Downfall

"I'm surprised Donnag lived up to his word, Fiona," the mariner whispered. He nodded toward a wooden chest filled with gems and coins. Donnag had paused in front of the chest. He was eyeing its contents and dropping a few more bits of jewelry inside. The ogre chieftain motioned for the lid to be closed. Two thick leather straps were wrapped around it, and it was fastened to the back of the largest ogre.

"The world gives us surprises," she answered the mariner.

"Maybe. But, you still can't be serious about this." Rig raised his voice slightly, after Donnag was pacing again and was now a good distance away. "I told you I watched your brother die. One week ago to this day. Inside that… that… mountain. Fetch used this eye-shaped pool left behind by the Black Robes, and he conjured up an image of Shrentak's dungeons." The mariner had spent most of the evening telling the Solamnic about their trip to the ruins and along the underground river, and about the visions Fetch had called forth. "I watched Aven die, Fiona." And then I watched Fetch die too, the mariner added silently to himself.

She met his gaze, her eyes bright with determination, though rimmed with the tears she fought to keep in check. "Rig, you don't know that for certain," she said stubbornly, repeating the words she told him last night. "It was a vision. You weren't actually there in Shrentak. He might still be alive."

The mariner shut his eyes and took a deep breath, opened them and noticed that her lip trembled almost imperceptibly. "It was real enough, Fiona. How many times do I have to describe it?"

"And even if it was real," she said, "I want his body back. If he is dead, he deserves a proper Solamnic burial. I'll not have him rotting in the Black's lair. I'll use the ransom to rescue his body."

She drew her shoulders back, thrust out her chin, and forced her tears back. "A very proper burial." She made a move to walk away from Rig. But his hand reached out and gently closed around her arm, and he gently turned her to face him.

"Fiona…" he began.

"You're not going to change my mind." As an afterthought, she added softly, "I'll understand if you don't want to come along."

"Oh, I'm coming with you, all right. I'm not going to leave you and…"

She tugged on his shirt, interrupting him, turning her face to the ogres and pointing to one in the center of the front line. "That man has been to the ruins of Takar before. He'll guide us."

He was a barrel-chested ogre in boiled leather. His skin was dark brown and wart-riddled, and his eyes were as gray as the rain clouds overhead.

"His name is Mulok, and he's old, I'm told, for an ogre. He was at the ruins when the Black was just settling down in her swamp."

Rig rolled his head to work a kink out of his neck. He released her arm and lowered his voice. "I could lead us to Takar. Alone. You and I and that chest of gems."

"Neither you nor I have been there, we've directions only. It is fortunate one of Donnag's men has actually been to the ruins."

"But we have reliable directions."

"Having Mulok with us is better, I think." She took a step back. "Maldred has confidence in him. Besides, you ‘steer by the stars, and we haven't seen anything but clouds for quite some time."

"I don't know about this." Rig thrust his thumbs behind his belt, his fingers drumming against the leather. "I don't like it, Fiona. I don't like this plan."

She let out a long breath and steepled her fingers, let the silence settle around them. He was used to the gesture, which she subconsciously practiced when she was upset. After a few moments, she continued, "Rig, the plan is simple, and we've been over it before. The bozak, the old draconian who approached the Solamnic Council, is stationed in Takar. I'll recognize him. The gold collar studded with gems, the scars on his chest. When I saw him… well, he was so distinctive that I'll have no trouble picking him out. We find him. We give him the gems. And he releases my brother-or my brother's body. There's enough gems and coins that we should be able to ransom other prisoners as well. The plan will work. It has to."

Rig frowned. "I don't believe you can trust Sable's minion-this old draconian. He might not be waiting for you at Takar. He might have given up waiting. Or he might have been lying to you and the council all along, which is what I suspect. I don't trust or like his Lordship Donnag. I certainly don't like Maldred-he admitted to being a thief. And I don't like Dhamon. Not anymore."

"Did you ever?" Her voice had an edge to it. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Maldred's approach drew her attention.

He was dressed in black leather armor, and a dark green cloak hung from his massive shoulders. A two-handed sword stuck out behind his neck. His hair was cropped close to his head, making his face seem even more angular and striking.