Mention of the fearsome commander took the stiffness out of Brud's spine. He slouched and said dispiritedly, “Maybe skinny girl and old man dead. Then you and Brud walk into trap. Maybe get dead?”

Riverwind unfastened the cloak and dropped it in the street. The helmet he tossed over a pile of broken bricks. “I want you to walk behind me and keep both eyes open for treachery. Understand?” The gully dwarf nodded reluctantly. “Don't look so downcast! Think of what a great story this will be to tell your children,” Riverwind said.

Brad scowled. “All children do is talk back, play loud drum music all time night and day. No 'spect for hardworking father.”

Riverwind wound the rawhide thong attached to the mace handle around his knuckles. “Stand by me, Brud, and all the Aghar will respect what you are about to do.” He set off toward the plaza with urgent strides.

“Huh! All Aghar pay 'spects at funeral!” he muttered. But Brud did follow on Riverwind's heels, his hanging rope still looped about his neck, its cut end trailing in the dust.

As Riverwind and Brud entered the great plaza, they saw that Catchflea and Di An were tied to the stumps of broken columns in the portico of the ancient building. Both were gagged. Riverwind's eyes went first to Catchflea. The old man was pale. A streak of blood was drying on his left side. Di An's face was twisted in pain. The goblins had tied her high enough on the column that her feet hung several inches above the floor. The tight ropes drove her copper metal dress into her flesh.

Thouriss stood at the head of the cracked steps, resplendent in green enameled armor mottled with black and gold to resemble a snake's skin. The ophidian commander was vain enough not to be wearing a helm, and his smooth, nearly human features contrasted sharply with the corps of goblins and draconians assembled in the plaza.

Must be the entire garrison, Riverwind thought. Perhaps a hundred armed goblins lined the curved walls that faced the plaza. At the foot of the stairs, near Thouriss, the captain, Shanz, and six more draconians stood at attention. Of Krago there was no sign. Riverwind glanced left and right. No archers on the rooftops that he could see. So far, so bad, he thought grimly.

He halted where the stream flowed into the large triangular pool that dominated the plaza. The streams from the three waterfalls that ringed Xak Tsaroth converged here. Footbridges made of stout wooden planks spanned each of the three streams, though none of these creeks was more than waist deep. Perhaps the lizard men do not enjoy getting wet, Riverwind mused. He filed this thought away as his mind raced, trying to decide on a plan.

“We're waiting, barbarian!” Thouriss boomed.

“I don't want a spear in the back,” Riverwind retorted.

“I have ordered my warriors not to interfere with you.”

“Warriors? These?” Riverwind waved at the silent ranks of goblins. “All they are fit for is enslaving and murdering defenseless gully dwarves.”

“Bold talk coming from a warm-blood! Does the little one guard your back? Ho! Ho!” There were guffaws from the goblin soldiers. “He was dead once. Soon he will be twice dead. Come ahead and meet your own fate, barbarian!”

“Brud stay here,” the gully dwarf whispered behind Riverwind. “Goblins not strike. You hear what great master say.”

“Don't believe it. Thouriss would like it very much if we separated, then he could pick us off one at a time.” He felt a bump as the Aghar moved even closer to him.

Riverwind advanced across the eastern footbridge. Brud stayed close to his back. At the foot of the palace steps, Riverwind paused.

“Are my friends all right?” he asked. He gripped the mace's handle so tightly that his hand went numb.

“They are well. The old one got nicked by my guards. The fool tried to stave off my warriors barehanded,” Thouriss said with a sneer.

“I want to hear them speak.” He put a foot up on the first step.

Thouriss drew a gleaming two-handed sword. “Stand where you are, warm-blood.” Thouriss called out, and a draconian came running to his side. “Unstop their mouths,” he ordered. The lizard man unwound the gags from Di An's and Catchflea's mouths.

“Are you hurt, old man?” Riverwind called.

“Only a scratch,” Catchf lea replied hoarsely.

“And you, little one?”

“He means to kill you!” Di An cried.

“This is no secret,” Thouriss put in genially. He motioned to the draconian, and the gags were jammed back in. Raising his sword high, he slashed an “X” in the air. “Your name will be forgotten in the ranks of the many to fall to Thouriss the Conqueror.”

“Only if you plan to talk me to death,” Riverwind remarked coldly.

Thouriss laughed, a very unpleasant sound, like a hot iron plunging in cold water. “You have a mace in your hand. Do you know how to use it?” he asked.

“It's not my weapon of choice.”

“Shanz! Give the barbarian your blade!” The draconian clomped out of his place in the cordon. Brud cowered behind the tall plainsman, making himself as small as possible. Shanz handed Riverwind his straight sword, pommel first. Riverwind gave Shanz the mace.

“I have trained long against Shanz and the other Bozak,” Thouriss said, “but I haven't yet fought a human. I am curious to discover what it's like to kill one.”

“We haven't crossed blades and already you have me dead,” Riverwind said. “Why should I bother to be sport for you?”

“Did I not say?” Thouriss asked with exaggerated surprise. “If you acquit yourself well, I will spare the old human and the elf girl. Does the weapon suit you, barbarian?”

“A bit heavy, but it will do,” Riverwind replied. Outwardly, he seemed calm and controlled. Inside, he was seething with anger, fear, and anticipation. He had the beginnings of an idea, a way to beat the formidable commander-

His wool-gathering vanished with the first swing Thouriss made with his great sword. The two-handed blade cleaved the air toward Riverwind's skull. The plainsman backed off the steps and parried clumsily. Shanz's sword was a good deal heavier than his saber, but it looked like an actor's wooden blade compared to the monstrous weapon Thouriss wielded. Poor, terrified Brud threw himself flat on the lowest step and quivered.

The commander advanced down the palace steps two at a time. His muscles bulged and knotted beneath his scale-and-mail armor like the workings of some fantastic machine. With everyone's attention fixed on the fight, Brud leaped up and scampered up the steps of the palace. He ran right past Catchflea and vanished into the ruined interior. There was no blaming him. The old man wished he could disappear, too.

Riverwind dodged the strokes Thouriss aimed at his head.

“How am I doing?” Riverwind asked, trying not to gasp for air.

“Not badly.” Thouriss brought his point up from the resting position, an underhand cut at Riverwind's chest. The plainsman met the two-hander with the flat of his borrowed blade. The impact stung his hands, but he was grateful for the added weight of the draconian sword he wielded. He turned Thouriss's attack aside. Riverwind extended his arm full-length and lunged. Thouriss made a coup parry and backed up a step. His clawed heel caught on a slab of broken marble and he stumbled. Riverwind disengaged and slashed hard across the commander's chest. The sword tip scored a bright line along Thouriss's brilliant armor. The goblins shifted their feet and muttered, but a glance from Shanz silenced them. Riverwind withdrew a pace to catch his breath. Swinging Shanz's huge sword was tiring!

“Well played,” Thouriss said. “If it weren't for my armor, you'd have seen my blood.”