a plaster mask which reminded Tiep that Dru was one of those rare wizards who could brawl with the best-or worst-of any city's scum. But Dru got his temper under control.
'The bug lady didn't leave us any choice. What is it between you and Sheemzher, Tiep? Did you two cross paths before he came to the room?'
'No.'
Tiep could have kicked himself right afterward-Dru had all but handed him a script for getting rid of Sheemzher and he'd wasted a perfect opportunity by blurting out the truth. Druhallen had that effect on folk whose heads didn't come up to his shoulder. Tiep tried to repair the damage 'We've been tricked, Dru, conned, gulled, set up, whatever. Look at us, sleeping on stone mattresses, eaten alive, and wearing wet shoes. At the rate we're going, we'll be lucky if we get to Dekanter before the snow flies. If anyone was following us-Damn, if they left that first morning when we were in Weathercote and they stuck to the Dawn Pass Trail, they're going to get there long before us on this lousy excuse for a shortcut. Doesn't that bother you? Make you ask questions about our guide and his mistress? The way I figure it, the bug lady and the Black Network have marked us for sheep, Druhallen, and they've got us following a goblin goat straight to slaughter.'
Dru stared into the darkness, rubbing his dark-stubbled chin. 'It looks that way, doesn't it, when you lay everything on the table.'
If Galimer or Rozt'a had said those words, Tiep would have rejoiced, but Dru was different. When Dru conceded a point, it was time to watch your back.
'Of course, when you put everything on the table, you're taking coincidence and making it deliberate. For example, you've got to assume that Sheemzher not only knew I was going to take the back way after I left the charterhouse, but that he arranged for those brutes to beat that goblin child. Not to mention the timing-a few moments one way or the other and either the chicken coop would have been empty or I'd have found a corpse. Same thing in Weathercote Wood with the reaver and, more important, with you, Tiep. If Rozt'a hadn't sent you scrambling up that tree, would you have stolen that amber… on your way into the forest?'
According to Galimer, who probably knew what he was talking about, Druhallen couldn't cast charm-type spells because he didn't know any and, besides, Tiep was supposedly immune to lesser magics, especially charms and enchantments. So, there wasn't anything sorcerous about Dru's dark eyes when they nailed Tiep where he stood. His stare was just the smug look of a man who knew how his foster-son's mind worked.
Weakly, Tiep tried to get back to where he'd started. 'I can take the watch. There's no need to wake Rozt'a. If she gets mad, I'll say it's my fault.'
Druhallen shook his head. 'Lies are lies, Tiep, even the ones you tell to protect someone. If I let you take the watch, it's my responsibility… and my fault, if you do something we all regret.'
'I won't,' Tiep insisted.
'See to it,' Dru said as he stood up.
Tiep waited until Druhallen was stretched out an arm's length from Rozt'a's blankets and breathing easily. He walked between them, wishing he had a lamp. Neither of them twitched out of turn and Tiep felt safe heading toward the horse lines and the place where Sheemzher slept beside his spear. Maybe the goblin had made plans with Amarandaris; there was only one way to find out for certain.
Striking fast, Tiep grabbed the sleeping goblin from behind. He clapped one hand over Sheemzher's mouth to keep him quiet and pressed his other forearm hard against the goblin's windpipe. Sheemzher struggled-the dog-face had a certain wild-animal bravado-but settled down fast when Tiep squeezed hard and cut off his air.
'I've got questions. You're going to answer them yes or no. You say yes by nodding your head, no by shaking it sideways. Got it?'
The goblin's chin bobbed beneath Tiep's. It was the correct response, but Tiep hadn't expected Sheemzher to catch on so quickly and jerked the goblin from his blankets with more force than he needed. He didn't let Sheemzher plant his feet firmly on the ground, but dragged him on his heels past the horse line. And past the blood line, too, which probably accounted for Sheemzher's renewed struggles. Tiep applied a little more pressure on the goblin's throat and calm was restored.
'Who do you work for?'
