Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [70]
Kulson sat and shoveled a large spoonful of stew into his mouth before he spoke. “Now that The Grawl isn’t with us, they don’t pay as much attention to what we’re doing.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
Kulson paused for a moment to look up at his superior. Groddenmitersay knew exactly what he was thinking. The bisonbeck wondered if the statement indicated that he and his men had neglected some duty.
They hadn’t, but they failed to see what was right before their eyes. Groddenmitersay glanced over at Verrin Schope’s table and then to the grand parrot, who sat on a perch the innkeeper kept at the bar just for his distinguished guest.
The captain followed his gaze, obviously unaware of the significance of these people. He went back to eating, perhaps chewing on a new idea as he ground beef and cabbage into pulp with his overlarge teeth.
The commander sighed. “Lady Peg’s father is King Yellat. Her husband is a genius, both artistically and in the sciences. Sir Beccaroon is a magistrate from the Indigo Forest. He is also a friend of Verrin Schope, even though they pretend not to be acquainted. If you would read the reports we send you, you would be more aware of the societal structure in Chiril.”
Frustration crossed the soldier’s face. He masked it fairly well, but Groddenmitersay knew the man did not enjoy dry reading. And he had no one in his unit who could intelligently read and summarize the reports.
Kulson despised The Grawl. Therefore, Kulson had been relieved when Groddenmitersay sent The Grawl away. The speatus had no idea that the beast was perhaps the most intelligent of all of Odidoddex’s agents. Groddenmitersay appreciated his intelligence and regarded this tool of war as a volatile entity. Few knew enough about the beast to realize his complexity. No one felt comfortable, not even the commander, in his presence.
“Schope and the bird talk to each other,” Kulson said around a mouthful of food, “but they made it look like they met for the first time here.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure they did. But that is what alerts us to the fact that they are not … Rather, what they appear to be doing is merely a cover for what they are really doing.”
Kulson stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed. Groddenmitersay fought the urge to sigh again. Loudly. Pointedly. The man wouldn’t pick up the cues in any way.
“What does Verrin Schope do?” he asked, hoping to lead his captain carefully to a logical conclusion.
“He paints pictures.”
Before the bisonbeck could load his spoon again, Groddenmitersay fired off another question. “What does he do with the pictures?”
“He sends them to a shop in Ragar.”
“In Ragar? The capital? Where the Amber Palace is?”
Kulson hesitated, then nodded.
“And the king lives in the castle, and the king is his father-in-law, and the king is interested in what we are doing in his country.”
Kulson shook his head and used his spoon to gesture as he made his point. “The king doesn’t know about us. We’ve been very stealthy in our work. My men do a good job. And now that The Grawl isn’t around to stir up curiosity, we don’t attract much notice.”
The commander surveyed the room. Every so often one of the villagers stole a glance at the bisonbeck sitting among the collection of high races. They wouldn’t ban him from eating there, but they didn’t trust him.
Groddenmitersay sent The Grawl “away” because the beast would be more efficient without Kulson and his men. But The Grawl was also unpredictable. He only stayed on a job as long as it satisfied him. Having Kulson reporting on his performance had been necessary as long as the commander had stayed in Baardack.
“During the time I’ve been here,” said Groddenmitersay, “I’ve become suspicious of these three innocent people. I want you to rob the next transport to Ragar and steal the drawings. You will, of course, take other things of value so no one will suspect that it is Schope’s pictures we are after.”
“They’ll know it’s us. We can’t disguise the fact that we’re bisonbecks, and we’re the only bisonbecks in the area.”
Groddenmitersay