“Rest easy, dekarian. I know this one’s tricks. We’ll be fine … that is, if we can trust your pet wizard, Golgren.”
That infuriated Tyranos. “By the Kraken! I’m nobody’s pet or slave.”
Faros’s brow furrowed. He stared at Tyranos, whose eyes blazed.
“Keep your word and you’ll have no trouble from me,” the spellcaster finally murmured.
Faros nodded, seeming to take the wizard’s word far more readily than Golgren’s. To his nemesis, the emperor said, “And now? Will you tell us why you’ve committed this madness?”
The half-breed grinned coldly. “Your legionaries, they do not appear to obey you very readily.”
Faros looked over his shoulder to where the dekarian and other soldiers stood near two high, bronze doors bearing the condor symbol. The emperor did not look pleased with his followers. “I ordered you away!”
“My lord! It is Golgren!” the officer persisted. “You yourself have placed a price on his head matched by no other enemy of the state! His description”-the dekarian pointed his sword toward the maimed stump-“has been committed to memory by every legionary! All know his connection to the Lady Nephera and her foul scion, Ardnor-begging your pardon, my lady!”
Maritia wore an expression of distaste, but it was not meant for the officer. There had been little familial care between her and Nephera’s eldest. He had been his mother’s son-a monstrous creature of the darkness, willing to serve the god Morgion. “No offense taken, dekarian, but do as your emperor commands.” Her hand went to her own sword. “We have the situation well in hand.”
There was no arguing with the reputations of the imperial pair. The guards retreated from the chamber.
There stood but the four-or perhaps three as Tyranos appeared not at all eager to be a part of the conversation. He stepped to the far corner, never taking his eyes off the trio. One hand loosely held the staff, the other was turned fingers down and open palm toward the minotaurs.
“You know our ancient sign of parley,” Maritia noted with a hint of approval. “Even most of our own no longer recall it.”
“I have no hidden intentions,” the wizard snapped back.
The empress shrugged; her interest returned to Golgren. There had been rumors the grand lord had once been fascinated by her, despite their great differences. The female Uruv Suurt had never returned his affection; her loathing for her former ally was well-displayed in her narrowing eyes and slightly flaring nostrils. “Well, Golgren? What is it you want this time? The removal of our legions from your southern lands?”
“In time, yes, but they are convenient where they are. The quicker to send them to where I desire.”
Faros laughed. “Where you desire? Are you now emperor?”
“No,” responded the half-breed with a slight bow, “but I will save your empire.”
Both minotaurs glared. Faros exchanged glances with his mate then rumbled, “And in what manner will you save us? This should be entertaining.”
“Why, I will save you from the Titans, naturally.”
Despite attempting to appear otherwise, the mention of the sorcerers clearly disturbed the imperial couple. Nostrils flaring, Faros rubbed the underside of his muzzle. “And of what concern are the Titans to us?”
“The emperor is no fool,” Golgren baldly stated, absently touching his severed hand, “and should not treat me so. The Uruv Suurt, they deal with a warlord who is the puppet of the Titans. You know this, of course?”
“We had some gleaning of that just recently,” Faros admitted. “We have just learned of this Atolgus.”
At mention of Atolgus’s name, Golgren’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. There was no saving the young chieftain; Golgren considered him only another enemy.
“What does it matter?” Maritia snapped. “Better to let the ogres feud among themselves, and in the end there will be less of them!”
The emperor shook his head at his mate. “You know that you don’t believe what you are saying. You know that we were discussing this … situation … only yesterday.”
Maritia’s expression indicated that what they chose to discuss in private was hardly a matter to be brought up before the hated half-breed.
“Your spies,” Golgren corrected, “were misled. The Titans are very good at misleading.”
“It seems a common ogre trait,” Maritia countered.
In response, the deposed Grand Khan went down on one knee. He bent his head low and extended his hand and the maimed limb to the sides.
“My life is my bond in this,” he stated solemnly. “All I speak will be truth, and all which I agree to will stand, or my spirit will walk with both hands severed.”
Faros gripped the hilt of his weapon. “I know that oath. There were ogres who followed me from Sahd’s work camp who uttered that oath, although not with such flair of words.” Again, he rubbed the underside of his muzzle. “Sargonnas take me for a fool, but I’ll grant you at least the chance to speak.”
Maritia reluctantly nodded. She respected Faros’s opinion on that point, even if the giver of the oath was Golgren.
“Atolgus is the puppet of the Titans; he has given the capital to them and, thus, all of Golthuu.”
“Golthuu.” The emperor chuckled. “‘The Dream of Golgren.’”
Ignoring the mockery, the half-breed went on. “The Uruv Suurt are useful now to the Titans, for they keep my loyal warriors at bay. The offer no doubt was that all southern lands were to be given to the empire, yes?”
“To create a better buffer for Ambeon,” Faros answered, referring to the minotaurs’ mainland colony and the former elf homeland of Silvanost. The realm had been taken by the forces of Hotak, but Faros had deemed keeping them invaluable to his race.
“But the Titans, once they do not need you, you will follow me to doom. They will take the empire, and they will make the Uruv Suurt once more the slaves of the ogre race.”
That last brought a look of intense bitterness to Faros’s gaze. The worst fate for his people-even worse than being the slaves of humans-would be a return to enslavement under the ogres. There was no other race that drew such enmity from the horned warriors. The ogres had been the taskmasters of old.
“Never again,” growled Maritia. “Never again.”
Her mate nodded. “We are speaking of powerful sorcerers, though-”
“And more powerful yet,” Golgren interjected. “For they have that which the god Sirrion fashioned, a thing to give them power over all change.”
“And we have you, not a very good balance. We’ll fight them, though we know we’ll lose. We have no spellcasters. There is no honor in such.”
Golgren tossed Tyranos a wicked grin. “No.”
The wizard glared at them all but otherwise kept silent.
“You don’t offer us much,” the empress pointed out. “Yourself and this … this human. What do you expect in return for that?”
The half-breed’s face was all innocence. “I expect the Uruv Suurt to continue to march into Golthuu.”
Faros snorted. “When we knowingly face the Titans? You wish us to create a distraction for them while you try to regain your realm! You want legionaries to give their lives all for your sake!”
Golgren replied evenly, “You already make incursions, and soon those legions will be set upon by the Titans and your false ally, Atolgus. Would it not be better for your incursions to remain successful … for the sake of Ambeon and the empire?”
“What do you mean?”
“No one knows Golthuu better than Golgren,” the half-breed declared with a baring of his teeth. “The legions, they would find that there are better routes, more profitable routes, than those which they use now.”
The emperor glanced at Maritia. There was no denying that Golgren was more familiar than any ogre with the terrain of his homeland. He had made it a priority in his rise to power. To know the lay of the land was to know its strengths and weaknesses.
“You interest me,” Faros finally returned to him.