Sheemzher made unintelligible noises in his throat. Tiep felt foolish-his first serious question couldn't be answered with a yes or no.
'Do you work for the Zhentarim?'
Because Tiep held the goblin from behind, he couldn't see anything of Sheemzher's face, but the goblin flinched when he said 'Zhentarim.' The chin tap that followed the flinch wasn't convincing. Tiep shoved Sheemzher against the rock behind the ledge and spun him around.
'Liar!' Tiep hissed. He laid a short, vicious punch into Sheemzher's mid-section then relaxed the pressure on the goblin's throat. 'What did they give you to betray us?'
The little, close-set eyes widened and showed pale, faintly glowing rings around the pupils. 'Bad men. All bad men. Sheemzher not work for bad men. Sheemzher not work for Zhentarim.' He turned the last word into an eerie song.
Tiep unleashed another punch precisely where he'd landed the first, a painful persuasive technique he'd learned the hard way. Sheemzher's gut had to be burning. The goblin's knees buckled and he'd have gone down if Tiep hadn't kept him pinned against the stone.
'Who's waiting for us at Dekanter?'
'Ghistpok there? Beast Lord there?' Fear turned the goblin's words into questions.
Tiep raised his arm quickly, smacking the back of Sheemzher's skull against the rock. 'The Black Network! Is Amarandaris on the Dawn Pass Trail right now, planning to get there ahead of us?'
Sheemzher stiffened. 'Ask self, not Sheemzher. Sheemzher not talk black-lord Amarandaris.'
'I've got no business with him. You stick to the truth and leave me out of this,' Tiep snapped and delivered his hardest punch yet.
The goblin sagged. For a heartbeat Tiep thought he'd seriously damaged the dog-face. The stench was bad and sudden, like a man dying from the waist down. Tiep wrinkled his nose dramatically.
'What's the point of wearing clothes, Sheemzher, when all you can do is soil them?'
'Not Sheemzher!' the goblin insisted, and emphasized his point by kicking Tiep's kneecap. It was the first move he'd made in his own defense since Tiep had grabbed him. 'Ask self!'
In point of fact, the stench wasn't radiating from the goblin. And it certainly wasn't coming from Tiep. Gritting his teeth, Tiep took a deeper breath and determined that the odor rose in the darkness beyond the ledge, out in the bog forest. It was getting stronger, too. Tiep gagged and nearly lost his hold on Sheemzher.
'What died?' he asked no one in particular.
The goblin didn't answer but the darkness did. Something soft and warm brushed against Tiep's leg. An instant later he was in the air, held by the ankle and thrashed against the stone. He emptied his lungs in a scream then lost his voice when he had to fill them with the foulest air imaginable. It was the youth's worst nightmare come to life, he was being held prisoner by a man-high mound of predatory manure.
Manure with a grip of iron. Tiep lashed out with his free leg. He might as well have kicked a rock. The reek- heap that had captured him was all strength within its oozy, soft flesh. Its arms were jointless, like the third arm of that demon who'd helped butcher Cardinal, but with a serpent's whiplash strength. Twice more the beast battered Tiep against the rock face behind the ledge. He managed to protect his head both times, but that wouldn't last.
Then the dung beast whirled him up high and, bad as it was, it got worse. At the top of one arc, Tiep caught a glimpse of three bulbous eyes growing near the tip of another serpentine arm.
Hunger… hunger… hunger! Soft. Warm-soft. Hunger.
Tiep's mind filled with visions of gore, viscera, and fist-sized chunks of raw meat. He realized the manure wasn't merely alive and moving and hungry, it was sentient-it had thoughts and it was projecting those thoughts into his head.
Tiep crashed into a rock. The blow across the shoulders left him stunned and defenseless when the dung beast smashed him to the ground a moment later. He was going to die. The dung beast was going to pound him to a broken-bone pulp, then pull him apart and eat him piece by dripping piece. Tiep could see it all unfolding inside his own skull. He was whipping through the air, headed for another bashing against stone, when the world lit up.
Druhallen! Druhallen had come to his rescue with magical fire.
