Sye-nitch stood with Croll, regiment commander of the Druntuss tribe, and their powerful chief, Ingruk, in the rooms housing the Daghaivan – the Oolar’s dark-robed wizards – in the central quarter of the undercity complex.

It was not often the tri-cleorps ventured here.  Usually only the Oolar and his bodyguards visited, then shared news with the troops.

The dark wizards isolated themselves from the regular forces.  As Sye-nitch knew well, Croll and Ingruk preferred it thus.  The tri-cleorps looked down on any coward who dabbled in magic, rather than fight with a real weapon.  The derisive sniffs the fighters had shared as they came to the meeting would be backed by a death-blow, if they encountered one of the whelps in different circumstances.  Unfortunately, they carried the favor of the leader.

Further, Croll had insisted on the low-ranking Sye-nitch coming along, so that if the magic users attacked for any reason, the commander could use him as a living shield.

The Daghaivan were the ones who actually used the living prisoners for their spells.  And it was for that purpose the tri-cleorps were ordered to bring the humans – alive and undamaged – into their clutches.  If they could not bring humans, livestock would do.  They were acting as errand flunkies for these robe-wearing tricksters.

But again, the mighty Oolar – the most powerful tri-cleorps – ordered it.

The tri-cleorps served the Oolar’s strength, not just because he had united the tribes, but because of his divinity.  The fourth eye upon his head was a clear blessing of their god, Umodt the Many-eye.  They would follow his orders – even if it meant existing with their hated rival tribes – lest Umodt send them to eternal torment when they left this physical life.

The light in the meeting room was in the visible spectrum, more suited to the wizards; but it was in dim red and green shades – – not hurtful to Sye-nitch’s superior night-seeing eyes.

Puddlence Broaht, a short and pudgy wizard leading the Daghaivan, kept his hood over his head, with his moist face and its wart-like complexion visible.  With damp spots on his robe, the sheen of moisture on his jowls glistened, as he looked up at his guests like a deformed human who sweated too easily.

The creature standing beside the wizard, though, was another matter.

With the upper body of a human woman, and the lower body of a gigantic snake, she was certainly a creature of darkness, at home in the deepway.

Pouzelle Louquete wore twin swords on her scaly hips, but Sye-nitch looked past that façade, knowing she was another magic-user.  Like an assistant, she helped the Daghaivan cast their spells, in the Hall where the nexus of their magical power sat before the broken dwarven throne.

Sparing them the courtesy of a greeting, Puddlence told the tri-cleorps officers, “I just received word from our agent in Osterly.

“There’s a foreign bounty hunter – a woman – who has made a good number of kills in a short time.”  He gave a patronizing scratch on his jaw-line with one portly finger.  “Worse than that, she told of many tri-cleorps walking in the woods.  She saw them, even though they did not attack her.”

“And they’re not going to attack,” Ingruk said, unfazed, citing the Oolar’s orders.  “Not if the meat isn’t in the right spot.”

“Well, suppose the meat is in the right spot, and the tri-cleorps who attack are dying rather than capturing her?” he asked pointedly.  “Given there’s only six in her party, it would be embarrassing if she’s walking so easily through your territory, wouldn’t it?  Then she returns to tell others, and the city calls for fighters from the Humboldt kingdom.”

“I hope the Oolar’s trust in your tribe was not misplaced,” he added.  “We, at least,” he said, referring to the Daghaivan, “are doing our jobs.

“If you’re not strong enough to do yours, then maybe you have no place in his plan.”

Sye-nitch watched from behind as Croll’s fists tightened.  He knew the regiment commander was wondering how much juice he could squeeze out of the waddling human’s neck.

Chief Ingruk stayed calm, though, and let Puddlence continue.

“Fortunately, the agent continues to show his value.  Her party will be leaving Osterly on the Garrior trail.  They should take the more northern route past Jutte-rock.  That will certainly put them in the ‘right spot’, no?”

A moment of silence ensued, with Puddlence rubbing his fingertips together under his cloak, as he often toweled his skin’s secretions off on his own clothes.

“That will be all.”

Sye-nitch quickly followed, as Croll and Ingruk wordlessly turned and departed.  They made their way out of the Daghaivan chambers, and back into the undercity proper.

“I don’t think our normal tactics will be enough for this lot,” Croll said.  “They’ll be far enough away from the human city.  We should jump’em as soon as the boys are gathered around’em.”

Ingruk leveled a glare at him.  “And do you well to remember the orders.”

“Aye,” Croll said.  “Take’em alive.  Let the Oolar see our tribe’s worth.”