15
DROKO
My time was growing short.While everyone was busy with the merchant, I sought out Crespash in Taruut’s chambers to see what he’d found.
“A whole lot of nothing.”
The slave lounged on the old shaman’s sedan chair, experimentally gumming a dried mushroom.There was an empty wineskin beside him.I quelled the urge to dump him off the chair myself.A passing guard might notice, and wonder why I hadn’t orderedhimto beat the goblin for me, instead.
“Then what are you doing here?Shouldn’t you be out looking?”
“I did look.Just like I was told.Found plenty of mushrooms, but no crypt.”
He pushed a few onto the floor as he rose, and I had to grit my teeth not to roar at him.“Do you think this is some kind of joke?”
“Goblin senses are notoriously acute…all but the sense of humor.In fact, I find the situation very serious indeed.Just came round to check your captain’s map and make sure I didn’t spend my day treading in someone else’s footsteps.I presume you’re hard at work on your own search.”He leered at me…and I wondered if what I’d done with Archie was so easy to see.“Pray tell, Droko the Sage, what haveyoudiscovered?”
“That I’ve got no time to waste squabbling with you.Now, track down that crypt or we’re both as good as dead.”
The goblin would have stuck around to get in a few more licks—he’s notoriously disobedient—but when he put a stubby hand to the ground to read the caves’ vibrations, he quickly changed his mind and set off.Just as he eeled out of a narrow passage, the sound of metal-clad boots on stone reached my ears.Since my own guard wore sandals, it could only be the chieftain’s men.
And Ul-Rott was with them.
The shaman’s chambers were hung all around with bundles of drying herbs, and the chieftain swatted away a fern frond tickling at his cheek.He was a warrior, accustomed to grand halls and wide open spaces.The steamy, dark closeness of the caves didn’t sit well on his armored shoulders.So it was curious he should visit twice in as many days.
“I still have until dawn to find that crypt,” I blurted out, and his guard’s eyes widened at my directness.“Er…Praise Ul-Rott,” I added, wondering if I’d just exposed myself as a chieftain’s son…albeit a disposable third one.
“Yes, of course.I may not be known for my patience, but I do know how to count.I’m following up on yesterday’s visit.I need more of that salve.”
“I’m pleased to hear it worked.”Hopefully he didn’t expect me to whip up another batch on the spot.“It’s a tedious process to create, but the proof is in the results.I’ll send some to your lodge as soon as it’s ready.”
The chieftain grunted his agreement, eyeing a shelf of dried animal paws with a puzzled scowl on his face.I was relieved he wasn’t hoping to view my poor attempt at herbcraft…until I realized he could just have easily sent word with a guard instead of walking over here himself.Especially given the state of his inner thighs.
“Not only a tedious process,” I said, “but lengthy.”
Ul-Rott turned to me in assessment.“Men say shamans have one foot in the spirit world—do they make these claims in Two Swords?”
“Some do.”
“You’re blunt.An uncommon trait for a shaman.”
Unease twisted my gut.
“Not just blunt,” he went on, “but plainspoken.Back before your former clan tried to claim our lands—back when it was safe for orcs to mingle with our distant brethren—I’d get envoys from other clans as far off as the Wasteland.I even visited a few myself.And all their shamans had the same gift: turning plain speech into a tangle of nonsense.They could hardly tell someone water was wet without making a whole production out of it.”
Crespash had warned me about my plain speech.But I had no talent for embellishment.As much as I needed my goblin to find that crypt, right now I wished I had him whispering in my ear.“I’ve never seen the point in wasting breath on useless words.”
“Not very politic of you, I’ll say that much.It will take some getting used to.Not that I’d ever mix you up with Taruut.The old man was practically a skeleton.Had to be carted around everywhere on his chair.But you....”He eyed me up and down.“So big I might mistake you for one of your honor guard, if it weren’t for your trinkets and your staff.”
I was suddenly very aware of the tree branch propped against the wall, and the ridiculous bits of feather and grass the goblin had shoved into my outfit on our hasty trek through the woods.
The chieftain’s eyes went shrewd, and I regretted giving away my cloak.“You stand more like a soldier than a priest.”
I knew better than to contradict the chieftain, so responded as I would with my father, with a single nod.
“Well,” Ul-Rott said brusquely.“I’m more comfortable around soldiers, anyway.Who’s got time to sift through a bunch of cryptic remarks searching for the truth?”
“Agreed.”I might actually come through this meeting unscathed.I steered the chieftain around a work table, toward the exit.“So I will send over your remedy when it’s done.But now I must prepare for the funeral rites—”
