Dragonlance 08 - Dragons of the Highlord Skies (11 page)

Lauralanthalasa, known affectionately as Laurana; elf princess, daughter of the Speaker of the Suns—and the betrothed of Tanis Half-Elven.

Tanis had told Kitiara all about that old childhood romance. He had also told her it was forgotten. He loved only one woman in the world, and that was Kitiara.

When she had asked him to travel north with her five years ago, he’d refused. He had made some lame excuse about inner turmoil, the need to think some things over, to come to know himself, try to find some inner peace between the warring halves of his being. He’d heard some rumors of the return of the true gods. He was going to go investigate …

“Investigate gods, my ass!” Kitiara fumed. “He went off to investigate his old girlfriend—the lying bastard!”

Never mind that in the intervening years, Kitiara had herself known a score of lovers, including Tanis’s close friend, Sturm Brightblade, who had journeyed north with her. That liaison had lasted one night only. She’d seduced the young man mainly because she was angry at Tanis. After Sturm there was Ariakas, and now her handsome second-in-command, Bakaris. She didn’t love any of them. She was not sure she loved Tanis, but she was damn sure he should be in love with her—not some spindly-limbed, slant-eyed, pointy-eared elf bitch.

Kitiara no longer cared why or how her friends had come to assassinate Lord Verminaard. All she could think about was Tanis and the elf girl. Was she still with him? What had happened when they were in Pax Tharkas together? Kitiara needed more information, and she regretted having walked away from Toede before he had finished his story. But then, he hadn’t been in Pax Tharkas. He’d said so himself. She needed to find someone who had.

She would ask Commander Grag. But she had to find an excuse for asking him about her friends. He must not suspect. No one must suspect. Ariakas was already suspicious, and if he ever found out that Tanis had been Kit’s lover …

Kitiara collapsed on the bed. She gazed, frowning, up at the canvas ceiling and berated herself.

“What am I doing? Why do I care? Tanis is a man just like every other man I’ve ever known. Except he isn’t,” Kitiara added softly, grudgingly.

All those men in her life since she’d been with Tanis. Kitiara realized now that she’d taken these men into her arms and into her bed in hopes that each new lover would make her forget the old one. The only lover who had spurned her, rejected her, turned his back on her and walked out of her life.

As Kitiara drifted off to sleep she saw Tanis’s face—just as she saw his face every time some other man made love to her.

Far away in Neraka, the fire in the brazier blazed brightly. The flames were reflected in Ariakas’s eyes, but he wasn’t seeing the flames. He was seeing the images within the magical firelight. He was watching and listening with frowning displeasure.

At length, the magical fire consumed the few strands of black curly hair Iolanthe had placed carefully into the brazier. The images of the hobgoblin, Toede, and Kitiara disappeared just as Kitiara stormed off to her tent.

This was the third time Iolanthe and Ariakas had used her scrying spell to spy on Kitiara and the first time they’d ever discovered something interesting. Prior to that, she and Ariakas had observed Kitiara speaking with Derek Crownguard, and the other time she’d been riding Skie. Ariakas had been pleased to discover that Kit was loyal to him, perhaps the only one of his Highlords he could truly trust. He was now being forced to face the truth.

Iolanthe said quietly, “You note, my lord, how she brought the conversation around to those people from Solace. Among those named were her half-brothers, were they not, my lord? Raistlin and Caramon Majere?”

“They were,” said Ariakas grimly. He shifted his baleful gaze from the brazier, from which curls of smoke were rising, to Iolanthe. “Kitiara told me about them. I think she once hoped they would join her, but if so, nothing ever came of it. If she did hire these men, why would she ask questions about them? It seems to me she would avoid mentioning them at all, so as not to draw suspicion to herself.”

“Unless she fears she might be implicated, my lord. She could be trying to find out if they said or did anything that would point the finger back at her.”

