The Ring of Winter - James Lowder [86]
"You can debate that later, T'fima," Artus said. "Lord Rayburton is in danger right now, and he needs your help."
A tense silence followed, during which T'fima refused to meet anyone's eyes. At last Kwalu said, "We are through here." He gathered up his shield and his weapons, then looked back at the sorcerer. "It would not be a bad thing for you to end your life, Ras T'fima. Then Ubtao could choose a new paladin to replace you, one who would do his duty to Mezro."
Sanda paused before the ras. "Father trusted you. He said you were an honorable man."
"I am," the sorcerer said softly. This time his voice quivered with sadness, not rage. "Lord Rayburton would understand why it has to be this way."
"Well, I don't," Artus said. He took Sanda's arm, and they started toward the door. When he saw Neyobu sitting in the center of the floor, the explorer backed away, bumping into the wooden tabletop. The cat watched him pass, his fangs crimson with the monkey's blood.
Before Artus could leave, T'fima grabbed him. "It's not your place to understand," he hissed. "Just like it's not my place to condemn you for bringing all this down on the city because of some damned ring." He shoved the explorer out the door, slamming it closed behind him.
Kwalu was already at the edge of the clearing when Artus and Sanda got outside. "My father said he would organize a brigade and send them here, but we cannot wait, Sanda. I will leave trail markers, so they can follow us."
The young woman nodded and drew the knife Kwalu had given her. "If we reach the goblin camp while it's still daylight, they'll be sleeping. We can spy on them until the other warriors arrive… unless, of course, an opportunity to rescue Father presents itself."
Both Sanda and Kwalu turned to Artus, as if they expected him to hedge at the prospect. He strolled to the edge of the trail that led deeper into the jungle, "I fought my way out of the camp once. Going to spy on them with you two should be as easy as finding a crooked tax collector in Sembia." At their blank looks, he said, "A hungry dinosaur in a swamp?"
For the first time, Artus saw Kwalu smile. The warrior thumped his spear against his shield. "A dead Batiri near Mezro," he corrected. "So you fought your way out of the goblin camp, eh?"
"It was hardly the stuff of bardic songs," Artus said. "But if you're interested, I'll tell you about it on the way."
Twelve
Skuld pressed both sets of palms together and bowed deeply. "The wards are complete, master. No one else may look into this room with magic."
"Fine," Kaverin said. He resumed his pacing, clacking the knuckles of his jet-black hands together with every third step. At last he turned to Lord Rayburton. "You know, milord, I'm beginning to believe you about the ring."
His hands bound firmly behind his back, his legs lashed securely to the chair, Rayburton didn't bother trying to see his captor's face. Kaverin always paced behind the chair, where he remained hidden. Even in Rayburton's time in Cormyr this had been an old interrogation trick; without being able to read body language or expression, the prisoner could use only his ears to judge anything told to him.
"Then you can let me go," the nobleman said. "Byrt, too."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. Your gray-furred friend is going to be a present to the goblin queen, since the winged spy your fellows killed was technically hers," Kaverin said. He clucked his tongue. "Besides, the goblins are having a victory celebration tonight, and you can't leave before that's over with. They might even serve the talking pig-bear, knowing them. I wonder what he tastes like?"
"Pig-bear!" Byrt exclaimed. "Hardly, sir. I am a wombat. W-O-"
Skuld's silver foot descended onto the top of the cramped wooden cage. "Silence, little one.