The Trials of Caste (16 page)

The chief bodyguard nodded.  “Aye.”

Looking about one more time, Mynar the Sorcerer
followed the chief bodyguard toward the Lord’s House.

Khee-lar Shadow Hand hurried along the various passageways,
some of them natural lava flow tubes while others had been carved with magic or
with picks by kobolds of generations now past.  His destination was the gen’s
great council chamber; the seat of power for the gen’s lord and council that he
was intent on making his own before long.  Behind him trailed a handful of his
own warriors to serve as a bodyguard, and to scout out the chamber before he
arrived.  He had been careful to work through intermediaries in most of this plot,
but Trelkar’s uncharacteristically impetuous move of sending Krobo off with a
dagger to kill Lord Karthan had put everything at risk. 

He shook his head as he walked along a trail
through a larger cavern, one that was worn particularly smooth.  He had not
actually wanted a move made against Lord Karthan yet; he thought he’d made that
clear.  But obviously Trelkar had not seen the poison plot for what it was; a
deception to make Mynar think that the Covenant was moving against Lord
Karthan.  He didn’t actually want Krobo to kill the Lord of the Gen, not yet
anyway.  There was more strength to be gathered before Khee-lar could be sure
he’d come out on top in the chaos that would ensue afterward, after all.

When the poison somehow got lost, however, things
got confused.  Somehow Trelkar didn’t get the poison, and somehow the decoy
powder they had prepared for Krobo had not ended up with Krobo.  He’d ended up
with a bag of spiced shelf fungus instead!

Khee-lar muttered his frustration.  It was either
a rare bout of incompetence on Trelkar’s part, or somehow Mynar had seen
through the delaying tactic and taken the spores…  But if he had, then why? 
After all, it was Mynar who had not wanted to wait to move against Lord
Karthan.

Khee-lar again shook his head.  For a moment he
thought he might be to blame.  After all, he’d never actually
told
Trelkar that Krobo’s errand was meant to fail, and fail quietly.  As quick as
the thought came, however, Khee-lar dismissed it.  “Trelkar should have known,”
he muttered to himself, angrily shifting blame to his second as he ducked into
a rough-hewn passageway on the far side of the cavern they were traversing.  He
was putting the entire plan at risk, and if Khazak Mail Fist rolled up Trelkar
he would almost certainly point the finger at Khee-lar himself.  “That won’t
do,” he mumbled.  “That won’t do at all.”  And in his hardened heart, he knew
that Trelkar was a vulnerability that he couldn’t afford right now, he had
insulated himself well enough from this whole plot, except in the case of
Trelkar, so in the end he knew what must be done; he would not go down with
Trelkar.  No, Trelkar would leave the gen shortly, before Khazak Mail Fist had
the opportunity to bring him in.  Now that he had decided, he felt better about
the whole thing; yes, it had to be done.

As his anger began to settle down, Khee-lar’s
frustration began to settle as well.  He couldn’t help but think of the
futility of sending Krobo to kill Lord Karthan with a dagger.  Honestly, he
doubted the old fool would have the stomach to actually do it, when it came
down to it.  What was Trelkar thinking?  Still, he brought a strong bodyguard
just in case he was wrong about Krobo, and in case Trelkar wasn’t enough of a
target for Khazak and his lackeys.

And where was Mynar the Sorcerer in all this? 
He’d left the Deep Guard’s caverns last evening and hadn’t been seen since. 
That could not bode well.  Khee-lar was beginning to suspect that he would have
to deal with Mynar in a more permanent fashion and find some other way to get
the Kale Stone.  If only that Krall Stone Mynar carried could be used by
someone
else
to locate the Kale Stone, someone of Kale heritage…

As he emerged from the passageway into a large
common chamber not far from the council chamber and the Leaders’ Grotto,
Khee-lar was surprised to see a pair of Honor Guard warriors standing guard at
the far end.

Walking up to them as if nothing were the matter,
Khee-lar recognized one of them as Lord Karthan’s chief elite warrior.

“Well, strange seeing you here, Chief” Khee-lar
began, his retinue of warriors tightening up their formation behind him.  “I
would have thought you’d be in the council chamber already.”

The grizzled veteran warrior’s face was an
emotionless mask.  “Sire, we found Krobo with a dagger and a jar of poison, and
we believe he was intent on killing Lord Karthan.  You wouldn’t know anything
about that, now would you?”

Khee-lar looked deliberately shocked.  “Well,
isn’t that unfortunate.  Glad to hear he was found out before he could do any
damage!”  Inside, he was cursing Trelkar’s ill-advised move yet again, but felt
reassured that Khazak and his lackeys didn’t have the evidence they needed to
implicate him personally.  After all, if they did Lord Karthan’s chief elite
warrior would not be bandying words with him right now; the impetuous old
warrior would have pulled his sword already.

The chief elite warrior was non-plussed by
Khee-lar’s almost flippant answer.  “We have reason to believe that Trelkar put
Krobo up to it.  Do you have any idea why he would do that?”