Ariakas grunted and shoved back his chair. He rose to his feet and with a flip of his cape, stalked off without a word. He was angry with her for having revealed to him what he didn’t want to know. Iolanthe should have tried to appease him, but she was too drained by the spellcasting to go after him. The scrying spell was a powerful one, requiring immense focus and concentration. She was feeling dizzy and nauseous and the stench of burnt hair wasn’t helping.

Ariakas halted when he reached the door to her chambers.

“I am not convinced,” he told her. “We will do this again.”

“I am yours to command, my lord,” Iolanthe said wearily, and she managed to find the strength to rise to her feet and bow.

When he was gone, she sank back into the chair and stared at the smoking brazier. She pondered what she was doing. In betraying Kitiara to Ariakas, she was undoubtedly winning Ariakas’s favor, but what would happen if Kit found out? Having watched Kitiara, Iolanthe was impressed with her. She was strong, resolute, intelligent. True, she was playing a dangerous game—though just what that game was, Iolanthe could not tell.

The people of Khur love horses. They breed the best in the world, and in order to prove which tribe breeds the finest, tribes race the horses, one against the other, with wagers placed on the outcome.

Iolanthe was starting to wonder if she’d bet her money on the wrong horse.

Iolanthe had noticed something Ariakas had not, something only a woman would see. Kitiara had been in an excellent humor, toying with the imbecile hobgoblin, even as she extracted the information she desired. She had taken pleasure in what Toede had been saying until he had mentioned the name of the elf princess. In an instant, Kitiara’s mood had altered. She had been snickering at Toede one moment, flying into a raging fury the next. The moment she’d felt the piercing bite of jealousy’s sharp tooth. Kitiara was jealous of the elf woman. This meant that one of those assassins was not only in Kitiara’s pay. He was also in her bed.

Iolanthe could have mentioned this to Ariakas. She had no proof, but she did have a quantity of black curls. She decided she would let the horses race on, see how they handled themselves over the distance before she put her money down on one or the other.

8

The Spy. The Rival.

itiara did not sleep well that night. She spent half the night lying awake, thinking of Tanis with pleasure one moment and the next cursing his name. When she finally fell asleep, Queen Takhisis visited her dreams, urging her to leave Haven and set off immediately for Dargaard Keep, there to challenge the death knight, Lord Soth. Kit fended off the Queen as best she could and woke with a raging headache. Afraid to fall back asleep, lest her Queen once more accost her, Kit rose early and sought out Commander Grag.

The dawn was gray and raw and cold. A chill drizzling rain had fallen during the night and, though it had stopped, water dripped from the trees, stood in puddles on the muddy ground, and trickled down the sides of the tents. The human soldiers grumbled and complained. The draconians complained, too, but not about the weather. They were angry because they were stuck here doing nothing when they wanted to be out fighting. Kit found the commander making his rounds of the sentry posts.

“Commander,” said Kitiara, falling in alongside the draconian officer, “the Emperor has tasked me with investigating the death of Highlord Verminaard—”

Grag made a face.

“I don’t much relish the assignment either,” said Kitiara. “To my mind, Verminaard brought about his own downfall. Still I have my orders.”

Grag nodded to indicate he understood.

“I spoke to the Fewmaster last evening. What can you tell me about the assassins?” Kitiara asked.

Grag glanced at her sidelong. All this interest in the assassins. Was she trying to cover her tracks? Grag considered the matter. He liked her and he had thought Verminaard a boorish lout. If the Blue Lady was involved, it wasn’t any of his business. Grag shrugged his scaly shoulders.

“Not much, I’m afraid, Highlord. They were slaves and, as such, I had little to do with them. I didn’t take any notice of them until they attacked us. Even then, things happened so fast and there was such confusion—dragons battling and half the mountain falling down on top of us—that I paid little attention to the slaves—except to order my men to slay them, of course.”

Kitiara was about to walk off, go in search of food, when Grag added, almost as an afterthought, “There is a man who might be able to tell you more. He was one of Verminaard’s spies. He managed to worm his way into the confidence of these people and he warned Verminaard they would likely make an attempt on his life. At least, that’s what the man claims.”

