Lord Toede (22 page)

doing?“ Rogate snarled. Taywin shook her shorn head. Bunniswot answered, ”You know how
once I told you about Renders's histories, the ones that called you a fop and fool and a
bumbler?“ Rogate started to snarl again, so Bunniswot quickly added, ”In a moment of light
jest.“ Toede nodded, an eye cast toward his new knight. ”In a moment of light jest, I
remember.“ It might be interesting having a follower with the protective nature of an
attack dog. ”Well, Groag makes you look like wise king Lorac of the Silvanesti,“ Bunniswot
said. Toede leaned back against the wall and whistled. ”That bad?“ ”Corruption, despotism,
whimsical rulings, oppression,“ said Bunniswot, ticking off his fingers. ”Nothing new
there,“ said Toede, then added quickly for Rogate's benefit, ”That's par for the course in
half a dozen cities throughout Ansalon.“ ”Summary executions,“ said Bunniswot. ”Part of
any ruler's rights,“ said Toede. ”Without hearing, involving torture, and in public,“
sighed Bunniswot. ”The bodies displayed on the gibbets for crows.“ Toede winced. ”A little
too much of a good thing. And was the population recalcitrant, to earn such heavy-handed
responses?“ Bunniswot shook his head. ”Not before. They are now.“ ”I suddenly understand
why your... ah... my book on government is so popular,“ said Toede. Bunniswot nodded.
”Some inhabitants fled, and many merchants avoid the city now. Groag used to threaten the
populace in your name, now he just threatens them period. He has hired small armies of
mercenaries to protect him and his court. Nonhumans are banned once again. Other
nonhumans, that is.“ Taywin broke in. ”We had heard about the new Lord of Flotsam from
refugees around the time we found our hunting grounds being patrolled by hired swords. I
went to Flotsam to see if it was the same Mister Groag that I had picked berries with.“
She touched her scalp. ”It was. He had me arrested for poaching, my head shaved publicly,
and my execution scheduled for the next day.“ ”Unfortunately, the paperwork was lost,“
said the scholar innocently. ”So we ferreted her out of town in a flour barrel. We hooked
up with Rogate here, who had moved in with the kender.“ ”We thought you'd be returning
again,“ said Taywin. ”In six months, as before. So in between we organized our resources
and arranged to keep an eye out for you.“ ”Now that you have returned,“ intoned Rogate,
”the Allied Rebellion can move forward and crush the spine of the false minion, and spill
the blood of his corruption on the sands of history!“ ”We arranged for a meeting,“
Bunniswot added, ”with the leader of the kender: Kronin, Taywin's father. With you present
we can convince him to join us, and with his approval, the kender raiders will swell our
rebellion.“ ”Uh-huh,“ said Toede. He looked at the others, then said, ”And tell me,
exactly, how many people do we currently have in this rebellion I am leading?“ Taywin said
brightly, her eyes shining with hope, ”Including you, me, Bunniswot, Sir Rogate, and Miles
... that makes five."

The moot is met, during which Our Protagonist shows both his mettle and his metal in
matters diplomatic and domestic.

The moot that Taywin had mentioned was another name for a big kender party, and the
planning for said party had been bubbling and ebbing for days. The last of the winter
stores (mostly salted trout and grape preserves) were being plundered, along with the
standard complement of goose, boar, and a delicacy that had eluded Toede
previouslyhedgehogs wrapped in mud and roasted in their own shells.

