“We-do you mean all the thirdlings or a substantial majority?” Rodario tried to pin him down to specifics. “It would be interesting to learn what the minority might get up to? And what about the freelings? Where are they?”
Barskalin broke in: “They’ve dug themselves in in the last of their cities and are fighting off the thirdlings…”
“Aha!” said Rodario. “There you are, you see! The thirdlings are still attacking the other tribes.” He folded his arms belligerently. “I don’t see, with all due respect, any change in their attitude.”
“That will be because I haven’t issued any commands to them to stop what they are doing.” All heads swiveled round to Tungdil. “If the thirdlings suddenly changed their tune the alfar would smell a rat. Then Aiphaton’s plan would be jeopardized and the northern alfar would be suspicious, too. That’s why I haven’t told them to stop their attacks. I can’t do that before Aiphaton has set out with his army. The freelings will just have to bide their time and hold them off.”
Nobody dared to respond.
Finally, Ireheart cleared his throat. “So, tomorrow we’ll set off to Lohasbrand’s hideout. We’ll pinch his best bits of treasure and then hie ourselves off to the magus. As soon as we hear from the emperor of the black-eyes, we’ll send off some riders to order the thirdlings and the other dwarf-tribes to get to the south to capture a weakened Lot-Ionan.” He looked at the queen. “With your help.”
“Neatly summed up,” commented Rodario. “I’m with you.”
“Me too,” said Mallenia. “Idoslane will do its bit to free Girdlegard just as it did under my ancestor. We can’t provide an army, but I can fight for you. The rest of my resistance fighters will deal with any alfar still at large. I’ll write to them straightaway. They will watch for a suitable opportunity.”
“Good.” Tungdil seemed satisfied.
Rodario put up his hand again. “How would it be if we were to announce to the people, and not just to the resistance, that Girdlegard is about to be liberated? If we have supporters who have sniffed the wind of freedom and want to rise up against the Lohasbrander and the last vassals of the alfar, they’ll be unstoppable.”
“Girdlegard’s too big for that,” Tungdil contradicted him.
“Somebody shove something in that actor’s mouth. Preferably something sharp,” murmured Hargorin.
Rodario pointed to his throat. “If I had an ugly beard like yours I’d be more careful who I insulted.”
Ireheart grimaced. Dwarves normally enjoyed a joke, even quite earthy ones, but you could not ridicule a dwarf’s beard with impunity. Mockery and fire were the worst enemies of a beard. “Stop that now if you want to get out of here with your life and fine features intact,” he called to him quietly. “Apologize to him…”
Hargorin had sprung up to confront the actor. “You’re just desperate for a beating, aren’t you?” he yelled, waving his fists.
“Forgive me,” said Rodario nicely to the two ladies, then he shot out his foot, fished out the tip of the long beard in question, grabbed it with his right hand and yanked. His left arm flew up and his elbow crashed against the dwarf’s forehead, making him gasp.
Rodario slipped out of his seat without letting go of the beard, pulling Hargorin after him. He pushed his feet against the dwarf’s stomach and overturned him so that he landed on his back on the wooden floor.
The actor did a backwards somersault and ended up sitting on the dwarf’s barrel chest, still holding the beard, which he pulled sharply to one side. Once he had anchored it under his foot the dwarf was completely helpless.
Ireheart had been taken as much by surprise as all the others in the room.
From somewhere or other Rodario had pulled out a knife and was holding it at the dwarf’s exposed neck. “I think it’s a real shame that one is considered a true man only if one can either fight or go round grabbing all the women in sight,” he breathed, but his eyes were hard and were watching for any movement his opponent might attempt. “I’ve convinced you now, haven’t I, Hargorin Deathbringer?”
Mallenia’s picture of the helpless failed actor disappeared in a puff of smoke and Coira saw him in a totally new light. The women stared at him wondering how this change could have been so sudden. It could only have been that the previous incarnation had been a deceit.
Cool as a cucumber, Rodario let go of the beard, stood up and offered Hargorin his hand.
The thirdling got up without accepting any help. The shame had been too deeply felt and his beard had suffered, too.
Ireheart knew that the leader of the Black Squadron was never likely to forgive Rodario for this. Blood will be spilt.
“A charming interlude indeed,” commented Slin happily.
“Tell us how an actor learns to fight like that,” Tungdil challenged Rodario.
“And why you took so much trouble not to look like your forefather,” added Coira. “If I think of you with a beard and mustache you’re the spitting image of him.”
“That’s just what I said,” mumbled Ireheart. “As soon as I saw him clamber on board.”
Rodario returned to his seat and bowed to the ladies. “I must apologize to both of you, because I have been playing a part up till now. But now it is time to remove the veil from the secret of the unknown poet.”
“You? You say that was you?” Coira exclaimed, laughing in disbelief. She looked at him full of curiosity. “You’re having us on.”
“Impossible,” said Mallenia at once. “You…” She stopped, in confusion.
Rodario bowed as if facing an adoring audience of theatergoers. “But, yes, indeed, I am the unknown poet,” he answered. “Who would ever have suspected me-me who resembled fabulous forefather Rodario so little-of being the freedom-fighter and rabble-rouser, slayer of Lohasbranders and their orcs? Deception provides the best protection, as always.”
Ireheart could not stop himself looking across at Tungdil when he heard these words-and he noted a sly smile playing round his friend’s lips. Only coincidence, he fervently hoped.
Rodario stroked his prominent chin. “I noticed very soon how similar my looks were to those of my famous ancestor. On stage in Idoslane, Tabain and Gauragar I never wore make-up, but when the performances were over I would put on my disguise,” he laughed, sitting down. “I made myself act the fool and lost the competitions on purpose, wanting to make sure nobody credited me with any intelligence.”
Coira pictured him that night when they had met in the tower in Mifurdania. “I really did have you down as a clumsy loser and clown,” she said in surprise. “And I bet you do know how to ride?”
“Well, yes, I do, Your Majesty,” he replied. “It was a role I was playing. And of course I do know how to swim or I would never have survived the fall from the walls of the shaft.”
“A real hero,” said Mallenia with a grin. “There we were, thinking the poor man was needing help, when all along he’s a trained fighter. And a good one, at that, as I’ve just seen.”
Rodario winked at her. “Thank you… must I say ‘Your Highness’ to you?” She dismissed the thought with a gesture. “But that is only part of the truth. Because there is not just the one unknown poet.”
“What are you going on about?” Ireheart frowned. “You just told us…”
“There isn’t just the one.” Rodario raised his forefinger, smiling as he did so. “The competition in Mifurdania is a brilliant front for us all. The descendants of the Incredible Rodario have been working for freedom ever since the Dragon took over. Whether male or female, we have dedicated ourselves to the fight for liberty and have been working against the occupying powers wherever we go with our traveling theaters. We hang our poems on doors and walls and keep the thought of freedom alive in people’s hearts. We can travel everywhere in Lohasbrand’s conquered lands and we fight the Dragon with our own means.” He took a gulp of wine. “The competition serves the purpose of letting us exchange news, write new lines, make new plans. We are always ready to support the people against the vassals of the Scaly One as soon as the gods grant us an opportunity. We know their weaknesses, their habits, their secret camps-everything!” He lifted his glass in salute and toasted Tungdil. “Thanks to you, Tungdil Goldhand, the opportunity has now arrived. The gods have sent you to us.” He drank to Tungdil’s health and the assembled company joined in the toast.