“I could use such information,” said Kit. “Where is this man?”

“Take a walk into Haven,” said Grag. “You’ll find what’s left of him by the side of the road.”

Kitiara shook her head, not understanding. “You make it sound like he’s dead in a ditch.”

“He probably wishes he was. The wretch was buried in the rock fall at Pax Tharkas. We thought he was dead when we pulled him out, but he was still breathing. The leeches saved his life, though not his legs. If the beggar’s not in his usual spot, go into Haven and ask around. Someone will know where to find him. His name is Eben Shatterstone.”

You’ll find what’s left of him by the side of the road
.

Grag’s description was accurate.

A good many beggars had taken up positions outside the city, hoping to catch travelers before they spent their money in the marketplace. Most of the men were casualties of the war—most of them missing limbs. Looking at these men, many still clad in the rags of their uniforms, Kit felt a knot in her gut. She saw herself by the side of the road, hand out, begging for scraps.

“Not me,” Kit vowed. “Not so long as I have the strength to use my sword.”

Opening her purse, she began dispensing coins and asking for a man called Shatterstone. The beggars mostly shook their heads; they were too absorbed in their own misery to care about anyone else. But one pointed with a maimed hand to what appeared to be a bundle of rags dumped beneath a tree.

Kitiara walked over to the bundle and, as she drew closer, she saw it was a man—or rather, the crushed remnants of a man. He had no lower limbs—both legs had been amputated—and he had strapped what was left of himself to a small cart on wheels, using his hands to pull himself over the ground. His face was so badly disfigured it was difficult to tell what he had once looked like, but Kitiara thought he might once have been a handsome young man. His unwashed hair fell over his brow and straggled down around his shoulders.

As she came near, he held out a grubby hand.

“I’m looking for Eben Shatterstone,” said Kit, squatting down to put herself on his level.

“Never heard of him,” the man said promptly. His eyes were fixed on the purse.

Kitiara drew out a steel piece and held it up. “I have this for Eben Shatterstone. If you happen to run into him—”

He made a grab at the steel piece. Kit was too quick for him. She snapped it back, out of reach. “This coin is for Eben Shatterstone.”

“I’m Shatterstone,” he said, looking at her with no very friendly eye. “What do you want?”

“Information.” Kitiara handed over the coin. He bit it, to make sure it was good, then slid it in a sack he wore suspended from a leather thong around his neck. “There’s another one like it if you tell me what I need to know.”

“About what?” Eben was suspicious.

“An elf woman. She was traveling with some adventurers who came to Pax Tharkas—”

Eben’s lips parted in an ugly leer. “Laurana.”

Kitiara seated herself on one of the tree’s exposed roots. “That might be the name. I’m not sure.”

“She was the only elf woman in Pax Tharkas,” said Eben. “And she was a beauty. Too bad she had eyes for only one man—or perhaps I should say half a man. The other half was elf.” He laughed at his little joke.

Kitiara laughed, too. “Tell me what you know about this elf. How did she come to be there? Was she traveling in company with this half-elf? Was she his lover, perhaps?” She spoke in casual tones.

Eben took a good look at her for the first time. Kitiara could guess what he must be thinking. She had dispensed with the trappings of a Dragon Highlord and was dressed in ordinary traveling clothes, the kind a sellsword might wear—leather vest, wool cloak, shirt, boots. Her clothes were of fine quality, however, as was the sword on her hip. An air of command and authority clung to her like expensive perfume. He knew she was someone important, he just didn’t know who. All of which suited Kitiara.

Eben began to talk. Kit sat with her back against the tree and listened.

The half-elf, whose name was Tanis, and the rest of the group—a mixed bunch of ne’er-do-wells—had been taken prisoner in Solace and were en route to Pax Tharkas when their slave caravan was attacked by a small party of Qualinesti elves (nowhere near five thousand!). The minute the elves had fired their arrows, the caravan’s guards, led by Fewmaster Toede, had beat a hasty retreat. The elves had freed the slaves and sent most of them on their way. One of the elves named Gilthanas, whom Eben had known before, recognized the half-elf. Apparently the two had been raised together or something like that. The half-elf and his friends accompanied the elves back to Qualinesti, which at the time was about to come under attack by the dragonarmies.

