signs of fatigue as it wheeled and swooped over the rooftops of Luthcheq.
Unfortunately, despite Iron’s willingness to carry him wherever he wanted to go, Khouryn could see no sign that the Brotherhood of the Griffon was currently in the city or anywhere near it. Not that he was surprised. He’d assumed his comrades would be somewhere in the north fighting Threskel. But it meant he’d have to ask somebody to point him in precisely the right direction.
He could inquire of Nicos Corynian, but the nobleman might not be privy to all the latest news and every detail of the war hero’s plans. Whereas someone in the War College surely would be. So Khouryn sent Iron winging toward the citadel.
Even a giant bat wasn’t a griffon, and as far as Khouryn knew, Iron and its kind had no special yen for horsemeat. Still, it might be asking a lot of human grooms to take charge of such an exotic and intimidating animal. So he set down on top of the great mass of sandstone, where the Chessentans had carved battlements and emplaced catapults and ballistae. A sentry noticed his sudden, plunging arrival and yelped.
“It’s all right!” Khouryn called. “I’m the dwarf sellsword. Remember me? I want to see Shala Karanok. Or whoever’s in charge, if she’s gone north.”
“Wait here,” said the guard, then scurried away. Khouryn frowned. So much had happened since his departure that he’d half forgotten that the average Chessentan didn’t like dwarves-until the sentry’s curtness reminded him. But maybe the fellow was just rattled.
Whatever he was, he eventually returned with two others like him, as well as an officer with a jutting plume on his helmet and a baton tucked under his arm. Khouryn greeted them and repeated his request.
“It’s been arranged,” the officer said. “But what about your … animal?”
“He’ll be all right here for a while,” Khouryn said, “as long as no one bothers him.”
“Then come with us.”
The soldiers took Khouryn down several stairways into the heart of the cliff, then through a series of passages. The corridors became more ornate, more palatial, as they progressed toward the east and the rest of the city. Finally they arrived at cast bronze double doors decorated with a relief of warships fighting. A guard stood on either side of the entry.
“You have to surrender your axe and dirk,” said the warrior on the left.
Khouryn frowned, but he knew better than to argue. “It’s actually called an urgrosh,” he said, pulling the weapon off his back.
Once they’d disarmed him, the doorkeepers opened the valves. When he saw who waited on the other side, he stopped short.
The hall was predominantly green, with jade tile on the floor and ships on the tapestries battling amid emerald seas. At the back rose a dais surmounted by a thronelike chair.
The skinny woman who appeared to be in charge hadn’t presumed to occupy it. But she’d had someone carry in an almost equally fancy seat of her own and place it right in front of the platform. Glowering, she perched there, a splash of red amid all the green, her ruby-and topaz-bedizened robe hanging on her like a tent.
“Go on!” the officer said. “And bow!”
Khouryn obeyed. To the best of his recollection, he’d never seen the woman in red before. But she was evidently somebody important.
“Good evening, milady,” he said. “I apologize for disturbing you so late in the evening. But I’m Khour-”
“I know who you are!” she snapped.
“Oh. Well, then you probably realize why I’m here. I want to rejoin Captain Fezim’s company as quickly as possible.”
She smirked. “I’m sure you do, dwarf. I’m sure you do.”
He hesitated. “Excuse me?”
“You must think I’m a fool. You dare to come here on the back of one of the dragonborn’s special steeds. Yet you imagine I’ll simply smile and send you on your way.”
“I realize there was a … problem between Chessenta and Tymanther. That’s why my men and I had to take Ambassador Perra home. But-”
“There’s more than a
“The Red Dragon put me in charge in his absence! Shala Karanok is only a minor functionary now, and will be lucky to cling to even that. And you’re my prisoner. You’ll pay for every threat and insult your master and his witch … I mean, you’re going to tell us everything you know about Tarhun the Vanquisher’s schemes! Arrest him!”
Hands fell on Khouryn’s shoulders. He spun, breaking their grips, and drove a punch into a guard’s gut. The human doubled over. Khouryn backpedaled, looking for a way out.
The madwoman in the gaudy finery might be it. If he could get his hands on her, he could threaten to break her neck if the guards didn’t let him go. He charged her, and then a man in a chasuble of shimmering scales stepped out of the shadows. He hissed words of power and whirled a hand with rings on all five fingers through a serpentine pass.
Khouryn’s muscles locked, and he pitched forward onto his face. He was still lying that way when something hard slammed down on the back of his head.
