Somehow the ghosts must have heard him because they all nodded sagely.
The city of Wulfgar was founded only a hundred and fifty years earlier. Before that, the land on which Wulfgar stood was a campsite for the native Huitzitlic tribesmen during the winter months. Solamnic Knights garrisoned at the nearby fortress of Qwes warred with those natives, but once peace had been established, they drew up plans for a major settlement. In less than two years, natives and settlers working together erected the mighty walls and sturdy buildings. Initially designed to repel ogres from the south, they proved to be no match for something they had no concept of defending against: an airborne attack by the dragonarmies.
Ten years earlier, when the Red Wing swung out of Neraka and into Nordmaar, the city of Wulfgar was taken completely by surprise. The Solamnic Knights had already lost Qwes to Highlord Phair Caron, and those survivors who limped back to Wulfgar found it occupied by Highmaster Rivven Cairn and the Twelfth Red Dragonarmy, most of whom were kapak draconians and mercenaries from Neraka.
Wulfgar was a mile in diameter, constructed as an almost perfect circle. The palace was in the center, on a raised plateau at least twenty feet above the wide paved streets that surrounded it. Also upon that plateau, accessible to the residents of the city by enormous ramps closed off by gates when not in use, was the Horseman’s Arena. Its proximity to the palace and its central position spoke volumes of its importance to the city’s population before the war. After the occupation, its importance had become twisted into an obsession, and simple horse races and mock battles had become bloody reenactments.
Getting into the city was not going to be the difficult part. Theodenes had a cousin in the Guild of Sewers, Waterways, Reservoirs, and Wells who had liked to talk about his job when they were younger. They’d go underground, even though it meant leaving the dragonne behind. They instructed Star to stay in a cluster of lightly wooded hills a half mile north of the city while they crossed overland to the city walls.
Vanderjack’s cracked ribs slowed their pace. For once, Theodenes’ short legs could easily keep up with the limping sellsword. Yet they reached the walls before the half-light of dawn. Vanderjack heard the sounding of horns and the clatter of horse hooves along the main roads leading into the city, out of sight as they crouched beside the century-old stone.
“I hadn’t counted on this,” said Theodenes, looking down the curving length of the outside wall.
Vanderjack was catching his breath. “Hadn’t counted on what?”
“No outside sewer grates, no reservoirs, nothing.”
“It’s a city; there’s always a sewer grate.”
Theodenes shook his head. “I believe all of the city’s effluent, all of the sewer works and so forth, are inside the walls, directed underneath the city proper.”
“Clever Solamnics,” muttered Vanderjack.
“So either we try the front gates,” said Theo, “or we go over the wall.”
“We’ll be a little conspicuous, won’t we? Mercenary and gnome.”
Theodenes stroked his beard. “Then we do both.”
Vanderjack looked at him. “We split up?”
Theodenes nodded. “I scale the walls. It will be a simple matter for me, especially with my mountaineering skills and well-honed physical prowess. You go around to one of the gates and find a way in. I suggest the west gate because it leads straight into the merchants’ quarter.”
“Sure. Nobody will notice a tall black bloody-nosed guy in an arming doublet tripping over himself.” He paused. “And we’re meeting where? And you know all of this local geography how?”
Theodenes sniffed. “Because I make it my business to know about my areas of operation. Now let’s see. We want to attend the chariot race because that’s where Cazuvel is most likely to reveal himself. Correct?”
“That’s right. Hopefully, he’ll reveal himself, Gredchen, the painting, my sword, and anything else worth revealing.”
“Then we should meet at the Alochtlixan Fields.” Vanderjack gingerly pressed around his nose with a cloth to make sure he hadn’t just started bleeding again.
“The where?”
“All of the equine specialists, representatives from the stabling yards, practice tracks, chariot builders, and those trained in animal husbandry frequent the Alochtlixan Fields, which are in the southeastern quarter of Wulfgar. Famous place.”
“Carrying a copy of Bertrem’s Guide, are you?”
“I most certainly am not. Bertrem’s Guide is notoriously unreliable. Might as well have a kender map. How does midday sound to you? When the sun is overhead?”
“How long is it until the games in the arena?”
“They begin midafternoon. We shall have more than enough time, assuming you are not caught or captured.”
Vanderjack grinned. “Now how often does that happen?”
Theodenes gave him an icy stare, and the sellsword laughed and sauntered off, not feeling as confident as he acted. The ground seemed to lurch beneath him; he was still feeling wobbly and weak. He was on an important rescue mission, he reminded himself. Lives and riches hung in the balance. Somehow he would have to get the job done.
Theodenes dropped to the ground on the other side of the city walls and looked around for a long stick.
Losing his multifunction polearm had been a blow, but he should be able to construct a new one. All he required was a little time and some materials, most of which he’d be able to scrounge together in any large and well-stocked city. He suspected Wulfgar was just a little too backwater for that, and there was not time for tinkering there anyway. It was a shame, he thought, so he would have to improvise.
In place of the polearm, Theo settled on a pitchfork. He pulled it free from a bale of hay, one of hundreds of hay bales stacked against the inside of the walls of the city. Theodenes also thought to snatch up a wide-brimmed hat from atop a sleeping local. With that and a poncho he tugged down from a nearby drying rack, he had the makings of a disguise. Of course, he was half the height of any other Nordmmaaran peasant, but he supposed if he hid his face and walked about as if he belonged, nobody would be the wiser.
The part of the city he was in was something of a residential district. It wasn’t the famed Solamnic Quarter, at that time almost completely turned over to the dragonarmies, and it wasn’t the Warriors’ Quarter, where the legendary Plumed Jaguars of Wulfgar would be carousing if the highmaster hadn’t driven them all from the city. The dilapidated single-story dwellings around him were more common in the city, which had been almost burned to the ground at the opening of the war.
He rounded a corner and saw, at the end of a wide street crusted with muddy clay, horse droppings, and straw, the wooden fences that divided the Alochtlixan Fields off from the city. Good. He was close to his destination, but glancing up at the sun, he saw that he had at least an hour in which to investigate the city further, so he made a mental note of his surroundings and headed due west.
The palace of the khan rose majestically above the streets; between it and Theo was the high-walled Horseman’s Arena itself. Theodenes crossed over the paved avenue leading directly from the south gate to the foot of the arena’s entrance ramp. Dragonarmy soldiers lined the street, most of them looking as though they needed only slight provocation to take a swing with their weapons. Here and there, Theo saw pairs of kapak and baaz draconians. As he recalled, they were expensive for the highmaster to keep stationed there. Where once she would have boasted whole brigades of kapaks, baaz, and even bozaks, nowadays she was scraping the bottom of the coffers.
His thoughts were interrupted by the commands of a heavily armored dragonarmy officer who shouted out to the pint-sized peasant from the opposite side of the street. The officer was accompanied by two thugs, Theo noted.