Sye-nitch had been comforted by Imep’s logic, until a couple days later, as Imep and Croll, and a few other Druntuss leaders were quietly plotting over a table.  One of the Oolar’s big bodyguards walked into the tavern, summoning Croll.  When the regiment commander ordered Sye-nitch to come along, the lookout felt impending doom.

His dread bore down on him, then squeezed profoundly around his throat, as Chief Ingruk joined them, himself escorted by another elite guard.  Silently, they went along the restricted tunnels, until they were standing before Puddlence, and a few more of the Daghaivan wizards.

Sye-nitch did notice, however, two humans he had never seen before.  In the dim light of the visible spectrum, a tri-cleorps’ sensitive eyes could see very minute details.  The taller human, despite his humble garb, had smooth, combed-back hair, and bright, gleaming eyes.  The other – shorter and lighter of build – wore a dark, wide-brimmed, flat-crowned hat.  His eyes were less anxious, but still attentive.

The soggy little wizard was the first to speak.

“So good of you to come, Ingruk,” he said, to Sye-nitch’s chief.

The false courtesy was enough to spit in the arrogant spell-caster’s face.  Sye-nitch knew if he was bigger and stronger, he would beat Puddlence to death. The presence of the other Daghaivan, including the annoying snake-woman Pouzelle, helped keep himself in check.

“Maybe you can answer a question for us.  Our human agents,” he said, with a wave at the newcomers, “have told us that bounty hunters have been killing a great many tri-cleorps – from your tribe – in the forest above.  The dwarves of Hammermound have even joined with them in the fight.

“Now, they came to ask me if so many of your troops were supposed to come to the forest, and naturally, I told them, ‘no’.  So now, I’m asking it of you.”

“If members of my tribe – “

“Quiet!” Puddlence shouted, his façade falling away like a sudden punch to the face.  “Nothing happens in your tribe that you don’t know about!”

Sye-nitch could feel his own cheeks flushing.

Fortunately, Sye-nitch was rewarded, as Ingruk remembered the crafty advice he had given him, in case things took this turn.

“My tribe,” he said, more bravely, “must appease Umodt.”

Puddlence looked at him incredulously.

“Our cleric, Hotchpik, the Chosen of Umodt the Many-eye, was killed by the bounty hunters led by the tall woman.  Croll, my regiment commander, along with the rest of us, swore to get those humans.  I didn’t need to question his methods.”

“That’s the reason?” Pouzelle hissed, rising taller on her scaly body.  “That’s why our great purpose is endangered, because you had to let one of your own work behind our backs?”

Sye-nitch nearly breathed a sigh of relief at the snake-woman’s words, giving Ingruk a chance to keep talking.

“The Many-eye is not mocked, and his holy one does not die without retribution.  Since we are so limited in how many we can send to the surface, when he told me he knew of a way to do it, I let him.”

“You’re awful calm for someone who’s about to die,” Puddlence quietly told him, unimpressed.

“It doesn’t matter if you kill me.  The Many-eye will have his revenge.  The entire Druntuss tribe is ready to break with the Oolar and march on the city right now to get it.”

Puddlence smiled.  Sye-nitch was absorbed completely, wondering if Ingruk’s brave front would still stand when the wizard made his magical attack.

Their stare down was cut short by Pouzelle’s conceited snort from behind.  And Sye-nitch spied, behind Pouzelle, the other humans quietly whispering to each other.

“There are worse things than killing you,” Puddlence said evenly.

“Just let it be done,” Pouzelle coldly commented.

The ‘wet wizard’ smiled, such that only the tri-cleorps could see, and Sye-nitch saw volumes in his air of superiority.  He was the real power in this room.  Tolga had been right.  Their great Oolar was just a pawn.  If their cause was not for Umodt’s glory, what were they fighting for?

“What is this commander’s name?” Puddlence asked.

“Croll,” Ingruk answered, indicating the tri-cleorps to his left.

Sye-nitch did not know who Croll would attack first – – the wizard or Ingruk.

“So,” Puddlence said, as he stood squarely looking up at the volatile commander.  “You would lead a revolt, eh?”

Sye-nitch watched Puddlence’s smirk, at the proud tribal chief’s sacrifice of an underling.

Sye-nitch could not make his own body move to grab hold of the arrogant wizard’s pudgy neck, and throttle it until all the juices squirted out.  Even if he died, he could reap the Many-eye’s favor, taking down this enemy in their midst.

Croll glanced with condemning eyes at his chief.  Not that Sye-nitch owed Croll any sentiment, but he was hoping he would do something.

