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CHAPTER 9

It was midnight at the Wet Wizard tavern. Fueled by a new shipment of Tanagyr's Stout from Zhentil Keep, discussion turned, as it so often did in Llorkh, to Ardeth Chale. Lord's Men, locals, and visiting merchants and their caravan guards all had their say.

"My younger brother played with her as a child. She's a local girl. Taken an odd turn, that's for sure…"

"She does everything Geildarr says, but really she has more power over him than the other way around."

"Word is that she and Royce's band have taken off on one of Geildarr's crazy missions. What's weirdest of all is that Mythkar Leng's gone along with 'em…"

"Word about her has even reached Zhentil Keep. Geildarr thinks of her as his Ashemmi."

"Ardeth is the loveliest thing I've ever seen. What I wouldn't do for a chance to…"

"What annoys me most is the way she exerts her authority over the Lord's Men, without rank or position to justify it."

"Geildarr thinks he owes her everything. Some renegade dwarves would have taken over Llorkh if it weren't for her…"

"A Zhent skymage went off on a mission with her. She came back alone, riding his mount. What does that tell you?"

But all turned to hushed silence when Clavel Foxgray came into the tavern, his cheeks already rosy with drink. The Lord's Men shut up immediately, and the rest followed suit, wondering why.

"Let me guess," said Clavel, sneering. "You were talking about Ardeth."

A half-orc caravan guard snickered and asked, "What's yer beef with her?" Clavel provided the answer.

"A hobgoblin knocked me into the ditch with an axe," Clavel said, leaning against the doorframe to keep his balance. "I can live with that. Somebody would have gotten a rope and let me climb out. Oh, I'd have been laughed at a bit, but I would have laughed, too. Except Ardeth came along and told them to leave me there all night, then demote me. She's no place in the chain of command, but her word is law. So I'm back on the night watch, two years of seniority stripped away by Ardeth's whim. So-" he smirked at the half-orc "-so that's the reason conversations about Ardeth tend to go sour when I walk in."

The assembly in the Wet Wizard was silent as Clavel strode over to the half-orc's table. "That's too bad," Clavel continued. "I have quite a lot to say about her. The big question is this-does anybody know exactly what goes on between her and Geildarr? She lives in the Lord's Keep, does she not? On his floor or somewhere else? Because the image of that fat old slug of a mayor and that lithe demoness turns my stomach like nothing else. Or maybe they deserve each other."

"Clavel," said one of the other Lord's Men. "Perhaps you've had a bit much to drink…"

"Not nearly enough," Clavel slurred. "Like the rest of you-well, any of you who've seen her-I'd very much like to spend a little time in the dark with her. But the difference is, at the end of it, I'd want to sink a dagger into that sweet breast of hers!"

"That's quite enough, Clavel," shouted a Lord's Man, jumping to his feet. He and a companion grasped Clavel by the neck and hauled him out into the street. Sounds of struggling and fighting drifted into the tavern.

Nobody wanted to talk about Ardeth any longer.

* * * * *

Sungar reached around, his hands weak, and rubbed the lash marks along his back. "Kiev never speaks, does he?" he asked, on the off-chance that his neighbor was awake and listening. "He laughs sometimes. Snarls. But I don't think I've ever heard him say a word."

"Maybe he's embarrassed by his voice," said Hurd. "Could be it's high-pitched and squeaky or somethin'."

Sungar laughed. His lungs hurt as he did so, but he was happy; it may have been the first time he laughed since he found himself in this cesspit.

"Or maybe, more likely, he lets his whip speak for him," the dwarf added grimly.

"Are there other inmates of this dungeon?" asked Sungar. "Or is it just the two of us?"

"Probably some in the other wings. Petty criminals, cut-purses, dishonest merchants-people