The Trials of Caste (13 page)

Durik and Keryak quickly ran past the well that served
the entire chamber, slowing to a trot as they approached the narrow space
between Jezmya’s house and the shanty next to it.  In a moment they were
listening carefully, trying to detect what was going on inside through the
thick woolen wall.

Inside, Jezmya was fretting.  She pulled at wool
that she was working on, but that didn’t help.  After a short bit, she got up
and walked out, intent on boiling some wallaya root to calm her nerves before
taking Krobo’s bag to his private chambers.

The moment she left her house Durik lifted the
woolen wall and Keryak rolled under.  Looking about, he saw the bag sitting
next to the wool he had heard her pulling.  Grabbing it quickly, he looked
about for a suitable replacement.  There, on the table, was a small pile of
leather bags of the same size and shape as this one.  Jezmya apparently crafted
them.  Quickly, Keryak grabbed one of the bags and scooped up some ash from the
small cooking fire to give it the same light weight and feel.  In a few short
moments all seemed as it was before he had entered, and Keryak had rejoined
Durik in the narrow alley.

Eagerly opening the bag in anticipation of taking the
evidence to Raoros Fang, the pair of yearlings gasped.  Taking a large pinch of
the substance out, the stunned look on Durik’s face said it all as he opened
his hand and watched ground up bits of spiced shelf fungus, not poison spores,
spill out of his palm and onto the ground.

I
t
had become something of a ritual to Keryak before the two moons of scouting,
one that he had eagerly renewed these past two nights.  With the events of the
day, he was yearning to clear his mind and prepare for the trials on the morrow,
and so he would go outside of the gen’s caverns. 

The world above, or the great outside, was a land
of mystery to most of the females and whelps of the gen, some were even afraid
to go to the surface, the lack of a ceiling and walls causing them great
unease.  For Keryak, however, evening in the outer world was a time of mystery
and great wonder.  On nights when the moon was new, the way the warmth of the
sun emanated from rocks and fought the cool dew from the trees and plants was played
out so clearly in his heat vision as the last light of the setting sun gave way
to the darkness of night.

Keryak walked softly into the sunken meadow that served
as the entrance to the home of their gen toward the stand of trees that was so
familiar to him.  The soft clover of spring on his feet felt cold, and Keryak
could see the sun had been down for some time; the warmth of an early spring
day had long since yielded to the cold of night.  Keryak could see his breath
in the air and he shivered as he walked toward a small figure wrapped in a fur
blanket.  By the lack of horns the figure was a female, though Keryak knew this
already.  For it was her that he had come to see, seated here on the side of
the small hillock, the trees behind her providing meager company for her lonely
vigil.

 “I almost thought you wouldn’t come tonight,” a
soft, feminine voice said from within the cover of the blanket.

Keryak smiled and opened up the blanket, revealing
a young female kobold.  Quickly he sat down against her side and wrapped the
blanket around the both of them, and they both shivered briefly in each other’s
arms.  “Darya, you know I wouldn’t miss our time for anything, especially after
two moons without you in the underdark.”

Darya snuggled up against Keryak’s chest, poking
her head out of the blanket just below his.  “I know,” she stated, and meant
it.

 “How are the stars tonight?” Keryak asked.

 “Lonely without you,” she replied, then squeezing
him she continued “but not anymore.  Now they’re beautiful again.”

Keryak sat thinking about the events of the day. 
He’d run through the whole scenario and couldn’t think of where the bag of
poison could have gone.  Now, however, with Darya snuggled up against him, his
worry and frustration melted away.  Soon his thoughts turned away from the
events of the day and to the events of the morrow.

 “You seem awfully quiet tonight,” Darya remarked
after a while.

 “Ah Darya, I will miss you,” Keryak replied.

 “Oh, don’t think of going away.”  She buried her
head in his chest.

 “It is for the best, you know.  When I return, I
will be a warrior in the gen, maybe even elite warrior if I win tomorrow’s
competition, and then I will have the right to establish my own home.”