Croll made his lunge for the fat little wizard.

His rear leg was kicked out from under him, and he fell short of his mark.  Ingruk was upon him, and Croll laughed as he was brought down, at the absurdity of the situation.

Sye-nitch stood still and took it all in, tempted to tell Ingruk the moral of the day: never ally with someone who will have no use for you later on.

Spitting curses into the rocky floor, as his own chief held him in an arm-lock, Croll was roughly brought to his feet by the Oolar’s guards.

Puddlence looked up at him, as if he was supremely powerful, despite having others do the dirty work.

“Strength rules,” Croll growled, as condescendingly as possible.

Then he looked at his chief, getting his last licks in, and smiling quite proudly.  “I’ll be a lackey to false leaders no more.”

“Take him to the dungeon,” Puddlence dismissively ordered.  “Keep him guarded.  I’ll deal with him later.”

As Croll was shuffled off, Pouzelle’s coils twisted and rolled, eyeing Sye-nitch as if he was next.

“The damage is done.”  She looked at him with such coldness, for an instant the true nature of a predatory reptile shone in her eyes.  “Let’s kill this tribe.  They’ve proven incompetent.”

Ingruk spoke up, never taking his eyes off Puddlence.  “The Druntuss are ready to die for Umodt’s revenge.  The other tribes will know what we’re fighting for; and in the guidance of their own clerics, we might find new allies, Oolar or no.”

“You talk brave now?  Why did you not help your friend?”

Sye-nitch knew as well as Ingruk, the wizards had spells ready to strike them both down in an instant.

Ingruk was not wilting in the slightest, determined not to be the one to back down today.  Wrong moment, Sye-nitch thought to himself, shifting slightly on his feet.

The hat-adorned human suddenly spoke up, getting everyone’s attention.

“It’s one bounty hunter who’s the real problem here,” he said clearly, as if he was on equal terms with the powerful individuals in the room.

“She has overcome attempts to kill her.  So instead, let us take away her will to fight.”

Sye-nitch stared at him, quiet and puzzled.

“She’s a stubborn one.  If you cut off this one tribe, she’ll simply go to another spot, and the situation will start again.  Let us distract her.”

The hat-wearing agent pointed at Ingruk.  “Let this tribe keep fighting her.  But let me guide them.  After that, she won’t fight any more.”

“When will this be?” Puddlence asked.

“I need to plan.  A couple of weeks.”

Sye-nitch looked at Puddlence’s face.  The whole room waited for his response.

“Your tribe will follow this human,” he smugly said to Ingruk.  “You can keep your territory.  But you may not go up, except for the Wanderers, and only to fight that woman.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, standing a little straighter, “throw 50 of your people into the Slime.  I’m watching the shrooms of your tribe.  If you try to send more, I’ll know about it, and you’ll share your underling’s fate.”

“Daws,” he said, turning to the human.  “Fail in this, and you’ll be the one to pay.”  He jabbed a thumb at Ingruk.  “I might turn you into one of them.”

Daws just nodded.

 

Later, after Sye-nitch had watched the throwing of a few dozen of his own tribe into the Slime, he sat with Ingruk in the tavern in the deep, dark corner of the undercity, after the chief had shared what had happened with Imep.

Then Ingruk quietly laughed to himself.  “The Daghaivan still don’t know about the smaller shroom-rooms!  Truly, they’re as ignorant as the surface-scum.”

“Any chance Croll will talk about it?” Imep cautiously asked.

He did not ask, Sye-nitch noticed, how the chief knew about those rooms to begin with.  Sye-nitch had informed to save his own life.  Ingruk had simply allowed Croll and those with him to stick their necks out farther.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ingruk laughed.  “We’ll play along with the human, if it means getting that woman.”

“How can we follow the human?  Can we trust him?” Sye-nitch asked, still not calmed down.

“Didn’t you glance at them with the proper sight?” Ingruk asked, referring to their favored infra-vision.

“When the flat-hat human,” he said, “started talking, Puddle,” he pointed out, using the slang insult that had been passed among the troops to refer to the short wizard, “and the Snake tensed, and the warmth came to their skin.  They don’t like the humans from the city.”

“The humans don’t like them, either,” he concluded.

A crafty, crooked grin spread across his face.  “Those two want us to win against that girl.  If they beat her, they’re the ones who save the Master’s Day of Conquer, not the wizards.

“So, the flat-hat won’t tell the Daghaivan anything to hurt us.”

“But what about following a human, of all things?”

“Now it becomes the human’s job!  It’s his fault if it doesn’t work!” Ingruk happily replied.