The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [138]
The Master of Bats had been laughing-though his mirth had broken off when Craer snatched two bats out of the air with sure hands while drawing level with the open door of the wizard's cell, broke a wing of each before they could bite him, flung them through the doorway, then kicked the door closed with a boom that echoed down the passage.
The rest of the overdukes just kept running, panting past without slowing as that door slammed; they knew Craer would be past them to his usual place at the fore in a few breaths. Up the steps they went, bursting past guards who turned with frowns and lowered glaives in case this clatter of haste meant prisoners loosed, into brightly lit Flowfoam Palace.
"Hold, in the name of the King!" a doorguard bellowed immediately.
"Make way, in the name of the King!" Craer called back, not slowing.
The guard lowered his glaive with a snarl, but the procurer stepped to the left, and then abruptly dodged right and ducked to the floor, under it.
The guard hadn't even managed to frame a curse ere Craer was up again, tugging at the glaive's shaft. His jerk sent the guard staggering forward, off-balance-and into the waiting arms of Hawkril, who tossed the man aside like a doll. Guard struck wall with a loud clang of armor, and it was the guard who bounced, fell, and groaned in pain.
His fellow doorguard flung down his glaive and ran for an alarm-gong. Embra snapped, "Craer!'' in exasperation, and called on the Dwaer to shove the man aside-only to be sent staggering with a shriek of frustration as the other Dwaer-Stone sent her magic right back at her.
Craer whirled and flung a dagger-which flashed like silver fire across the passage and struck the running doorguard's neck, hilt-first, driving the man to the floor in a daze.
The procurer flung open the nearest door, and found himself peering down a narrow flight of stairs that led, judging by smell, to a jakes. He nodded approvingly, dragged the moaning guard to the doorway-and then administered a solid kick to the man's backside. With another groan and a few descending thuds the man disappeared, and Hawkril came striding with the first doorguard and tossed the man gently after the first.
Craer then slammed the door, assumed a casually lounging pose against it, and asked mildly, "Yes, Lady Silvertree? Can I be of service to you in some small way?"
Embra shook her head. "I've been wondering that for over a season now, and not found an answer. Perhaps if 'twere the fashion in Aglirta to hire jesters…"
Tshamarra snorted. "Well said, Lady! Craer, stop playing the fool and snatch us a courtier or senior guard who'll know where Raulin is and take us to him. Now! Get on with it!"
The procurer gave her a pained look. "You know, Lady Talasorn, I do believe that's just what I've been doing for most of this day? Running here, there, and everywhere with the rest of you overdukes puffing along like a lot of fat, flutter-feathered bustards behind me." He turned with a grand gesture of tragic dismissal. "But enough. Wounded by your words, I go!"
And he sprinted off down the passage to where the next pair of guards were waiting, peering warily over leveled glaives and wondering what had befallen their comrades.
"Make way!" Craer called this time, as he ran. "Overdukes of the King command you!"
The guards lifted their glaives, but one of them snapped, "Wherefore?"
"We hunt Serpents!" the procurer snapped back. "Where's the King?"
Their suspicious frowns told Craer all he needed to know, but by then Hawkril had lumbered into view, and the guards gave way before his more familiar-and formidable-figure. One of them even offered, "Ah, Lords, we know not!"
The overdukes ran on through Flowfoam Palace, brushing past startled-looking envoys and courtiers they'd never seen before, in search of someone they knew. The palace was busy in some areas but curiously empty in others, and guards' challenges were fewer than they should have been.
Blackgult was shaking his head in puzzlement by the time they reached