Toede watched the geese roasting over the fire and thought of Groag, curled up in his
manor (meaning Toede's manor), seated at a table heavily laden with culinary treasures and
surrounded on all sides by fawning sycophants. He could imagine that, but equally he could
imagine the new lord of Flotsam tightly curled up in his bed, eyeing the darkness
nervously, unable to sleep, jumping at every noise. From what the others had described, it
sounded as though the city had fallen on hard times indeed under Groag's rule. There was
little there to attract Toede, unless he put Groag's death high on his “to-do” list.
Groag's death was on his list, but not in the top ten, to be honest. After all, the drive
to claim his vaunted lordship had several times resulted in an unpleasant death. Toede
might have a learning curve verging on a flat line, but he did connect Flotsam with messy,
bloody deaths (usually his). Toede thought of Groag, and his drunken palate wrapped around
the word: a-dap-tive. The problem was that his compatriotspornographer, poetess, nut-case,
and guardwere intent on helping him regain this flawed gem, this dead dog of a city, and
did not care to take no for an answer. Particularly the nutcase, who, Toede was sure,
would get agitated should the target of his fervor prove less than excited about the
prospect of reclaiming his historical throne. Rogate the nut-case was wrapped up in some
kind of fantasy version of justice. Taywin was in it for revenge and retribution.
Bunniswot apparently considered this some great adventure, like those accursed Heroes of
the Lance. And Miles? Toede looked at the kender guard, who hovered close by him at all
times. Miles beamed back at him with a gap-toothed grin, and Toede smiled weakly. Miles?
Well, someone in every revolution has to do the heavy lifting, make the tea, pass out the
leaflets, and make sure the hero of the rebellionin this case, Toededoesn't head for the
hills. Tomorrow, he would have to face Kronin. Toede winced to think of the kender leader,
and wondered how Kronin felt about him. After all, it was Toede who had ordered Kronin and
another kender shackled and chased on that disastrous hunt, on the last day of his first
life. And even though the kender elder seemed to have a mind like a steel sieve, the pair
of them had run rings around Toede and his hunting party, right up to the point when Toede
confronted the fire-breathing end of an angry dragon. And died. Perhaps Kronin was setting
Toede up. Perhaps the kender leader intended to shackle him to a boulder and give him a
fifteen-minute head start before setting the hounds loose. Toede rubbed his chin at the
thought. The kender were little more than savages, and Kronin could be holding a grudge.
Then again, so could Toede. It wouldn't hurt to pack a little extra precaution. The
present kender camp was located near the spot where Groag and he had plunged into the
river almost a year ago. Most of the huts had been erected far from the water, and the
intended moot-site was among the taller trees that overlooked the berry patches. Toede
wandered back to his hut, his guardian in tow. Miles stopped at the entrance while Toede
ducked in and searched through his meager belongings. Taking the sword was out of the
question, unfortunately, but the dagger would be just fine. Nicely weighted, it would
suitable both for throwing and for use in tight combat, while the blade was fine enough to
slip between the ribs of an opponent, be he human or kender. Perfect precaution, thought
Toede, slipping it into the oversized dwarven boots he had been wearing for a year (Krynn
time). Or maybe more than just precaution. Given an opportunity, perhaps he would extract
a little vengeance on his own. Kronin had caused his death, after all. The first of many,
and the beginning of all his troubles. Not that Kronin would be alone on his list of
vengeance. Groag had suggested that ill-fated hunt,

