Excel lency,' he stammered, 'I have yet to tell you that he was stealing something of yours. He was trying to break into your personal warrens.'
Pitrick was puzzled. This incident was of small conse quence by any account. The warrens were Thorbardin's ma jor food production area, and Aghar sneaked in to steal things from time to time. They took garbage, mostly, so stealing food was unusual, but it hardly required his per sonal attention.
Yet his chambers were growing cold, and his mind was wandering. A bit of sport with an Aghar might be uplifting,
Pitrick thought. 'You may go,' he said to the guard and slammed the door in his face.
Taking a deep breath, Pitrick touched his ring while pic turing the guardpost at the edge of the North Warren. By the time he exhaled, he stood at that very guardpost.
'Well? Where is the duty officer?' Several startled guards stepped backward, away from the sudden apparition, and snatched up their weapons. Immediately afterward, they recognized the thane's adviser and snapped to attention. A sergeant stepped forward and waved his hand speechlessly, indicating the direction to the duty officer. Without a nod and dragging his foot, Pitrick advanced down the tunnel.
The warrens were a gigantic labyrinth of passageways and grottoes wherein huge fields of fungus and mold, the staple foods of the subterranean dwarf, grew in great abun dance. The warrens also boasted large pools containing trout and other cold-water fish. Various sorts of compost hills were dispersed throughout the area, providing nutri ents for the thin soil. Eternally wrapped in darkness, the warrens were heavy with fetid air, carrying within them a sense of the power and limitless wealth of the earth, in all its living forms.
Within moments, Pitrick sighted the helpless prisoner bound and laying on the cavern floor.
'We caught him breaking into one of your rooms, Excel lency,' volunteered one of the derro guards.
Pitrick cut him off. 'I know that! Are you the duty offi cer? If not, summon him here!'
The guard scurried away and around a corner of the tun nel. Pitrick nonchalantly eyed the frightened Aghar on the ground. He circled around the prisoner, whose gaze fol lowed him like a bird's. As Pitrick was completing his cir cuit, the duty officer approached and saluted smartly.
'Tell me what is so important about this pathetic crea ture,' Pitrick commanded.
The duty officer was admirably unshaken. 'We caught him trying to get into one of your warrens, Excellency. Nor mally we wouldn't think much about catching a gully dwarf, but this one seemed almost to be looking for some thing specific. Usually they stick to the garbage piles and compost heaps deep in the warrens, and almost never come in this close.'
Pitrick glared at the Aghar prisoner, inspecting the fel low's ragged garments. The gully dwarf offered a tentative, gap-toothed smile, prompting Pitrick to slap him across the face.
'You have done well,' the hunchback said to the guard.
The derro reacted to the adviser's praise, if not with plea sure, at least with a noticeable sense of relief. 'Tell me more.
What is in that warren.'
'Mossweed, Excellency. North Warren Blue, specifically.
Your personal stock. Him being here in the first place was odd enough, but that he'd try to steal smoke weed instead of food — it just doesn't add up. That's why I called you, Excel lency. I thought you should know.'
'Indeed.' Pitrick fixed his eyes on the Aghar and watched the color drain from the little fellow's face. Why would a gully dwarf try to steal smoke weed? And why this particu lar smoke weed? Pitrick's North Warren Blue was renowned as the best in Thorbardin, but only among those aficionados familiar with the finer points of the weed.
The Aghar groaned and squirmed, looking around for a friendly face. When Pitrick spoke, his voice came out silky smooth, soothing the trembling gully dwarf.
'So you want some smoke weed, hmmm?' Pitrick smiled.
It was more of a grimace, but it was the best he could do. 'It is such a pleasure to find a gully dwarf with refined taste.
Why do you enjoy it so?'
The Aghar squinted at him in fright, trying hard to under stand the question. 'Enjoy what so?' he finally inquired.
'The North Warren mossweed, of course,' said Pitrick, pretending mild surprise. 'You do smoke it, don't you?' The derro's mind seethed. He pictured his hands wrapping around the helpless gully dwarf's throat and squeezing, slowly, as the thing squirmed. He imagined a dozen deli cious ends for the useless creature and wondered briefly which he would choose. When the time came, he knew, the answer would provide itself.
The gap-toothed Aghar looked at him in confusion for a moment longer. Then, like the sun emerging from a dense overcast, a smile of understanding illuminated his features.
'Oh,' he chuckled. 'Mossweed not for Too-thee.'
'Oh?' Pitrick's eyes narrowed. 'Who, then?'
'Mossweed for queen! New queen of Mudhole like good smoke!' the Aghar proclaimed, proudly. 'Choose me, Too thee, to get for herl'
Mudhole, Pitrick assumed, was one of the pathetic gully dwarf lairs on the fringes of Thorbardin. His outrage grew at the thought of some Aghar sow enjoying his smoke…
But why? Why would a gully dwarf, who dined on worms and garbage, be concerned about the quality of her smoke weed?
'Tell me about this new queen of Mudhole,' prompted Pitrick smoothly. 'After all, I represent the thane — the king of the Theiwar. Perhaps he would be interested in meeting your queen.'
'No, no. Queen already have king. But thane could visit!
We throw big party for Queen Furryend and King Flunk and thane!'
'Have Furryend and Flunk been your rulers for a long time?'
'Oh, yes! Two days! Maybe more! King and queen, they descend from mud, just like in property! They come down to Mudhole two days ago!' The Aghar spoke freely now, happy to pour out his knowledge for these Theiwar who knew so little.
'Tell me what Queen Furryend looks like,' Pitrick snapped. His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. 'Is she enormously fat, or covered with warts?'
'Oh, no, queen beautiful. She big pretty, with right size nose and red hair like iron rust.' Too-thee looked up, hoping the explanation pleased the grotesque derro.
Pitrick turned away, his eyes bulging, his mind inflamed.
The derro guards stepped back, frightened by the look on his face. The pieces of this puzzle were falling together.
Queen Furryend — Perian it must be — descended to them two days ago, complete with a king — Flint — red hair, and a taste for North Warren Blue. She obviously thought it would be funny to steal his private stock, as if that would make a fool of him. Indeed, he understood why his wish spell had failed. His wording had been perfect. But he'd asked for Perian to be returned-to life, and she'd never died!
How they had survived he could not fathom, but he was certain that it was Perian who was queen to these gully dwarves.
Flecks of spittle trickled from the hunchback derro's twitching lips. He thought how that red-haired halfbreed wench must be laughing at his failure, and his rage became supreme. Pitrick turned back slowly, his unblinking eyes locked on the Aghar. Too-thee twisted and squirmed back ward as the savant crept closer.
'I will kill you first,' he hissed. 'But you are just the begin ning. Your entire thieving, conniving clan will be wiped out.
I'll kill every one of them, one at a time, with my own hands if I must. But I will have her! I will have your queen, and she will suffer!'
Pitrick sprang forward, his powerful hands locking around the throat of the squirming Aghar. The derro guards nervously watched as the berserk savant vented his rage against the hapless prisoner.
Pitrick shook the Aghar like a rag doll, and then threw the wailing dwarf aside. His hand grasped the medallion at his chest, his other rose to point an accusing finger at the gully dwarf.
A bolt of magical energy crackled from Pitrick's finger. It sparked through the air and struck the gully dwarf
