“I’m sorry, Your Lordship, but I did not think of it as having a name,” Bartholomew answered.
“It?” Crispin asked. “You are referring to the archimage’s visitor as an it? My, that seems a bit contemptuous, even for you, Bartholomew.” The djinn grinned; he loved tormenting the chamberlain.
“I have no better word, Your Lordship.”
Randolf shook his head. “Very well; show him in.”
The chamberlain turned and left the doorway.
“This should be amusing. He seemed rather in a flap,” Crispin noted.
In a few moments, Bartholomew returned and announced, “The sword Ruiden, Your Lordship.”
Randolf frowned at the very odd title, then his eyebrows shot up when he actually saw the guest. It was a metal golem.
“What in the seven realms?” Crispin muttered from the other side of the table as Ruiden entered the terrace.
Bartholomew turned and left.
“Thank you for seeing me, Archimage,” Ruiden said, nodding to Randolf. He then turned his head and nodded to Crispin. “Djinn.”
Crispin blinked in surprise at his disguise being blown. “You know I am a djinn?”
“Yes; it is clear looking at your aura,” Ruiden said.
“You are good,” Randolf stated softly, leaning back, confident that the golem, or whatever it was, was not going to attack. Although it looked quite deadly.
“You are a sword, I believe Bartholomew said?” Randolf asked.
“I am. I am Ruiden, Sword of Talarius, Knight Rampant of Tiernon,” Ruiden stated.
“And what brings you here this day?” Randolf asked. He gestured to the pot of tea and plate of sandwiches. “Would you care to join us?”
“Thank you, but I do not digest,” the sword said. “I am investigating the abduction of Talarius.”
“Ahh,” Randolf said, but then gave the sword a questioning look. “It makes sense you would undertake such an investigation, but I am not sure why you would need to speak with me. I was inside the city during the fight and abduction.”
“Correct,” Ruiden said. “That corroborates what I have already learned. However, you are the employer of Exador, who was outside the city, on a flying carpet with Ramses the Damned and an unknown woman.”
“Yes, he does work for me, loosely. However, I have no idea why he was out on the carpet,” Randolf said. “You would probably need to inquire with him.”
“I intend to; however, he is not here now,” Ruiden said. Randolf nodded. “Moreover, from information I have gathered, it appears that there is a high probability that Exador may be responsible for the demons within the city, and therefore that the demon that abducted Talarius may be an associate of his.”
“Ahh, so you think Exador might have summoned the demon?” Crispin said.
The sword looked at the djinn. “It has already been established and admitted to that Lenamare summoned this demon most recently and had a binding to him. However, the demon that abducted Talarius was well beyond what Lenamare believes he summoned. I suspect that the demon may have been working with Exador against Lenamare.”
“Interesting,” Randolf said, nodding. “So you think there was a previous binding between Exador and the demon.”
Ruiden looked at the archimage. Randolf would have guessed that the sword was puzzled, but its expressions were too hard to decipher. “Why are you prevaricating? My analysis shows a 98.4 percent chance that the three individuals on the carpet were the three archdemons identified by Talarius’s mirror. The Council suspects this, and you yourself are working on spells to bind an archdemon. I would presume that it is Exador you intend to trap and bind.”
Crispin suddenly choked on a sip of tea.
Rupert rounded another corner; this hallway was also empty except for some doors to the right and left. It ended in a large spiral staircase going upward. He was exploring the vast underground complex. Svartbart, Hezbarg’s apprentice, had told him that it should be perfectly safe to wander the main corridors. Any private rooms would be locked, and all the D’Orcs knew who he was, so none would bother him. Svartbart had also given him a loop to go around his neck with a small pouch on it. The pouch contained multiple scented salts that the hounds could detect and recognize him as a friend, and thus not eat him.
Hezbarg’s other assistant, Shebolla, had led a party out to the chasm room to go down and bring up the hounds they had tossed down the chasm. The problem was the hydra hounds did not fly, and so the dogs, or parts of them, that were thrown down the chasm would regenerate, but then not be able get back out. If that happened, once regenerated they were likely to howl nonstop until someone came to retrieve them. Better to do that upfront rather than have to put up with incessant howling.
There were a number of large barracks chambers similar to the one they had seen earlier. These were where the single D’Orcs lived; at least the more junior ones. There were a number of private rooms where families lived. Svartbart had also indicated that each commander had his or her own room regardless of marital status. What was interesting was that from what he had seen, the D’Orcs actually slept. Tizzy and everyone had been chiding him for sleeping, but many of the D’Orcs slept as well.
There were also numerous training halls and workout halls with balls of various weights as well as ropes and metal bars. He had stopped to watch D’Orcs training a couple of times. Everyone had been very respectful of him. Rupert thought back to the fight with the hounds. It would probably be useful to get some real combat training. His dad was too preoccupied with all the insanity around them, so maybe he could find some D’Orcs to train him.
He climbed the stairs to the next floor and stepped off quickly, nearly colliding with a short D’Orc. “Ack!” The D’Orc made a surprised noise, but then recognized Rupert. Rupert blinked and recognized the short D’Orc as well. It was the one they had surprised in the hallway that had set off the alarm.
“Hey!” Rupert said. “We meet again.”
“Yeah.” The D’Orc suddenly looked very nervous and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for running like that. I have shamed myself and my lineage.”
“Don’t worry about that!” Rupert said, making a waving motion. “Given how things worked out, your running and alerting everyone was the best option. If you’d stood and fought, well...”
“I’d be dead,” the D’Orc said morosely.
“Well, I’d hope not. You’re a kid like me, right?” Rupert asked.
The D’Orc nodded somberly. “I’m Fer-Rog, son of Zelda, and I have ten Abyssal years.”
“Cool!” Rupert said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Rupert, you know my dad too, and I’m, well... I don’t know, about twelve Astlanian years, roughly. I don’t know what that is in Abyssal years.”
Fer-Rog stared suspiciously at the hand for a moment and then awkwardly shook it.
“Your mom is the Steward of the Mount?” Rupert asked; Fer-Rog nodded his head. “Then we should definitely hang out, as I’m sure your mom and my dad will be working together a lot.” Rupert paused for a moment. “Who is your dad?”
Fer-Rog frowned. “My sire was Ser-Rog of the Bear Clan of Verasai.”
“Was?” Rupert asked, concerned.
Fer-Rog nodded. “He fell in combat during the last raid of the Lilith Spawn, a few days before my birth. He died trying save the life of my grandfather, Trogthor, the Steward of the Mountain. Neither regenerated, and my mother became steward that day.”
“I’m sorry,” Rupert said, and then frowned. “Wait, you said they didn’t regenerate? Why not?” Even the hydra hounds regenerated.