The Nether Scroll - Lynn Abbey [102]
"But you can-"
"I said, 'Quiet!'"
Rozt'a grabbed the youth and whispered in his ear. Tiep made a one-step retreat, astonishment written large across his face. With luck, the goblins hadn't figured out they were entertaining a wizard.
Inside the Zhentarim headquarters, the goblins exchanged heated words. Druhallen couldn't be sure if Sheemzher had made allies, but he and Ghistpok weren't the only ones raising their voices. Outhzin and his three peers appeared in the doorway to glower and glare. Each time Dru got a sense of what slaves might have felt when Dekanter's market flourished.
He'd have led Rozt'a and Tiep away, if there'd been anywhere else to go.
At last, Sheemzher emerged, looking grim and without his shirt which had become a turban atop Ghistpok's head. Druhallen expected bad news, but the goblin insisted-
"Sheemzher settle good. All done. Ghistpok not all believe, believe enough-Ghistpok curious. Sheemzher, good sir lead people. Show people slaves, egg. Beast Lord make demons! Yes? People see; people believe. People return, Ghistpok believe. Sheemzher settle good. Make sacrifice, yes? Big feast after sacrifice. Big feast after Ghistpok believe. All people get scroll after big feast. Good sir say, sentience shield. Sheemzher settle good, yes?"
If Druhallen were writing the script, he'd have the Nether scroll and be on his way to Weathercote Wood before Ghistpok's goblins plunged into their feast, but he wasn't writing the script. Dru told the goblin, "Sheemzher settle good, yes," and cringed when he realized he was repeating the goblin's words.
While Ghistpok's elite gathered their spears, Druhallen led Hopper to the charred pit where the goblins prepared their food. No need to ask what they used for fuel, and it wasn't wood. He'd hoped for privacy but had an audience. In a moment or two, the goblins would know what he was.
Dru began by scratching the tip of Hopper's nose. He working his fingers up the side of the gelding's head to his ears. Hopper sighed and rested his chin on Dru's shoulder. Trust never wavered from his brown eyes. One instant there was life, the next-when Dru crushed the kindling ember against bone-life was gone. Hopper's legs buckled; he went down with a dead-weight thud.
Tiep had stationed himself where Druhallen couldn't help but see him once Hopper was on the ground. The youth's expression was confused and unreadable-identical, perhaps, to his own. A month ago, Dru had believed he was a man beyond change; for good or ill, he was the man he'd always be. A week on the Dawn Pass Trail had proved him wrong.
If-When Druhallen left Dekanter, he'd be a different person, and so, too, would Rozt'a and Tiep. He could see the changes already on their faces.
A cold wind blew through Druhallen's thoughts; it whispered Galimer's name. Since Sunderath, Dru had shared everything that mattered with Galimer, even a woman's love, but they wouldn't share Dekanter… or the glade in Weathercote Wood.
If Weathercote changed Galimer as the Greypeaks were changing him-?
Dru realized he could give Wyndyfarh the damned scroll and receive a stranger in return.
The risk had to be taken.
"Let's go," he said, walking away from Hopper's carcass.
He strode toward the main entrance to the Dekanter mines. Tiep caught up first.
"You did what you had to do," the youth said in hushed, thick tones.
Dru said nothing.
"I'm not angry with you anymore."
Dru shook his head. "You've grown up."
"Yeah. I guess."
Rozt'a joined them, Sheemzher, too. The goblin had acquired another spear which he held off-side in his left hand. With his right, he grasped Dru's hand as a child might. Dru endured the sympathy without comment.
The mine entrance was as old as the quarry. It was almost directly below the rim where they'd first looked down on the goblin colony, which was why they hadn't seen it from the High Trail. Like the steps, the entrance had been carved by dwarves and they'd outdone themselves with inscriptions and low-relief portraits. The inscriptions were mostly Dethek runes, but the portraits