after all. And Miles had been all too quick to strike him down, earlier. Toede realized he
would have to keep expanding the list as he went along, but Kronin, Groag, and Miles would
do for now. There was a knock, and Taywin stuck her head in, looking like a shaved
chipmunk. “We're starting! Come on!” Toede smiled and walked out of the hut to join the
others, limping only slightly from the additional weight in his boot. A kender moot, or at
least this kender moot, differed from most regular kender festivals chiefly in that during
the moot there were tables set up. They weren't much in the way of tables, in that they
were only a foot off the ground, and the kender had to sit or kneel on the hard-packed
earth, but at least they kept the food within a set boundary. Already several of the
revelers were using the tables as impromptu dance platforms. Toede identified two polkas
and a reel, dancers bouncing between tables and sending dishware and bits of the feast in
all directions. Typical kender behavior, Toede thought. There were already several
makeshift song groups warming up, Toede noted, including not a few rehearsing ribald
choruses regarding the social habits of elves. A white-haired kender elder, his hair spun
into an elaborate braid that ran to the small of his back, was leading two tables in a
call-and- respond contest. The lyrics of this drinking song shot from one table to the
other like a shuttlecock. Those at the first table would shout “Oly-Oly-Oly-Ay!” and those
at the second table would respond “Oly-Oly-Oly-Ay!”. Then the first group would shout
“Aley-Aley-Aley-O!” and the second group “Aley-Aley-Aley-O!” The kender at both tables
would spend the time between responses drinking as quickly and as much as they could. This
continued until both sides passed out. Toede suddenly understood why Taywin's poetry might
be considered sophisticated among these people. Then again, so might limericks about the
Dark Queen's consorts. Miles escorted Toede to the main table, situated on a patch of
earth slightly higher than the rest, with a wall of woven grass behind it to frame the
utmost important personages at the feast. These personages were Kronin's cronies, and in
this case, leaders of the rebellion. Miles was on the end, then Rogate and Bunniswot (both
looking terribly uncomfortable and oversized). Then Toede, seated in the place of honor on
Kronin's right. Then Taywin on his left, along with a pack of kender politicosclan leaders
and the like. The entire group was seated on one side of the table looking out over the
assembled tribes. Just what Toede had in mind for a pleasant evening watching a hundred
kender gorge themselves. As Toede was duly escorted to his place of honor, Kro-nin rose to
greet him. The kender leader always reminded Toede of a white-tufted squirrel, his
childlike but ancient face looking as though it had walnuts stored in its cheeks. Toede
pulled out his all-purpose let's-be-nice-to-the-local-ruling- class smile and warmly took
the kender's extended hand. “It is good to see you again, Toede,” said Kronin. “And you as
well,” beamed Toede. “Especially under such pleasant circumstances.” “More pleasant than
last time, eh?” joshed Kronin, elbowing Toede in the ribs. The hobgoblin had to fight with
all his willpower to avoid pulling the dagger and stabbing the cheery little freak right
where he stood. Instead he said, “At least the food is better.” “It should be,” smiled the
elder kender. “It came from your forest.” “It's not my forest,” smiled Toede, adding,
“Anymore.” But he added silently, At the moment. Toede looked for some clue behind
Kronin's eyes, some telltale glint that this moot was in fact a ruse, a trap, or a
stratagem. Yet if there was revenge in Kronin's heart, it was carefully concealed, for
Toede could discern no apparent clue. This worried him further. Toede remained standing as
Kronin motioned for the kender horde to quiet down. “Welcome to the moot, all the clans of
kenderdom!” There was polite applause. Someone yelled 'Toast!"

