Ruins of Myth Drannor by Carrie Bebris Page A

cultist sunk to the floor, staring sightlessly through his red leather hood.
    Kestrel, unused daggers still in hand, looked at the dead sorcerer in amazement. “Damn, that was fast.”
    The orogs, who hadn’t even had time to close in, froze at a command from their leader. “Hey, you gubuk,” he said to Emmeric and Durwyn.
    “Gubuk?” Durwyn repeated.
    “You soft-skin people. I parley with you. Stand. Stand and talk!”
    The fighters turned for guidance to Corran, who nodded. “All right. Let us speak.”
    The two sides lowered their weapons and approached each other warily. “Orogs swore to protect ugly mage,” the orog leader said. “If ugly mage dead, orog honor say, nothing to protect. No need to kill you gubuks. We go now. No hard feelings.”
    Kestrel had to smile at the creatures’ simple logic. And pragmatic loyalties.
    “A few questions first,” Corran said. “What can you tell us about your employers?” Kestrel almost wished he hadn’t asked—the rank smell of the orog leader’s matted, hairy hide made her queasy. Or was that his breath?
    The orog shrugged and tossed his head. His stringy, greasy hair didn’t move. “Ugly mages full of lies. Make deal with orogs. Orogs walk dungeons, yes, find magic items. Mages promise lots of gold. But ugly mages no pay.” He blew air through his snout. The noise seemed meant to signal disgust. “Today ugly mages say get small gubuk, put in box, they give big treasure. We take gubuk, put in box. Ugly mages not pay.”
    Ghleanna frowned. “Who was he—the small gubuk?”
    “Garbage man. Lives in wagon—”
    “Nottle.” Kestrel groaned, shaking her head. Stupid scamp. Hadn’t they warned him?
    “Nottle, yes. That what ugly mages call gubuk. Oho, garbage man not like box! He talk and talk.”
    “Where is this box?” Corran asked.
    “In old dwarf treasure room,” the orog said. “Down in dungeon. Way, way down.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    “You have got to be kidding!”
    Kestrel couldn’t believe her ears. Corran and the others wanted to drop everything to go rescue that hare-brained peddler. “We’re here! At the House of Gems. We’re right—” she gestured wildly at the door—“here!”
    “Nottle’s in trouble,” Corran stated calmly, as one would address a stubborn child. “We must aid him.”
    “He’s an idiot!” she sputtered. “We warned him about the danger. He ignored us. He deserves whatever he gets.”
    “Then I guess all of us better hope we never need your help.”
    Her fingers twitched. She wanted nothing more than to sink one of her daggers between the paladin’s shoulder blades. How had he managed to make her the villain of the group? All she’d ever tried to do was inject a dose of reality into their starry-eyed plans to save the world all by themselves.
    Emmeric cleared his throat. “Actually, I agree with Kestrel.” Corran appeared surprised at the dissent, but the fighter continued. “We can’t afford to waste time, not with the Ring of Calling so close.”
    “Thank you,” she said. At least someone else in the party was showing some sense.
    “But it isn’t close,” Corran said. “We’re just hoping the cult sorcerers will be in the Room of Words when we get there. They might not be there yet. They might have been there and gone already. We don’t know. We do know where Nottle is and that he’s in danger. As men and women of good conscience—” he shot a pointed look at Kestrel—“we must aid the weak.”
    “And risk weakening ourselves and the success of our mission in the process?” Emmeric pressed.
    “Tyr will look with favor upon us.”
    Kestrel rolled her eyes. “Tyr can kiss my—”
    “Enough.” Ghleanna released a heavy sigh. “In the time we have spent debating this, we could have traveled halfway to Nottle’s prison. Let us make haste to release him and return here without further delay.”
    The group headed off. Kestrel, however, tarried. They had not searched the cult sorcerer’s body for clues to the cult’s activities—or valuables, for that matter—and she, for one, intended to