This Laurana had apparently been engaged to marry the half-elf, an arrangement her father would have opposed had he known anything about it. The elves convinced Tanis and his bunch to go to Pax Tharkas to start a slave revolt which would presumably keep the dragonarmies occupied and allow the elves time to evacuate their people.

The group set off for Pax Tharkas, accompanied by Laurana’s brother, Gilthanas, and Laurana, who sneaked after them and refused to go back home.

Eben Shatterstone knew all this because he had insinuated himself into the group, spying on them for Lord Verminaard. He had warned Verminaard about these dangerous people, but the Highlord, in his arrogance, had paid no heed.

As for Laurana, she was a pretty thing, though she was a spoiled brat who spent most of her time mooning over the half-elf.

“How did this half-elf react to that?” Kitiara asked.

“Tanis claimed he didn’t like her hanging all over him and following him around, but of course he was lapping it up like sweet cream,” said Eben, sneering. “What man wouldn’t? She was a beauty. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“For an elf,” said Kitiara.

“Elf, human …” Eben gave an ugly grin. “I wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed. And I bet that half-elf didn’t kick her out either. Who knows what those two were doing when the rest of us were asleep? Oh, sure, Tanis had to pretend he didn’t want to have anything to do with her, what with her brother watching him like a hawk. All of us could see the truth, though. Those two weren’t fooling anybody.”

Kitiara rose abruptly to her feet. She’d heard enough. More than enough. Her insides were twisted up like a tangle of snakes.

Eben looked at her purse. “Don’t you want to hear about what they did to Lord Verminaard?”

“Like I give a damn,” said Kit. She was in an ill humor. “I don’t suppose you know what happened to the elf woman after the fall of Pax Tharkas?”

Eben shrugged. “I heard from some dracos they all ended up in the dwarf kingdom.”

“The dwarven kingdom?” Kit repeated.

“Thorbardin. Seems they went there to hide out from the dragonarmies. If the half-elf is in Thorbardin, then I’ll bet Laurana’s there with him.”

Kitiara turned to leave.

“Hey!” Eben shouted wrathfully. “Where’s my money?”

Kitiara grabbed a coin from her purse and tossed it into the dirt, then stomped down the road, heading back to the dragonarmy camp. She had never been so angry. Tanis had sworn he loved no one but her and only a few weeks later, he was having a fling with another woman. And a filthy elf, no less! If Kit had met Tanis at that moment, she would have struck him down and stomped all over him.

Skie was still out on his errand and Kitiara had no way to reach him, so she was forced to stay in the dragonarmy camp, doing her best to avoid the imbecile Fewmaster. She kept herself occupied participating in training exercises, for Commander Grag insisted that his troops be kept in top fighting condition. Practicing against the draconians, who were excellent swordsmen, Kit worked out her frustrations and honed her own skills.

But when she wasn’t trading jabs with Grag or going along on raids into the surrounding territory, she was alone in her tent, brooding. Or rather, she wasn’t alone. An elf woman with golden hair and slanting blue eyes was always with her, sitting on the end of Kit’s bed, laughing at her.

Kitiara could not banish Laurana from her mind. Kit needed to find out more about her rival. After all, a good general required knowledge of the enemy in order to conduct a successful campaign. Kitiara sent her own spies into the territory around the dwarven kingdom. They would not be able to enter the mountain fastness, but they could keep watch, let her know if any humans, elves, or half-elves (especially half-elves) were sighted leaving the realm beneath the mountain.

“If I know Tanis,” she remarked to herself, as she wrote her directives, “he won’t stay cooped up underground with a bunch of dwarves for long. For one, he hates being in confined spaces. Living in a giant hole in the ground must be driving him crazy. For another, there’s a war going on and he’ll want to be in the thick of it.”