When Perian was born, her mother retired from active duty and devoted herself to raising her only child. She had been indulgent to Perian, and often wistful around the child. Per ian's father, on the other hand, had been emotionally distant from both of them — a proper dwarf soldier, Perian had al ways thought. Given her family, she had encountered no difficulty joining the House Guard — about ten percent of its troopers were female — or rising quickly to the rank of ser geant. That was when Pitrick, the oily adviser to the thane, had first entered her life.
He had confronted her with evidence of her true origin, in the form of letters from her mother to a Hylar soldier — her mother's secret lover. According to Pitrick, that illicit union had produced Perian. As far as she was aware, no one but her, her mother, and Pitrick knew that she was neither a full blooded derro nor the daughter of the bold warrior whose reputation was known far and wide. It was true that Perian's ruddy skin and auburn hair were slightly unusual for a full blooded derro. It was equally true that the House Guard of the Theiwar required its members to be racially pure. Perian dreaded the day Pitrick would use his information as the ul timate blackmail. Perian had no way to confirm her circum stances of birth. But she had to admit the sample of her mother's handwriting was genuine and, as the rank of cap tain loomed before her, this information had placed her in Pitrick's power. So far, she had always managed to call the adviser's bluff without goading him into action, but he was too unstable and dangerous to be taken for granted.
Many times Perian had wondered whether her father was naturally distant, or whether he had suspected the truth.
She wished her mother had never written those letters, had not been so foolish, just as she often pondered how power ful an emotion love could be, to make someone like her mother risk everything.
Eventually she reached the lift that would take her into the noble's quarters, high in the upper level of the city. Pit rick was no noble by birth, but as adviser to the thane he was considered the second most important dwarf in the Theiwar city. An iron cage descended to meet her now, and she stepped inside. With a steady clanking, the chain-and pulley mechanism carried her up for a hundred feet through a hollow column in the mountain.
When it stopped she stepped onto the terrace of the no ble's plaza. Perian ignored the view over the wall, where much of the underground Theiwar city could be seen in its splendor — the neatly squared streets, high walls, thick columns, houses and shops, blanketing the floor of the ca vern. She strode to the doors and was instantly admitted.
She was greeted by a disfigured, cloaked servant, but his master quickly came into the antechamber and viciously sent the servant scurrying away. As always, the hunch back's stare discomforted her.
"Good news," said Pitrick, clapping his hands delightedly together. "You are assigned to me, now — I am your commander!"
Perian felt a chill of apprehension shiver along her spine.
"In what capacity?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain level.
"We are increasing the guards at the mouth of the wagon tunnel! Come now, don't pretend surprise. You know of its existence. You will be placed in command." Pitrick's sparse beard could not hide his leer. The hump on his back forced him to bend forward, and thus he was always looking up at her.
"I prefer to remain with my old billet, the training of the guard," she objected.
Pitrick leaned closer, his dank breath moist against her face. "I grow tired of your game, my dear. Keep in mind that I could have you ruined with a single word!"
"Then do it!" Perian shot back.
With a sneer, Pitrick stepped away and looked her up and down. "You know me too well, dear girl. Still, perhaps I shall, someday. Perhaps I shall, if you continue baiting me this way," Perian noted, his hand clasping the iron amulet that always hung from his neck. Blue light began seeping be tween his fingers.
"You will do good work for me," the hunchback said softly. Perian's head grew light, and she was surprised at the musical pleasantness of his voice. Perhaps she had mis judged him.
The blue light grew stronger, occluding her vision until only Pitrick's face loomed. She felt his hot breath against her face. Her soldier's training told her, dimly, that she should resist. She felt Pitrick's hand reach around to the back of her mail shirt. His breath, heavy with nut fungus, pressed moist and smelly around her face.
Suddenly her head jerked upward. Her left hand shot for ward, knocking the amulet from Pitrick's grasp, as she wrapped her right hand around the small axe at her waist.
She clenched her teeth as her head cleared.
"Wait," Pitrick urged, his voice still soft.
But the spell was broken. Perian's hateful gaze brought the hunchback up short.
"If you ever try to magic me again, I'll kill you," she growled.
Pitrick looked at her, his moment of surprise quickly turning to amusement. "It's time for you to go down to your new post now," he instructed. "Have a look around, estab lish your guards. I'll be down soon to inspect your position.
"If there is any sign of intrusion, or even the hint of a hill dwarf anywhere around there, I want you to tell me person ally. And if you catch any intruders, bring them to me immediately!"
"I will," said Perian, quickly turning on her heel. Only when the lift cage had taken her down a level did she finally draw a breath easily.
Chapter 8
The pnominent nostrils twitched, tickled by an un familiar, yet tantalizing odor. One great eye, bloodshot and sunk deep within its socket, opened. The lid, of green, leath ery skin, blinked several times, and then its counterpart opened. Once again the long green nose moved, seeking confirmation of the scent.
The body that slowly rose to a sitting position was hu manoid, though perhaps half again as tall as a man. But its features were hideous in the extreme.
Gangly arms, each as long as a man was tall, hung from the creature's shoulders. Though they were proportionately slender, a wiry cord of muscle showed beneath the mottled green skin, promising great strength. The creature's legs, too, were revealed as long and thin, but they had no diffi culty supporting the monster as it rose to stand.
Its hands and feet each bore three wicked claws, with fin gers partially webbed. Blotchy skin, the color of dark moss, covered its whole body. In places it was smooth, but in oth ers the skin lay wrinkled, a rough, warty surface.
Atop the creature's head was a thicket of black, stiff standing hair. Its mouth opened slightly and revealed upper and lower rows of pointed, needle-sharp teeth. Above its mouth, extending more like a tree limb than a nasal aper ture, was the creature's long, pointed nose.
It was this sensitive proboscis that had caused the mon ster to awaken, and now it probed the air, sniffing and snuf fling for clues. What was that tantalizing scent? Where did it come from?
The creature's lair was a cave, and a slight breeze wafted into the cave mouth from the valley below. The source of the scent, obviously, was outside the lair.
Moving through the dingy cave, the monster passed nu merous scattered, well-gnawed bones of previous meals.
Skulls of deer, bear, hobgoblin, human, and other victims stood along the wall of the cave, making a crude trophy mound. But now the creature ignored all of these memen tos, moving toward the fresh air in search of new food, per haps a new skull.
The creature emerged to discover twilight settling over the high valley. The spoor came more clearly now, and the great beast licked its lips with a black, moist tongue. Its dark eyes, almost hidden in the deep recesses of its black sockets, squinted into the darkness, searching for the source of the tantalizing odor.