"I walk. Me good walker, for sure."
"I'm sure you are." Tarn winced, knowing he could be in for a long conversation. "I mean, where did you go to come to this part of… er, Agharhome?"
"Over there… where I go now!" Suddenly the sturdy little fellow bounced to his feet and dashed with startling alacrity across the sleeping chamber, disappearing into one of the wardrobes that had been standing open. The door shut with a loud clunk, but then he realized that the noise had come from the large door to his room.
His mother stood in the portal now, staring at him with a pinched, thoughtful expression. "I see that you're awake. Actually, one of the guards thought he heard you talking to yourself." She looked around suspiciously.
"Yes," he stated in a controlled angry voice, "I make better company than most people."
Garimeth sniffed as she came into the room followed by a pair of armed guards. "You could do with a bath," she declared acidly.
Vaguely Tarn smelled the lingering aftermath of Regal Wise-Always.
"I didn't sleep very well," he complained. "Something got hold of my stomach. Maybe you can tell me what it was?"
"It was Aminus Hybrythia." She gave the name of a rare fungus, widely known for its soporific effects. "It served its purpose, I have to admit."
"And what purpose was that?" demanded Tarn, rising to his feet and staggering in spite of his determination to show no weakness. He clamped his jaws against a swelling wave of nausea. "Why did you knock me out? My orders were to speak to Uncle Darkend, the new thane, and I must do so right away."
His mother's expression remained stoic, though the two guards who held small but lethal crossbows raised their weapons fractionally. Finally the truth dawned on Tarn.
"What day is it?" he asked dully.
"You've slept for the last three cycles. Poor thing, you seemed to be terribly tired."
"Then he's visited Daerforge and gone back to his palace already?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then I must go to Daerbardin and talk to him!"
"You'll do no such thing." Now the guards stepped forward to flank his mother as she moved closer to him. "For two reasons-one of which is for your own good-though you're probably too thick-headed to see it."
He waited, saying nothing, numb even to the retching of his stomach and the aching in his head.
"First, you're on a fool's errand. Darkend Bellowsmoke has no more intention of listening to Hylar counsel than he does of taking a goat for his wife."
"You can't know that!" Tarn protested.
"See-too thick, like I said. But it's true. In fact, after hearing you out, your uncle would have to kill you before letting you run back to Hybardin."
"That is why you knocked me out for three days?" he asked sarcastically.
"Don't tempt me to make it longer," she warned.
"How long do you plan to hold me here?"
"I can't have you talking to Darkend. This is not a good time for such a family reunion. And believe it or not, this is the only place you'll be safe."
"Why can't I talk to Darkend? And why are you making it your business to see that I don't?"
"He's my brother, dearie. I've looked after his best interests ever since we were children together. Listen to me. What do you think Darkend has been doing since he took the throne? And why do you think he was meeting with the thanes of the Klar and Theiwar?"
"What do you mean?" Tarn's voice was dull.
"Perhaps you'd like to have a look."
Garimeth indicated the door. Sensing the alertness of the two guards and the arrows pointed at his back, Tarn followed her outside. They stood on one of the wide plazas of the great manor, a place with a view of the crescent of Daerforge's waterfront and the broad swath of the sea beyond. There was a lot of activity there, columns of dark dwarves forming on the docks and collecting in the streets beyond the waterfront.
The bay, Tarn saw immediately, was thick with boats. A great, metal-hulled flotilla was in the process of boarding and gathering at the dockside of Daerforge. The scene bristled with armed Daergar. This was the embarkation of an army that could only have one goal, one destination.
Tarn's eyes rose to the spire of illuminated rock in the middle of the subterranean sea. Hybardin stood out like a beacon from the murk of the underworld, torches and lanterns and bonfires lighting the pillar like an outline of distant stars. Specks of illumination reflected in the black stillness of the water. It was his imagination to be sure, but Tarn heard the banter of the dockyard markets, the tapping of kegs, and the searing of grilled meats-all against the backdrop of cheerful Hylar society. He suddenly realized that he missed home very much.
And he wondered if he would ever see it again.
"The Klar? The Theiwar, too? It's a general attack?" he asked, masking his rising panic by the cool disinterest of his voice. He was terribly afraid. All he could think about was Belicia Felixia and her newly-trained company of novices.
"Yes. The Theiwar shall come by boat from the other side of the sea and the Klar are taking the tunnels of the high route. With any luck, they'll be charging into that nest of grand dames and doddering old fools on Level Twenty-eight before the Hylar even know the attack is underway."
Tarn knew the passages she meant. The great homes of the nobles were on the highest of Hybardin's levels. Many of these had access to passages bored through the great dome of rock that arched over the sea. During the thousands of years Thorbardin had been inhabited, these tunnels had been expanded into a network of passages that could be used to connect Hybardin to virtually any other part of the great dwarf kingdom. Since they granted no access to the outside world, however, they had only peripherally been considered by those who planned for the Life-Tree's defense.
Level Twenty-eight was where Baker Whitegranite's house was, where his mother had lived for decades. The people who lived there now had been his mother's neighbors, her peers, and her companions since before Tarn had been born. He felt a wave of revulsion now at the thought that she could discuss their impending doom with such coldness. At the same time, he sensed that it was important not to let her see his true reaction.
"And Darkend organized this whole attack in the last few days?" he pressed.
"Actually, he's been planning it for some months. Since before he became thane, actually. My brother's a very good planner-not a dull, plodding scholar like your father. Darkend was waiting for a certain piece of news. When he got it, he was ready to move."
"Word about Thane Hornfel and the Hylar army!" Tarn's eyes tightened on his mother's face. He spoke heatedly in spite of his earlier resolve for discretion. "And you brought word from your own husband. You betrayed my father, the thane, the whole city."
"If you don't think the Hylar deserve it, then you've been sleepwalking through life," she retorted sharply. "For too many centuries the smug Hylar have been lords of Thorbardin, and the time for their arrogant rule has passed."
But Tarn's mind was following other paths. "Planned for months, while Darkend was waiting for word… Then you have been part of this conspiracy all that time. And your divorcing my father had nothing to do with him?"
"It had everything to do with him. But I learned of my brother's ambitions and bided my time until my departure could serve a dual purpose."
"And the Helm of Tongues-did you take it just as father claims?"
"Of course," his mother snapped in exasperation. "The artifact has use to me. Indeed, I have in mind far more practical applications than your father's esoteric research. You might say that it is a key to part of my own little plan."
Tarn wanted to ask other questions, to probe farther into his mother's schemes. For a moment he considered challenging her, but he lacked the will. He was surprised to realize that Garimeth actually frightened him a little. Instinctively he took a step backward.