Kronin continued without pause. “I want to thank all and sundry for coming on this festive
occasion, in particular our human guests.” Rogate and Bunniswot nodded to general
clapping. “Especially our honored guest, the Highmaster-in-Exile of Flotsam, Lord Toede.”
Toede nodded to decidedly less applause, and there was another shout for “Toast!” “His
highmastership spent a few brief days with us almost a year ago,” Kronin added, “and was
responsible for saving the life of my lovely daughter.” More applause, though this was
mostly for Taywin, who waved at the assemblage. Kronin motioned to Toede that now he was
expected to utter a few words. The hobgoblin cleared his voice. “My only regret is that I
was not here long enough in days of yore to get to know every one of you wonderful
kender.” Greater applause to this compliment, and Toede sat back down, thinking, And I
further regret not having a team of talented torturers with me at the time. During Toede's
small speech, Kronin rescued from the table a wooden goblet that he now held aloft. “I
give you the first toast of the evening.” There was wild applause, and Kronin looked
pensive, as if summoning some ghost of a memory. Then he proclaimed, “Drink deep the cup
of life, for time will sup it if you do not.” It was an appropriate toast, and there were
cheers and the clinking of mugs. Kronin turned to the hobgoblin, clacking goblets with
him. Toede nodded politely. “A good toast,” he said. Kronin smiled. “It should be, you
wrote it.” Toede's smile froze for an instant. Then he said smoothly, 'True, but you seem
to have caught the nuance of the passage perfectly. I have never heard it recited better.“
He added the mental note that, until he himself had read the dratted thing, he had best
assume that every smutty or hedonistic statement uttered around him was a quote from his
supposed book. Kronin did not seem to notice Toede's tightened facial muscles. ”When I
first read the book, I couldn't believe you were responsible for it. It's so ... deep.
Thoughtful. Intelligent.“ Toede tried to unclench his teeth. ”Surprised?“ he asked.
”Very,“ responded Kronin, ignoring the color crawling into Toede's face. ”I mean, in our
limited dealings, you struck me as a bully, a lout, and a simpleton. No offense meant.“
”None taken,“ said Toede, aware of the drag of the dagger in his boot. ”And yet, such
clear, precise thinking, masking itself in sensual analogy . . .“ Kronin shook his head.
”It only makes me wonder why you didn't put such thoughts into action earlier, before you
got yourself killed.“ ”Retirement gives an opportunity for reflection,“ smiled Toede.
”Exactly my conclusion!“ said Kronin. ”I would no more think of you saying such things, or
even sitting down here with us, than I could imagine a badger singing sopera. This only
confirms a personal theory I have about your tyrannical rule.“ ”Oh?“ said Toede. ”Your
heart wasn't in it,“ concluded the kender elder, slapping the table. ”You could not
reconcile your own conscionable beliefs with the dragon highlords who created your
position and supported your regime. So as a result, you sought to appear as the bumbling,
hedonistic, groveling petty tyrant that everyone thought you were. Whereas, in reality,
you were the very opposite.“ There was another call for a toast. Kronin rose to address
the crowd. That does it, Toede thought. I'm going to kill him. This time for sure. The
only question is when. A true smile blossomed on his sallow face. Kronin made another
suggestive toast involving blossom petals and honey, and sat back down. Toede took a pull
from his cup and enjoyed the pleasant cranberry wine, very potent. ”You're going to quote
me all night?“ chided Toede. ”Your words are honest and brave,“ said Kronin, ”unlike the
public facade you presented to the world. My daughter has always been sympathetic to you,
but I fear I could not see behind the mean- spirited boot-spittle lackey image you showed
to the outside world. I mean, is it true you once went drinking with Raistlin, and that he
was almost left behind by the Companions as a result?" As the evening continued in a
similar vein, Kronin's tongue became looser, his prose more direct and explicit,
particularly as to how the new Toede was far superior to that gutless, inbred, despotic

little excuse for a sliver-of-worm-larva that he had been when he was in charge of
Flotsam. All of these insults were delivered with a glib smile, and an assurance that the
kender leader knew that Toede was much better now. Kronin's opinion of Groag was even
worse, but only in the matter of degree. At one point the kender was saying how Groag was
more Toedelike than Toede had ever been, when the elderly kender's conversation took a
turn, and he mentioned the loss of his daughter's lovely locks. It was an off- hand
reference to Groag's senseless cruelty, but it halted Kronin in his conversational tracks.
The old kender grew quiet, and Toede could almost hear his old kender heart breaking.

Then the moment passed, and Kronin resumed his detailed comparison of Toede and Groag.
Toede felt his blood pressure climbing. The worst thing that could happen, thought the
hobgoblin as the kender nattered on, would be for him to die again. At the hands of kender
it would take a while, because they wouldn't know how to proceed properly and would
probably talk him to death.

Five more toasts and an hour of comparative comments later, Toede's head was aching, both
from the conversation and the wine. Kronin interrupted his fourth analysis of Toede's
first death to stagger to his feet and gesture to the increasingly rambunctious crowd.
“You have heard many toasts this evening,” he slurred, “all from the mind of this
incredible individual known as Toede.” There was drunken and thunderous applause at this
point, with the by-now-woozy Toede convinced they had forgotten who they were cheering
for. The inner rage at pompous Kronin, foolish Taywin, the kender rabble, their stupid
songs and their excessive eating habits, had pushed him to the boiling point. It wouldn't
take much more to push him over the edge.