Khee-lar Shadow Hand chuckled.  “You’d have to ask
Trelkar about that, I would imagine.  But I can’t think it’s anything more than
the imaginations of a deranged old servant’s mind.  What would Trelkar have to
do with that crazy old servant caste, anyway?  He’s a member of Lord Karthan’s
house staff, not the Deep Guard.”

The old veteran was not amused.  “Look, Khee-lar,”
he said forcefully, deliberately not using any title of respect.  “We know
Krobo has been spending a lot of time with a female named Jezmya down in your
warrior group, as do you.  We also know that Trelkar has been dealing in
poison.  You know what I’m talking about.  We’re on to your chief, and it won’t
be long before we have the proof we need to take you down as well.”

“Enough of this silliness, lackey.”  Khee-lar waved
dismissively at the veteran warrior.  “You challenge my honor, as if you had a
right to.  Remember your station.  I am a leader caste and you’re still only an
elite warrior.  Know your place!”  With that, Khee-lar and the rest of his
retinue walked past the pair of guards.

Not far into the passage, Khee-lar turned to one
of his bodyguards.  “Go.  Tell Trelkar that Krobo’s been taken, and that
somehow he had acquired more poison.  Tell him that this may work to our
advantage.  Go and tell Trelkar to prepare his group to follow Lord Karthan’s
‘package,’ and to leave the gen now, if he wants to keep his head.”

“The ‘package’ sire?”

“He’ll know what I mean.  Just tell him,” Khee-lar
answered.  “Oh,” he stopped the warrior as he was about to leave, “and tell him
I don’t know how Krobo got more poison, but I can only suspect either Spider or
somehow Mynar the Sorcerer.”

“Aye, sire, though with how the poison
disappeared… It bears the signature of Mynar, I would think?  Do you think
Mynar knew your intent was for Krobo to fail?” the warrior asked.

“Perhaps,” Khee-lar said, bothered by the talk of
it all with one of so low a social standing, though encouraged that someone
around him had seen his intent clearly.  “Go, tell Trelkar to leave the gen
shortly, and when we’ve taken the gen we’ll send for him at the First Night’s
Resting Place.”

“Yes, sire,” the warrior answered curtly, then
split off from the main group and doubled back into an uneven side passage, one
that tumbled over rocks and ran through seeps of mud and dipped into sumps of
water; one where he could pass undetected through the guard force Khazak Mail
Fist had deployed.

Breathing deeply, Khee-lar calmed himself and
focused on the tasks ahead.  Krobo had been taken, but that was no matter.  He
was only a pawn anyway, a delaying tactic at best.  No one already in the
Covenant had been taken, and sending Trelkar away before Karthan and his
lackeys could take him in would ensure that.  Their secret society was still
secret, and Lord Karthan didn’t have enough evidence to take action against
him… yet.

Durik walked quietly up to the sleeping form of
his fellow yearling behind the empty stand where Trallik had decided to hide. 
He had known Trallik wouldn’t be able to stay awake.  He never could.  Carefully,
and ever so quietly, he shifted a broad wooden plank just enough to completely
conceal Trallik, and not a moment too soon.

At that moment Lord Karthan’s chief bodyguard
entered the empty market cavern, followed closely by Spider, who walked along
behind him as easily as before he’d broken his leg during the year of training. 
Spider looked about the place, clearly not expecting to see Durik, who stood
there unassumingly.

Durik found it strange that Spider looked as calm
and collected as he did, but even more strange was that Spider didn’t even seem
to recognize Durik in the darkness of the cave.  It was as if he’d completely
forgotten the events of earlier that evening.

“Good evening, yearling,” the chief bodyguard
said, and though there was no light he did recognize Durik as one of the seven
who would be competing tomorrow.  “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Durik bowed his head.  “Yes.  I couldn’t sleep.”

The chief bodyguard laughed.  “Nervous for the
competition tomorrow, I’m sure.”

With that, the chief bodyguard and Spider walked
by, leaving Durik standing in front of the hidden form of his sleeping
companion.  Spider looked about one more time as the pair left the chamber. 
Not seeing Trallik, he shook his head and muttered to himself, but quickly
followed the chief bodyguard.

As the two passed into the far passage, Durik
heard Trallik stirring.  Quickly putting the wooden plank back in place, Durik
did his best to pad away silently after Spider.

“Here’s Krobo’s private chambers,” the chief
bodyguard said.  “And here I’ll leave you with him.”  He nodded toward the lone
guard that had been posted to the servants’ quarters in the Lord’s House.

Mynar the Sorcerer, still under Spider’s visage,
nodded and smiled at the chief bodyguard.  He was annoyed that the yearling
Trallik had not been there.  He needed his reported skill with locks, and
besides, he had to lay the blame on someone…

“If you need any help, I’m sure Bogat can help
you.”  With that, the chief bodyguard left the room.

“Here,” the guard named Bogat said.  “I’ll open up
his room for you.”  Key ring in hand, the guard opened one of the several doors
in this back-chamber warren of housing.  There was rarely anyone here during
the day, but at night all of the servants who did not have houses of their own
slept here.  Most of them had already gone to bed.  After all, a servant’s life
was always early to bed, early to rise, in order to prepare things for the lord
and his family.