"Magic?" Kaer'lic asked. "Dwarves possess little magic, by all accounts."
"They had some here, as far as T can discern," Ad'non insisted. "The orcs spoke of a great cat that felled the giant, one that apparently disappeared after doing its murderous business."
Off to the side, Tos'un perked up. "A black cat?"
The other three looked at the Menzoberranyr refugee.
"Yes," Ad'non confirmed, and Tos'un nodded knowingly.
"Drizzt Do'Urden's cat," he explained.
"The renegade?" Kaer'lic asked, suddenly seeming quite interested.
"Yes, with a magical panther that he stole from Menzoberranzan. Very formidable."
"The panther?"
"Yes, and Drizzt Do'Urden," Tos'un explained. "He is no enemy to be taken lightly, and one who threatens not only the orcs and giants on the battleground, but those quietly behind the orcs and giants as well."
"Lovely," Kaer'lic said sarcastically.
"He was among the greatest of Melee-Magthere's graduates," Tos'un explained, "and further trained by Zaknafein, who was regarded as the greatest weapons master in all the city. If he was at that battle, it explains much about why the orcs were so readily defeated."
"This one drow can sway the tide of battle against a host of orcs and a foursome of giants?" Ad'non asked doubtfully.
"No," Tos'un admitted, "but if Drizzt was there, then so was —»
"King Bruenor," Donnia reasoned. "The renegade is Bruenor's closest friend and advisor, yes?"
"Yes," Tos'un confirmed. "Likely the pair had some other powerful friends with them."
"So Bruenor is out of Mithral Hall and roaming the frontier with a small force?" Donnia asked, a wry smile widening on her beautiful face. "How fine an opportunity is this?"
"To strike a wicked blow against Mithral Hall?" Ad'non asked, following the reasoning.
"And to keep Gerti interested in pursuing our present course," said Donnia.
"Or to show our hand too clearly and bring the wrath of powerful enemies upon us," said the ever-cynical Kaer'lic.
"Why priestess, I fear that you have grown too fond of luxury, and too forgetting of the pleasures of chaos," Ad'non said, his growing smile matching Donnia's. "Can you really so easily allow this opportunity for fun and profit pass you by?"
Kaer'lic started to respond several times but retreated from every reply before she ever voiced it.
"I find little pleasure in dealing with the smelly orcs," the priestess said, "or with Gerti and her band, who think they are so positively superior, even to us. More pleasure would I find if we turned Obould against Gerti and let the giants and the orcs slaughter each other. Then we four could quietly kill all those left alive."
"And we would be alone up here, in abject boredom," said Ad'non.
"True enough," Kaer'lic admitted. "So be it. Let us fester this war between the dwarves and our allies. With King Bruenor out of his hole, we may indeed find an interesting course before us, but with all caution! I did not leave the Underdark to fall victim to a dwarven axe, or to the blade of a drow traitor."
The others nodded, sharing the sentiment, particularly Tos'un, who had seen so many of his fellows fall before the armies of Mithral Hall.
"I will go to Gerti and soften the blow of this present disaster," Donnia said.
"And I back to Obould," said Ad'non. "T will wait for your signal before sending the orc king to speak with the giantess."
They departed at once, eagerly, leaving Kaer'lic alone with Tos'un.
"We are winding our way into a deep chasm," the priestess observed. "If our allies betray us at the end of a dwarven spear, then our flight will by necessity be long and swift."
Tos'un nodded. He had been there once before.
Obould's every step was forced as he made his way through the caverns of Gerti's complex, very conscious of the many scowls the frost giant sentries were throwing his way. Despite Ad'non's assurances, Obould knew that the giants had been told of their losses. These creatures weren't like his own race, the orc king understood. They valued every one of their clan, every one of their kind. The frost giants would not easily dismiss the deaths of four of their kin.
When the orc king walked into Gerti's chamber, he found the giantess sitting on her stone throne, one elbow on her knee, her delicate chin in her hand, her blue eyes staring straight ahead, unblinking.
The orc walked up, stopping out of the giant's reach, fearing that Gerti would snap her hand out and throttle him. He resisted the urge to speak out about the disaster and decided that he would be better off waiting for Gerti to start the conversation.
He waited for a long, long while.
"Where are their bodies?" Gerti finally asked.
"Where they fell."
Gerti looked up at him, her eyes going even wider, as if her rage was boiling over behind them.
"My warriors can not begin to carry them," Obould quickly explained. "I will have them buried in cairns where they fell, if you desire. I thought you would wish to bring them back here."
That explanation seemed to calm Gerti considerably. She even rested back in her seat and nodded her chin at him as he finished his explanation.
"You will have your warriors lead my chosen to them."
"Course I will," said Obould.
"I was told that it is possible your son's rash actions may have brought powerful enemies upon the band," Gerti remarked.
Obould shrugged. "It is possible. I was not there."
"Your son survived?"
Obould nodded.
"He fled the fight, along with many of your kin."
There was no mistaking the accusatory edge that had come into Gerti's voice.
"They had only one of your kin with them when the battle was joined, and that giant went down fast," Obould was quick to reply, knowing that he could not let Gerti go down this road with him if he wanted to get out of that place with his head still on his shoulders. "The other three wandered off the night before without telling anyone."
From Gerti's expression, the orc recognized that he had parsed those words correctly, rightly redistributing the blame for the disaster without openly accusing the giants of any failings.
"Do we know where the dwarves went after the fight?"
"We know they did not head straight out for Mithral Hall," Obould explained. "My scouts have found no sign of their march to the south or east."
"They are still in our mountains?"
"I'm thinking that, yeah," said the orc.
"Then find them!" Gerti demanded. "I have a score to settle, and I always make it a point to pay my enemies back in full."
Obould fought the desire to let a grin widen on his face, understanding that Gerti needed this to remain solemn and serious. Still, containing the excitement building within him was no easy task. He could see from Gerti's eyes and could tell from the tone of her voice that this defeat would not hold for long, that she and her giants would become even more committed to the fight.
King Obould wondered if his dwarf counterpart had any idea of the catastrophe that was about to drop on him.
CHAPTER 13 THERE, I SAID IT…
A slight shift of Torgar's head sent the heavy fist sailing past, and the dwarf wasted no time in turning around and biting the attacker hard on the forearm. His opponent, another dwarf, waved that bitten arm frantically while punching hard with the other, but tough Torgar accepted the beating and bit down harder, driving in close to lessen the impact of the blows.
Pushing, twisting, and driving on with his powerful legs, Torgar took his opponent right over a table and chair. The two of them crashed down hard, wood splintering around them.
They weren't the only dwarves in the tavern who were fighting. Fists and bottles flew wildly, foreheads pounded against foreheads, and more than one table or chair went up in the air, to come crashing down on an opponent's head.