, and be awed!"
These boasts he spoke mainly to himself, though a few of his nearest bodyguards heard his words and exchanged worried glances. The strain of the seven challenges was wearing on him, Bellowsmoke knew. It was a relief to let the great stone gates of House Bellowsmoke crash shut behind him. Once secure behind those barriers, he stalked to his own apartments, waiting only long enough for one of his minions to perform a thorough search.
"The chambers are safe, my lord, and nearly unoccupied," said the sergeant to Darkend as Bellowsmoke waited impatiently in the lofty anteroom. "There is only Thistle there; she tends your bath and awaits your pleasure."
Without a word the noble dark dwarf stalked into his sumptuous chambers, turning at the portal to address his sergeant. "Send for Slickblade at once."
"Aye, lord," replied the gnarled dwarf, paling at the mention of the name. Darkend's hand was on the door, ready to slam the iron portal, but before he could move he was startled by a voice from within his room.
"My heart palpitates in anticipation of your every command, lord."
The words were hissed from the darkness behind him and Darkend whirled, seeing nothing except the familiar outlines of his couches and tables. Only after he stared for a moment did he see the assassin, still cloaked in his usual robe of utter black, rise from his comfortable position on one of the softest divans.
Immediately Darkend turned back to the anteroom, where his already pale sergeant had sunk to his knees, drooling in pathetic fear. "You told me that only Thistle was here, did you not?"
The man gibbered, unable to articulate a reply.
Darkend snapped his fingers, summoning another lackey from among his bodyguards. He pointed at the groveling sergeant. "You will blind him now, and cut his hamstrings for good measure. At dinner tonight he will be strangled for the entertainment of the house."
The replacement dark dwarf stepped forward, drawing a long dagger. Willing helpers seized the thrashing sergeant, and though Darkend finally closed the door, even that heavy portal could not mask the sounds of the wretched sergeant's screams.
"Why did you make me do that?" Bellowsmoke demanded, addressing Slickblade as he started to remove his cumbersome armor. "The man was useful to me, if only because he was less treacherous than most."
The assassin shrugged, slumping back to his seat. "He owed me money."
Darkend stared. "He owed you money, and he refused to pay? Perhaps he was more stupid than I thought."
"He didn't refuse. The loan doesn't come due for several intervals. But it seemed a good time for a lesson, a reminder to those other Daergar who owe me money. I can assure you my next round of collections will be complete."
"And I've lost a capable sergeant," spat Darkend. "You know I had no choice, once you showed them all that he reported falsely to me."
"He deserved it," declared Slickblade dismissively. "In truth, his search was perfunctory. You deserve better protection, lord."
"Would that I could get it." The aspiring thane limped to a cabinet of polished black marble and withdrew a decanter of thick, syrupy liquid. He took a long swig from the bottle, then set it heavily on the counter as he turned back to his assassin. "You heard about events in the arena, I presume."
There was no question in the words-everyone knew Slickblade's information was always current and always reliable.
"Of course. And you will want me to remove Gludh Kolgard before the interval has passed."
"Yes. It will be difficult, so I will double your previous fee." Darkend winced inwardly at the concession. It had already cost him a hefty fortune to have two of his challengers removed before the duel. He was only heartened by the knowledge that if Slickblade was successful, his final payment could be drawn from the thane's treasury and not the Bellowsmoke family vault.
"Not difficult. Impossible." The assassin's reply was blunt, even though his manner was as relaxed as ever.
"You are refusing this task, a task commanded by your lord and future thane?"
"I am refusing, as I would refuse should you ask me to bring you the three moons in a leather bag. After the last six challenges, Kolgard has surrounded himself with the best protection money can buy, and he has a lot of money. His house will be sealed top, bottom, and sides. What you ask cannot be done."
Darkend considered his response carefully. When confronted by frustration his usual instinct was to order the offender seized, blinded and strangled. But he would have to curb that impetuous impulse, for the assassin was far too useful to cast aside for mere vengeance. "Are your skills slipping?" he asked. "Or perhaps you're afraid. It is a pity, because I have long believed you the most accomplished practitioner of your trade in all Thorbardin."
"On all Krynn, and you know it, so don't insult me with appeals to vanity."
"You say his house is sealed. Yet perhaps he may succumb to accident on his way to the arena in the morning. You know it is a long and dangerous walk."
Slickblade shook his head. "Even there his guards will be certain to take extra precautions. It is possible that an opportunity may arise, and if so I shall take advantage. But I warn you, my lord, you must prepare as if you will have to fight this duel."
Darkend Bellowsmoke growled and glowered. He was confronted with an unusual situation: Someone was thwarting his will, and it wasn't practical to have the offender killed. Instead, Darkend took another long pull at the fermented syrup of his thick mead and then spoke thoughtfully.
"So there is no way to avoid him in the arena?"
"You can take him. I've watched both of you fight."