Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [67]
For an instant, Kitiara paled, holding the wine glass to her lips. Then she set it down untouched, her hand shaking slightly. “It is not pleasant,” she said briefly. Glancing around, she asked, “What have you done with Garibanus?”
Tossing off the glass of wine, Ariakas gestured negligently. “I left him … at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Dead?” Kitiara questioned, pouring the Highlord another glass.
Ariakas scowled. “Perhaps. He got in my way. Does it matter?”
“I found him … entertaining,” Kitiara said. “He filled Bakaris’s place in more than one respect.”
“Bakaris, yes.” Lord Ariakas drank another glass. “So your commander managed to get himself captured as your armies went down to defeat!”
“He was an imbecile,” Kitiara said coldly. “He tried riding dragonback, even though he is still crippled.”
“I heard. What happened to his arm?”
“The elfwoman shot him with an arrow at the High Clerist’s Tower. It was his own fault, and he now has paid for it. I had removed him from command, making him my bodyguard. But he insisted on trying to redeem himself.”
“You don’t appear to be mourning his loss,” Ariakas said, eyeing Kitiara. The dressing gown, tied together only by two ribbons at the neck, did little to cover her lithe body.
Kit smiled. “No, Garibanus is … quite a good replacement. I hope you haven’t killed him. It will be a bother getting someone else to go to Kalaman tomorrow.”
“What are you doing at Kalaman—preparing to surrender to the elfwoman and the knights?” Lord Ariakas asked bitterly, his anger returning with the wine.
“No,” Kitiara said. Sitting down in a chair opposite Ariakas, she regarded him coolly. “I’m preparing to accept their surrender.”
“Ha!” Ariakas snorted. “They’re not insane. They know they’re winning. And they’re right!” His face flushed. Picking up the carafe, he emptied it into his glass.
“You owe your death knight your life, Kitiara. Tonight at least. But he won’t be around you forever.”
“My plans are succeeding much better than I had hoped,” Kitiara replied smoothly, not in the least disconcerted by Ariakas’s flickering eyes. “If I fooled you, my lord, I have no doubt that I have fooled the enemy.”
“And how have you fooled me, Kitiara?” Ariakas asked with lethal calm. “Do you mean to say that you are not losing on all fronts? That you are not being driven from Solamnia? That the dragonlances and the good dragons have not brought about ignominious defeat?” His voice rose with each word.
“They have not!” Kitiara snapped, her brown eyes flashing. Leaning across the table, she caught hold of Ariakas’s hand as he was about to raise the wine glass to his lips. “As for the good dragons, my lord, my spies tell me their return was due to an elflord and a silver dragon breaking into the temple at Sanction where they discovered what was happening to the good dragon eggs. Whose fault was that? Who slipped up there? Guarding that temple was your responsibility—”
Furiously, Ariakas wrenched his hand free of Kitiara’s grip. Hurling the wine glass across the room, he stood and faced her.
“By the gods, you go too far!” he shouted, breathing heavily.
“Quit posturing,” Kitiara said. Coolly rising to her feet, she turned and walked across the room. “Follow me to my war room, and I will explain my plans.”
Ariakas stared down at the map of northern Ansalon. “It might work,” he admitted.
“Of course, it will work,” Kit said, yawning and stretching languidly. “My troops have run before them like frightened rabbits. Too bad the knights weren’t astute enough to notice that we always drifted southward, and they never wondered why my forces just seemed to melt away and vanish. Even as we speak, my armies are gathering in a sheltered valley south of these mountains. Within a week, an army several thousand strong will be ready to march on Kalaman. The loss of their ‘Golden General’ will destroy their morale. The city will probably capitulate without a fight. From there,