"Lies! Let me kill her now, my lord," said Slickblade, his voice dropping to a soft and deadly hiss.

Darkend seriously considered the request, then shook his head. "No. There is more here than I know, and I will have some answers. Do not kill her. Not yet, anyway."

"Of course I am worried about my son, too. Where did you take him?" Garimeth asked Slickblade innocently.

"What?" The assassin's rage exploded. "\ beg you, Sire. Please let me put the blade to her! Or to her bastard son!"

"Perhaps you have an idea," Darkend replied dryly. "In light of the recent, unforeseen events, he is probably no longer useful to me. Yet if I could find him, he could still serve one purpose admirably."

He turned to Slickblade, who had moved to glower from the shadows near the door. "You must find the half-breed and kill him. When you are done, I command you to bring his head here, so that his mother may admire his likeness for as long as she desires. His head will serve as a reminder of the price of treachery against Darkend Bellowsmoke."

"With pleasure, lord." His eyes flashed with delight.

Garimeth's face whitened as she heard the death sentence, but she was obviously shrewd and selfish enough not to betray her feelings. Instead, she merely stared after the dark figure of the royal assassin as Slickblade nodded and glided smoothly out the door.

"You don't believe me?" she asked sadly. "I tell you, your killer dwarf was here and came here with-according to him-a message for my son."

Darkend shrugged, then chuckled cruelly. "If you speak the truth, he will have no trouble finding the lad."

"Perhaps. But Tarn is resourceful."

Suddenly they were interrupted by a distant rumble. Quickly, Garimeth led Darkend outside to the vast balcony that overlooked the sea and the lower city. Columns of steam curled and twisted through the air. They watched as one of the fiery serpents veered away from the center of the cavern and started winging closer and closer to the two Daergar.

A great missile of fire, like a blazing meteor, coursed through the air over the Urkhan Sea and angled downward toward the balcony and the two dark dwarves.

Darkend turned his eyes away, wincing against the blinding light. He was only vaguely aware of a stark black figure amid the brightness of the fire dragon.

The great dragon flexed its broad flaming wings and came to rest in a cloud of sparks and smoke. Darkend still held a hand before his eyes to shield against the painful glare, but even so he could discern the tall, regal creature, manlike in visage, with skin that was smooth and featureless. The black figure dismounted and stalked forward to loom over him. Fire hissed and crackled with excruciating brilliance, a burning heat that felt painful against Dark-end's face.

The thane knew with certainty that he was about to die.

Interlude of Chaos

Zarak Thuul felt a profound attraction, a compulsion that drew him across the vault of space and sea. Thoughts beckoned to him. A presence reached inside his head and touched him like no being-not even Primus-ever had.

He was astounded to see before him a she-dwarf and to know that it was her will that had drawn him. He could tell she felt awe at his beautiful appearance and that she coveted his mighty power. These twin emotions were immensely pleasing to the daemon warrior.

Laughing aloud, the harbinger of Chaos seized the female and lifted her into an embrace. She became one with him in spirit, desire, and mind. This was a worthy being, he knew, so different from the pathetic insects that were the rest of these mortals.

He put her down again and fell on his face before her, overcome with wonder and keen, soaring delight.

Assassin's Mate

"Just suppose I agree with you. How would we go about stealing a boat?"

Tarn decided to ask the question, though he was pretty certain he would regret following this gully dwarf plan. Perhaps the rank air, the sticky goo on the floor, and the odor of the pungent grog-which he had thus far avoided sampling-had combined to cloud his judgment. Even so, he admitted to himself that the notion was better than anything he had been able to come up with.

"We just goes there and takes it-a boat," Regal explained.

The others in the dark and smelly saloon agreed with a whole hearted chorus of nods and belches.

"Lotsa boats!" proclaimed one expansively.

"Get big one!" urged a comrade.

"No, a fast one!" insisted another.

"I like a boat with lotta legs," explained Duck Bigdwarf, giving Tarn a bleary but scrutinizing look.

"Legs?" Tarn was taken by surprise, until he thought for a moment. "Oh, you mean oars, I suppose. Yes, we have to get one with legs. Reorx knows the chain boats aren't going to get us there."

Accompanied by a boisterous mob of gully dwarves, Tarn rose and made his way outside of the dingy inn. He took care this time to avoid smashing his head on the outcrop of rock. Surrounded by a chorus of voices-"What boat that? Go see! Your boots make good boat!"-they climbed to the crest of a large rock where they could get a view of the Daerforge waterfront. Dozens of gully dwarves had appeared, and the whole party was gathered along the steeply sloping surface of Agharhome.

The docks of the dark dwarf port city were clearly visible along the curve of the shoreline. They all saw the wreckage created when a part of the second level had collapsed to spill across some of the waterfront. The farther expanse of the broad wharves behind the pile of rock and steel left in the wake of the collapse teemed with activity. There, dozens of boats freshly arrived from Hybardin jostled for position as their crews tried desperately to scramble ashore. Everywhere the place was teeming with agitated dark dwarves. Tarn didn't see any way he and the Aghar could even get close to-much less steal-one of the watercraft without being spotted.

"See! Comes a fireflier!" cried one gully dwarf.

Tarn stared in horror as the flaming outline of a massive dragon soared over their heads. He flinched unconsciously, though the mighty creature paid no attention to the insignificant specks on the ground so far below. Instead, as Tarn watched in astonishment, the beast soared toward the upper level of Daerforge, toward the twin towers high up on the cliff. With a flexing of those great wings the creature came to rest on the broad outer balcony of his mother's house.

Tarn saw the black creature dismount from the dragon's back. With a sense of utter disbelief he spotted two small figures coming into view. He could recognize neither at a distance, but the bronze helmet on the head of one of them might as well have been a beacon proclaiming his mother's presence. Garimeth was wearing the Helm of Tongues, and she was greeting-now she was being embraced!-by this harbinger of Chaos.

For a long time the monstrous warrior seemed to speak to the Daergar. It seemed to Tarn that his mother did a great deal of talking in return. And then he saw the strange being prostrate himself at the dwarfwoman's feet! Finally the black rider returned to its fiery mount and soared into the skies on a course for Hybardin. Tarn was certain of one thing: some kind of nefarious deal had been struck.

Stunned, he tried to consider the ramifications of this development. Soon after, as Tarn watched, a party of dark dwarves, including the still-helmeted Garimeth Bellowsmoke, emerged from the house and started down the road toward the waterfront.

"What now, Regal Wiseallatime?" asked Duck Bigdwarf patiently. He gestured at the expanse of stormy sea, blazing fireballs, and wracked Hybardin. "This boring!"

"Wait for him, I say," Regal retorted, skeptically regarding Tarn. "He our leader. That is, if he ever do something."