"Who goes there?" Gunthar asked.
"Oh, Lord Gunthar, it's you," the figure answered in apparent relief. It stepped forward where the light was better, but Millisant's snarls brought him to a stop. "It's Tohr," he said from the half-shadows.
"Lord Tohr, what brings you out here? I thought you had retired for the evening," Gunthar said.
"Am I not free to go where I please, Lord Gunthar?" Tohr asked.
"Yes, yes, of course you are," Gunthar apologized. "Millisant, heel." Slowly, the hound retreated to his side, and he scratched her behind the ears to calm her.
Tohr stepped into the light but stood with one hand still behind his back. "It's a fine night," he commented as he looked up at the stars. "We don't often see such clear nights in Neraka."
"It's the forest," Gunthar said. "It filters out all the bad, leaving everything clean and new." He sighed. "I have often wondered what it is like in Neraka. I always imagine it to be a dark place, the sky heavy with reeking smoke, dragons gliding watchfully overhead… ."
"It's only a city now," Tohr said. "Not really that different than any other city. But we don't often see the stars there. It is so quiet here, so peaceful," Tohr sighed. "In Neraka, our supreme leader, Lady Mirielle Abrena, requires constant vigilance, constant training. The streets tremble from the boots of marching feet."
"What is she like?" Gunthar asked.
"Lady Mirielle? She is much like you, my lord Gunthar. Her heart and soul is the Knighthood. It is her life," Tohr said. He smiled. "She was very surprised to receive your letter offering to join our two orders. She was considering sending you just such a proposal herself."
"Really!" Gunthar said with some surprise. "Then why did she wait two years to respond?"
"Like yourself, she had many prejudices to overcome before making such a move. I must admit, when first she told me of her plans, I had my doubts," Tohr said.
"It is difficult for either side to trust the other," Gunthar commented.
"Very difficult," Tohr said.
He turned and leaned against the crenelated wall, looking out over the dark forest. As he did so, he moved his hand to his side.
"What have you got there?" Gunthar asked, no longer able to control his curiosity and his feeling that he'd caught Tohr doing something.
"Where?" Tohr asked.
"In your hand there."
"Oh, this?" he produced the folded scrap of paper. "This… this is nothing. A note someone sent me."
"You'll forgive me, Lord Tohr, but I must ask to see it," Gunthar said.
Reluctantly, Tohr handed over the scrap. Gunthar took it and stepped closer to one of the still-burning torches. With a quick glance at the leader of the Knights of Takhisis, he opened it and quickly read:
Abandon this foolish notion and leave this land, or you and all your Knights will suffer the consequences.
The unsigned note seemed hastily scrawled on a blank page torn from the back of a book. He held the paper up to the light and saw the watermark of a publisher in Kalaman. He examined the handwriting, but it bore no unusual qualities or identifying style. It could have been written by anyone. Angrily, Gunthar crushed the paper in his fist.
"Where did this come from?" he asked.
"I found it… affixed to my pillow with a dagger, when I retired to my room," Tohr said. "Here is the dagger." He produced a small stiletto from his belt.
Gunthar took the weapon in his trembling hand. "This is one of my daggers. I thought I'd lost it." Gunthar's head sank wearily, and he sighed deeply, as though the weight of all Krynn lay upon his shoulders.
"Lord Tohr, I must apologize for mistrusting you," he said. "Truly, you have shown yourself an honorable man by trying to conceal this from me."
"Really, Lord Gunthar, it is nothing; probably the idle threat of some young Knight who'd had too much wine tonight," Tohr said. "Their prejudices will change with time and understanding."
"This is the act of a coward, and I won't allow it. The culprit must be found and punished," Gunthar swore as he tucked the note under his belt.
"Our Knights are young, Lord Gunthar, like fiery young stallions. We must give them loose reins or risk breaking their spirits. There is no need to let one idle voice stir up more suspicion and mistrust than already exists," Tohr urged.
Gunthar smiled. "I see we think alike," he said. "But still, I've been too lenient with them of late. This note is proof of that. Something must be done."
"Only, I beg you, wait a while. Allow time for our Knights to get to know each other, for the barriers of prejudice to lower a bit," Tohr asked.
Gunthar stiffened his back and jutted out his chin. "Very well, then. I will take your advice. I won't mention this until after the hunt." He grinned broadly and grasped Lord Tohr's shoulder. "Come, my friend. I was just returning this young lady to her kennels. Would you like to see my other hounds?"
"Of course," Tohr said, bowing. "Truly, they are the finest of their kind that I've ever seen."
Tohr and Gunthar continued along the battlements, followed closely by Millisant. "They are my pride and joy," Gunthar beamed as he turned onto the narrow stair leading down into the stable yard. "You shall meet the greatest of my hounds, a hero among boar hounds, the great Garr. Always in the past, we've never been able to properly hunt Mannjaeger because we never had the proper dog. But Garr is the one. He shall bring Mannjaeger to bay!"
In his excitement, Gunthar tried to turn to see his guest's reaction and missed a step. He slipped, teetering over a forty foot drop to the stone courtyard below. Tohr's arm shot out and caught the Grand Master by the swordbelt, dragging him to safety. Together, they leaned against the inner wall, and Gunthar clasped the younger, stronger Knight to his breast, his old heart beating wildly.
"Thank you, my friend," he gasped.
"Lord Gunthar, if this was a test of my good intentions, you could have waited until we reached the lower steps," Tohr joked as he helped Gunthar regain his balance. "I am… uncomfortable with heights."
After catching his breath, Gunthar continued down the stairs, more carefully this time and without turning as he talked. Behind them, Millisant awkwardly negotiated the steps. Gunthar explained in some detail the pedigree of Garr, of the bear and boar and deer he had run, and his hopes for the hound's success in the next hunt. They crossed the stable yard, nodding to a couple of retainers they found playing a game of dice outside the door to the kennels.
"We found a stray in the banquet hall," Gunthar said to them in greeting. "She wants back with her fellows."
"Yes, milord," the retainers said as they rose and opened the door. A fetid odor of warm dog and gully dwarf wafted out. One of the retainers took a torch from a sconce and stepped inside, leading the way.
"Did you two get plenty to eat tonight, Fawkes?" Gunthar asked the elder retainer.
"Most certainly, milord," he answered, contentedly patting his belly. "Come on in here, Millisant my lass." The hound trotted inside.
The kennels was a close, dark, low-roofed room that seemed to stretch catacomb-like into the shadows. But unlike a catacomb, the air was warm and dry, if exceedingly ripe with the strong seedy odors of hounds and gully dwarves. The stone floor was strewn with straw, rinds, and well-chewed bones. Most of the hounds slept in a great pile in the center of the chamber, with here and there a small, thick-toed foot or stubby-fingered hand sticking out, twitching in some gully dwarf dream, but off to the side, near the wall, lay curled a hound of enormous size. As Gunthar, Lord Tohr, and the retainer entered, he raised his great head from the floor and blinked at them sleepily with his brown eyes. Millisant trotted over to him, her whole body wagging, and rolled over on her back before him, exposing the lighter gray fur of her underbelly. She licked Garr's face, washing his chin whiskers, and he accepted the attentions of the packling with noble patience.