 “Lot of good it will do you.  I’m only thirteen
now, and have several moons… more than a year until I reach fifteen,” Darya
said.

 “Well, I didn’t say I had to make it with you,”
Keryak countered, jokingly.  For his joke he received a sharp elbow in the
stomach.  “Oomph.  I give!  Just joking.”

Darya looked up at him with pouting lips, “You’d
better be.”  Then turning back to the stars, she continued, “I’d hate to have
to find someone else to watch the stars with on these cold spring nights.”

For quite some time they sat alternately in
silence or chatting of life, the stars, their dreams, hopes and aspirations,
all the while skirting the topic of the quest that would come after the trials,
which would take him away from her again.  Finally, they sat watching their
breath as it formed clouds and gazed at the stars together in silence.  After a
few more moments, Keryak was beginning to fall asleep.  “My love, I wish we
could stay out here all night, but I think I’d better get some sleep before the
trials tomorrow.  Besides, if I keep you out much later your uncle Drok will
come looking for you.”

Darya nodded sleepily, patting him on the chest. 
Taking the blanket with them, the two young kobolds walked past the guards at
the entrance, down toward the caves of the Wolf Riders that they both called
home, and eventually came to Darya’s house.  As they reluctantly parted, they
spoke again of their love for one another.

As he went to his own house and got into bed,
Keryak knew that he would give it his all the next day, for their future.

“Sire, I had the bag in my hand.  Somehow,
however, it wasn’t the bag with the poison spores in it,” Durik was
explaining.  “I saw him scraping the spores from the mushrooms, but somehow we
must have gotten the wrong bag.”

Raoros sat up in his oversized wooden chair, the
boarskin draped over it falling off the back with the motion.  He was in a
sullen mood, which was unusual for the burly warrior.  “And what proof do you
have?” he asked.  “How do I know that you didn’t just go running about the
halls of our gen all day and never actually get to the task I gave you?”

Durik was taken aback.  He was used to being
trusted, not doubted.  Grabbing another bag from his waist, he put it on the
little table that sat between them.  “Sire, we… I mean I harvested the
mushrooms he scraped, and others besides.  Look, here they are!” he said as he
handed him the bag.

Raoros’ snout wrinkled as he opened the bag and
smiled, then tightened it again.  His face reverted to a scowl as he looked at
Durik again.  “What do you mean we?” he asked coolly.  “I thought I told you
not to share this with anyone.”

Durik squirmed a bit in his seat.  “Sire,” he
began hesitantly.  “Keryak and I… well, sire, I didn’t know if I could find the
cavern with the mushrooms without Keryak.”

Raoros shook his head and sat back in his chair. 
“You have a hard time following instructions, don’t you, Durik?” he asked
rhetorically.  “You’d better fix that.  You’ll be a warrior in my warrior group
soon, and I don’t stand for such… unreliability.”

Durik bowed his head.  “Sire, it was not my
intention to…”

Raoros held up a hand and silenced the repentant
yearling.  “It never is, is it?” he said.

Durik had no response. 

“Well, why are you still here?”

“Sire,” Durik began, crestfallen, “It may not be
Khazak Mail Fist.  It may be Trelkar that is trying to poison Lord Karthan.”

Raoros’ eyes narrowed.  “Where did you hear this?”

“Sire,” Durik began, “Spider gave the poison to an
older kobold.  Trelkar was there as well and was a part of it.  They all three
scattered when Khazak Mail Fist and some of Lord Karthan’s Honor Guard warriors
showed up.  They chased after Trelkar and I think they confronted him.”

“Did you hear what they asked Trelkar?” Raoros
asked guardedly.

Durik shook his head.  “No, sire.  We were too far
away.”

Raoros’ countenance sharpened again.  “Enough of
this!” he growled.  “You’ve already seen enough.  I will take care of it from
here.  I don’t want you getting involved in this anymore.  Speak no more of
this to anyone!  Do you understand me?  No one!”

Durik nodded.

“Be gone with you!”

Durik bowed his head and turned away, shuffling
off as fast as was respectful.

