"She wasn't the one who told me," Agrathan answered.
"Then who?"
"Not important," the dwarf replied. "If you intend to hunt any who'd speak of this, then ye'd do better trying to hold water from dripping through your fingers."
Elastul didn't seem pleased at all by that remark, and he turned a frown upon Djaffar, who merely shrugged.
"This is important, Marchion," Agrathan said. "Torgar is not just any citizen."
"Torgar is not a citizen," Elastul corrected. "Not anymore, and by his own volition. I am charged with the defense of Mirabar, and so I have taken steps to just that effect. He is jailed, and he shall remain jailed until such time as he recants his position on this matter, publicly, and forsakes this ludicrous idea of traveling to Mithral Hall."
Agrathan started to respond, but Elastul cut him off.
"There is no debate over this, Councilor."
Agrathan looked to Shoudra for support, but she shrugged and shook her head.
And so it was. Marchion Elastul considered Mithral Hall an enemy, obviously, and every step he took seemed to ensure that his perception would become reality.
Both Agrathan and Shoudra hoped that Elastul understood fully the implications of this latest action, for both feared the reaction should the truth of Torgar's imprisonment become general knowledge around the city.
The dwarf's remark about hot embers in a smokepowder filled room seemed quite insightful to Shoudra Stargleam at that moment.
CHAPTER 16 THE HERO
Catti-brie crept silently to the edge of the rocky lip, peering over. As she had expected, the orc's camp lay below her on a flat rock with strewn boulders all around it. There wasn't much of a fire, just a pit of glowing embers. The orcs huddled close to it, blocking most of the glow.
Catti-brie scanned the area, allowing her eyes to shift into the spectrum of heat instead of light, and she was glad that she had her magical circlet with her when she spotted the soft glow of a second orc, not so far away, whittling away at a broken branch. She did a quick scan of the area then let her vision shift back to the normal spectrum. Her circlet was a marvelous item indeed, one that helped her to see in the dark, but it was not without its limitations. It operated far better underground, allowing her vision where she would have had none at all than under the night sky. When the stars were out or near the glow of a fire, the magical circlet often only added to the woman's confusion, distorting distances, particularly on heat-neutral surfaces such as broken stones.
Catti-brie paused and stood perfectly still, her eyes unblinking as they adjusted to the dim light. She had already picked a route that would take her down to the orc and had confirmed that route with the magical circlet, intending to go down and capture or slay the creature.
But now there were two.
Catti-brie reached instinctively for Taulmaril as she considered the new odds, but her hand stopped short of grabbing the bow that was strapped across her back. Her fingers remained swollen and bruised, with at least one broken. After practicing earlier that day, she knew she could hardly hope to hit the orcs from that distance.
She went to Khazid'hea instead. Her fabulous sword, nicknamed Cutter because of its fine and deadly blade, could shear through armor as easily as it could cut through cloth. She felt the energy, the eagerness, of the sentient, hungry sword as soon as her hand closed around the hilt. Khazid'hea wanted this fight, as it wanted any fight.
That pull only strengthened as she slowly and silently slid the sword out of its scabbard, holding it low behind the rocky barricade. Its fine edge could catch the slightest glimmer of light and reflect it clearly.
The sword's hunger called out to her, bade her to start moving down the trail and toward the first victim.
Catti-brie almost started away, but she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. She should go and get some of the others, she realized. Drizzt had gone off" earlier, but her other friends could not be far away.
it is only a pair of orcs after all, and if you strike first and fast, it will be one against one, she thought—or perhaps it was her sword suggesting that thought to her.
Either way, it seemed a logical argument to Cattie-brie. She had never met an orc that could match her in swordplay.
Before she could further second-guess herself, Catti-brie slipped out from behind the rocky lip and started slowly and quietly down the nearest trail that would get her to the plateau and the encampment.
Soon she was at the orc's level and barely ten feet away. The oblivious creature remained huddled over the embers, stirring them occasionally, while its equally-oblivious companion continued its whittling far to the side. She moved a half step closer, then another. Barely five feet separated her from the orc then. Apparently sensing her, the creature looked up, gave a cry —
– and fell over backward, rolling and scrambling as Catti-brie stuck it, once and again, before having to turn back to face its charging companion.
The second orc skidded to a stop when Khazid'hea flashed up before it in perfect balance. The orc stabbed viciously with its crude spear, but Catti-brie easily turned her hips aside. It struck again, to similar non-effect, then came forward, retracted suddenly, and thrust again, this time to the anticipated side.
The wrong side.
Catti-brie dodged the second thrust, then started to dodge the third, but stopped as the orc retracted, and dodged out the other way as the spear charged ahead.
She had her chance, and it was one she didn't miss. Across went Khazid'hea, the fabulous blade cleanly shearing the last fool off the orc's spear. The creature howled and jumped back, throwing the remaining shaft at the woman as it did, but a flick of Catti-brie's wrist had that spear shaft spinning off into the darkness.
She rushed ahead, sword leading, ready to thrust the blade into the orc's chest.
And she stopped, abruptly, as a stone whistled across, right before her.
And as she turned to face this newest attacker, she got hit in the back by a second stone, thrown hard.
And a third skipped by, and a fourth hit her square in the shoulder, and her arm, suddenly gone numb, slipped down.
Ores crawled over the strewn rocks all around the encampment, waving their weapons and throwing more rocks to keep her dancing and off-balance.
Catti-brie's mind raced. She could hardly believe that she had so foolishly walked into a trap. She felt Khazid'hea's continuing urging to her to jump into battle, to slay them all, and wondered for a moment how much control she actually held over the ever-hungry sword.
But no, she realized, this was her mistake and not the weapon's. Normally in this position, she'd play defensively, letting her enemy come to her, but the orcs showed little sign of wanting to advance. Instead they bent to retrieve more stones and came up hurling them at her. She dodged and danced and got hit a few times, some stinging. She picked what she perceived to be the most vulnerable spot in the ring and charged at it, her sword flashing wildly.
It was pure instinct then for Catti-brie, her muscles working faster than her conscious thoughts could follow. Nothing short of brilliant, the woman parried a sword, an axe, and another spear—one, two, three — and still managed to step out to the side suddenly, stabbing an orc who had expected her to move forward. Clutching its belly, that one fell away.
And a second orc joined it, dropping to the stone and writhing wildly while trying to stem the blood flow from its slashed neck.
A twist of Catti-brie's wrist had the weapon of a third orc turned tip down to the stone, leaving her an easy opening for a deadly strike, but as Khazid'hea started its forward rush, a stone clipped the woman's already wounded hand, sending a burst of fiery pain up her arm. To her horror, before she even realized the extent of what had happened, she heard Khazid'hea go bouncing away across the stones.