The Trials of Caste (17 page)

Waiting patiently for the guard to finish opening
the finicky door and to step aside, Mynar nodded and walked into the cramped
little quarters.  Instantly he found what he needed.

“Bogat, can you help me lift this?” he asked from
behind the door.

The guard ducked in to the little chamber and
looked up just in time to receive a crushing blow to the head with a heavy,
polished bronze candlestick.  Grabbing Bogat by the arms, Mynar drug him into
the small chamber, stripped off his equipment then put a pillow over his snout. 
Several moments later he checked to make sure the guard was no longer breathing,
then rolled the body under Krobo’s bed, hiding it behind a couple of extra
blankets.

A few moments later, Bogat emerged from Krobo’s
chamber, adjusting a bulging belt pouch he wore and tightening the baldric to
the sword that hung on his belt before he turned and locked the chamber door.

Durik stood before the pair of guards at the
entrance to the Lord’s House pleading his case.  It was well into the first
watch of the night, however, and neither of these guards had any knowledge of
‘some plot to poison Lord Karthan’s household,’ nor were they particularly
inclined to listen to some yearling telling them a fantastic story.  Finally,
just as Durik was about to give up, Khazak Mail Fist, Lord Karthan’s Chief Elite
Warrior, and a pair of Honor Guard warriors arrived on the scene.

“Yearling!” Khazak commanded in a stern voice.  “You’re
the bronze-scaled one.  Here, what are you doing out?  The Trials are
tomorrow!”

Durik nodded.  “Yes, sire.  But I have some
information about some poison that someone gave to you.”

Khazak looked at Durik as if for the first time. 
Looking around, he lowered his voice.  “Well, then, out with it.”

“I overheard two kobolds in the passageway near
the market,” he began.

“Do you know who they were?” Khazak interrupted.

Durik thought for a moment, then shook his head. 
“No, sire,” he uncharacteristically lied, trying to protect Trallik yet again
from himself, if only because of the year of training they had gone through
together.  “These two kobolds were talking.  One said to the other that he had
taken the poison from Spider and given it to you.  But he said he had another
bag of poison.”

Khazak’s eyes narrowed in thought.  “Hm.  That
doesn’t make sense.  I…”

Suddenly, behind him the chief elite warrior spoke
up.  “Sire!  I know it now!  Spider wasn’t limping last time we saw him!  It
must be that magic-using imposter from the Krall Gen!”

“What do you mean, chief?  Spider gave me the bag
of poison,” Khazak replied.

“Yes,” the chief elite warrior answered, “but do
you remember the report about the one who could change the look of his face;
the one who tried to kill Lord Krall from our sister gen?”

“Aye,” Khazak answered.

“It makes sense now.  It may not have been the
lame servant caste Spider who gave you the poison, then walked away as if there
was nothing wrong with him.  It may have been that imposter.  Remember, we got
a report that he was last seen fleeing this way?”

“Sire,” Durik interrupted.  “I think you should
know that Troll from my warrior group is involved as well.”

Khazak Mail Fist and Lord Karthan’s chief elite
warrior both looked at Durik.  “Durik, that is quite a charge to make,” Khazak
said.  “What makes you think so?”

“Sire, he wants me to kill someone for whoever
he’s serving.  He mentioned that he’s changing his loyalty to serve a sorcerer,
perhaps this sorcerer you’re talking about.”

The pair of leaders looked at each other.  “Do you
have any proof other than what he said?  And who was he loyal to before?”

Durik shook his head.  “I have no proof, but Troll
said that Trelkar of the Deep Guard was preparing to take over the gen.”

Khazak nodded his head and gave a knowing look to
Lord Karthan’s Chief Elite Warrior.  “Durik, what else did you overhear in the
hall?”

“Sire, one of the kobolds left to chase after
Spider.  It was the kobold who said he had the poison.”

Khazak turned to the chief elite warrior.  “We
just saw Spider.  We found him with the traitor Krobo.”

“Krobo said that Spider wasn’t actually Spider,
but was an imposter,” the chief elite warrior said as he shook his head in
sudden realization.

Khazak got the same realization at almost the
exact same moment.  “And we sent Spider back to here, to the Lord’s House to
gather his mother’s things…”

“Spider and Lord Karthan’s chief bodyguard passed
through these gates not long ago,” one of the guards offered.

“Yearling,” the chief elite warrior said, slapping
Durik on the back.  “You’ve been very helpful.  Go, get your rest, if you can,
but watch your back.  Troll may be counting you as a threat, if you told him
you refused to do his dirty work.  I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.” 
With that Khazak Mail Fist and the chief elite warrior hurried past the guards
and threw open the doors of the Lord’s House.