Spider stood up from the table.  His normal sullen
look had undergone quite a transformation.  He stood erect and arrogant. 
Trelkar of the Deep Guard was playing the young kobold, as was his master Khee-lar
Shadow Hand.  He was their pawn, and ultimately their fall guy.  But standing
there at that moment, he appeared to be none of those things.  “They use Spider
so lightly,” he muttered to himself.  “But that’s how life is for the weak.”

Taking the bag of poison spores from the table, he
stood up straight as he heard the approaching footsteps.  Soon, Lord Karthan’s
muscle-bound chamberlain walked into the room, flanked by Lord Karthan’s chief
bodyguard and his chief elite warrior.

“Spider, I presume?” Khazak Mail Fist asked
unceremoniously.

Spider nodded.

“Do you have the bag of poison spores?” Khazak
asked.

Spider passed the bag over to Khazak’s waiting
hands, who opened it, quickly pulling the strings tight again as soon as he
recognized the poison.

“Very well,” Khazak said, his tone curt and all
business.  “This plus what we saw in the market today will help.”

“Aye, sire,” the chief bodyguard agreed.  “I told
you my source was reliable.”

“Hmm, reliable, yes,” Khazak acknowledged, “but we
didn’t catch Trelkar with the poison.  That would have been best.  And we can’t
prove that the bag Krobo had was this bag.”

Spider scowled without thinking.  After all, it
was Khazak and his warriors who had come too early.  He’d told them to wait
until Trelkar had the bag, and they should have nabbed Krobo right then.

“If you’d not have come up so soon,” Spider
quipped, “Trelkar wouldn’t have run.”

Khazak looked with annoyance at this young kobold
who stood judging him.

Spider shook his head.  To the others it was clear
he didn’t have the self-discipline to stop talking.  “You should have waited
until Trelkar took the poison from Krobo, or at least grabbed Krobo,” he
quipped.

Khazak regarded the lame former yearling with a
stern glance.  After a moment, he passed the bag over to the chief elite
warrior.

“Go, Chief.  Watch Krobo.  If he’s stupid enough
to pour the decoy bag into the stew, or if he somehow gets his hands on another
bag of poison, then take him and throw him into prison immediately.  If he
doesn’t try anything stupid, then when Lord Karthan leaves for the council,
escort our would-be-traitor to the prison and interrogate him.  Try not to disturb
Lord Karthan and his house.”

“Sire,” Spider said, “He has some things that my
mother gave him.  She would want them back.”

Khazak regarded the servant caste with the
slightest hint of pity, not sensing any ulterior motives and thinking instead
that he genuinely wanted to help his mother.  Turning back to the chief
bodyguard and Spider, Khazak Mail Fist nodded.  “Yes.  After all, Krobo will
have no use for it shortly.  But not until after Krobo is at the prison.  Now,”
he continued, looking at the chief bodyguard, “escort young Spider here out of
the Leaders’ Grotto.  After Krobo is at the prison getting interrogated let him
gather what he will of his mother’s belongings from Krobo’s quarters.”

The chief bodyguard nodded and began walking
away.  Spider hurried after him.

Khazak turned to the chief elite warrior.  The
steely eyed veteran was watching as Spider walked away.

“We’re done here,” Khazak said.  “We have the
poison, but we don’t have Trelkar or any real link to Shadow Hand yet.  Stay
vigilant.  I don’t think this is their last attempt to kill Lord Karthan.”

His companion was chewing on his lip in thought. 
“Sire, isn’t Spider lame?  I thought that’s why they didn’t let him back into
the year of training.”

Khazak glanced back toward the retreating form of
Spider and the chief bodyguard.  To his surprise, Spider was walking like any
other kobold.  “Maybe he’s healed.”

The chief elite warrior was silent for a few
moments, then turned and looked at Khazak.  “Maybe so.  Well, I’m off to the
Lord’s house, then.  Double guard still in effect, there.”

“Aye.”  Khazak nodded absently, still thinking
about Spider’s apparent recovery.