Mynar fumbled with the keys on the ring for
several moments, cursing Trallik the entire time.  It had been a simple enough
plan; get into the store room and pour the poison into the barrel of Sweet Bark
Cider that Lord Karthan would be breaking out for the celebrations tomorrow.  But
once again his supposed allies had let him down.  Why hadn’t the yearling been
there?

“No matter,” he mumbled to himself as he forced
the next key on Bogat’s key ring into the lock.  Rattling it about a bit, he
cursed his luck and went to the next key.

“Bogat,” a voice startled him from behind.  “What
are you doing getting into the cold storage?”

Mynar turned around, willing his voice to mimic
that of the guard Bogat, even as his face and form renewed the illusion.  Lord
Karthan’s chief elite warrior stood at the entrance to the small cave that
served as an antechamber to the deeper, cool vaults where Lord Karthan’s house
stored its litany of supplies.

“Chief, I was told to… um… to get the Sweet Bark
Cider in preparation for the festivities,” Mynar said.

“Who told you that?”

“Um… it was Khazak Iron Fist,” Mynar replied, not
even noticing his mistake.

The grizzled, veteran warrior’s eyes narrowed. 
Looking the kobold Bogat over head to toe, he noticed a rather large, circular
bulge in his belt pouch.

“What do you have there, Bogat?” he asked.

Mynar’s hand reflexively covered the Krall Stone,
which he had stolen from his own gen.  “Nothing, chief, just some dinner for
later in the shift.”

“Drop your weapons,” the chief elite warrior
commanded as he drew his sword.  “I have reason to suspect that you are not
Bogat, but instead an imposter.”

With a growl, Mynar pulled the translucent ball of
crystal from his belt pouch and took it in both hands.  Focusing his power
through the artifact, he lashed out at the older warrior, invading his mind
with raw power and leaving him dazed and staggering.  It was just enough for
Mynar to sprint past his victim before the old warrior could strike at him.

“Come back here,” the chief elite warrior called
out as he struggled to get to his feet.  By that time Mynar was already out in
the vaulted entrance to the servants’ quarters.

“Greetings, Bogat, how’s the evening?” the pair of
Honor Guard Warriors called out as Mynar approached the front gate.

“Greetings,” he answered.  How strange that they
should be facing
inward
.  Weren’t they supposed to guard the Lord’s
House from
outside
threats?

The pair of Honor Guard warriors looked at each
other.  “Um, eh, stop there Bogat,” one of them said.  “I said, ‘How’s the
evening’.”

Mynar stopped and looked at the pair as they
looked anxiously back at him.  What was wrong here?

“What?” Mynar asked.

“Remember?” one of the two hinted.  “You know…
‘How’s the evening’.”

“Ah, right!” Mynar feigned recognition.  “Ah, I’ve
forgotten the right response.  Here, wait a bit.  I’ll go ask Chief.”

The two guards sighed in relief as Mynar hurried
back down the hall.

“Phew, almost thought that might be the imposter
we’re looking for,” one of them remarked as they watched Mynar walk away.

“Alright, now,” the chief bodyguard called out to
the small huddle of Honor Guard warriors assembled in front of him.  “I think
that’s a simple enough explanation of the imposter we’re looking for.  So,
we’ll search in pairs.  No one leaves until we find him.  Remember, use the new
password in a sentence when challenged, and challenge everyone you see, as he
can look like any of us.”

The warrior known as Bait, as everyone called him
since the day he’d nearly been eaten by a bear, raised his hand.  “What’s the
password again?” he asked.

The chief bodyguard shook his head.  “You idiot, remember,
it has to do with the Trials of Caste tomorrow.  Can you remember it now?”

Bait nodded his head innocently.  The knock on his
head he’d taken a while back had left him without all his faculties, but not
without a job.

“Alright, then,” the chief bodyguard said.  “Now,
I need a volunteer to pass the shift schedule to the guards at the front
entrance, and the guards posted around the perimeter.”

Bait’s hand shot up.

The chief bodyguard chewed his lip for a second. 
“Alright, Bait.  You can do it.  But don’t linger!  Be quick about it!”

Not long after, Bait approached his two fellow
Honor Guard warriors at the entrance to the Lord’s House.  The pair just looked
at each other and rolled their eyes.

“Good evening, Bait,” one of them said.  “Look,
I’ll make this simple.  What’s the password?”

Bait stopped and looked at the pair for a second. 
“Um…” he said for a long moment as he got a ‘thinking’ look on his otherwise
uninteresting features.  “Is it Trials of Caste?”

The pair of Honor Guard Warriors just shook their
heads.  “Close, Bait, but not close enough.”