Telltale Tongue crouched in his favorite hideout, a small cave situated at the top of a long narrow gallery, well off the main path. He was worried as only a ratfolk with a naturally nervous disposition could be. He knew that he had a few days to put into effect his claim that he was capable of destroying the armored warrior and his accompanying female who had humiliated Chang, or he would suffer the same fate as the messenger.
He shuddered at the thought of that demonstration of the awesome power that the Black Magician possessed. Certainly, the magic that Dhalthar wielded was something to fear. He knew that hiding would do him no good, that the Black Magician would find him no matter how deep he dug, but old instincts were hard to overcome. Even when he was a small hatchling, in times of trouble, Telltongue had always looked for hiding places from which to spy on the larger ratfolks and plan revenge.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, anger was walking on little padded legs. He knew that Dhalthar had decided to stalk him, and the instinctive need for revenge made him want to sink his fangs into the Black Magician's throat. The fact that he understood why Dhalthar had chosen him as a victim didn't make it any easier for him to accept. Basic ratfolk instinct told him why Dhalthar had chosen him. From an early age, every young wererat learned who it was unwise to turn against and who could be bullied with impunity. That is, those who did not die in some horrific way or, as was often the case, were eaten by those who killed them. In a sense, he understood that The Black Magician Dhalthar had targeted him for a good and sensible political reason, for he was the youngest of the ratfolk chieftains and the least secure in his position.
Tell-tongue had risen to the position he held then when he was a junior Warlord in Clan Arkan, by being Virmek's favorite and reporting on those who had conspired against his distant cousin. He had a nose for sniffing out information that might be useful to her, a talent that came in handy in an intriguing society like a ratfolk clan. But now Virmek was dead, and Telltongue doubted that even his powerful kin would be able to protect him against the wrath of a Black Magician. "No" he decided in the most realistic way. "Virmek wouldn't have thought me useful enough to even bother trying."
He gave the impression that his promising career was about to end: he would either die under the greatsword of a maniacal armored warrior, who, according to rumors, even the Black Magician Dhalthar feared, or be torn apart by the powerful sorcery of that spellcaster, which caused fright. Neither prospect was particularly appealing to an ambitious young ratfolk, though, for the moment, there seemed to be nothing he could do to change his luck.
Telltale Tongue heard voices coming from below where he stood, and he froze as he realized that the others had sought out this lonely spot out of personal interest. He knew best to remain silent because he was alone and packs of ratfolk had been known to pounce on ratmen in lonely tunnels and devour them. To be honest, the Telltale Tongue had done it himself. He listened intently, ears twitching, hoping to learn more about the approaching ratfolk.
"Damn that Black Magician Dhalthar!" he heard a voice say that he recognized as belonging to Heskit One-Eyed. "He has denied me my rightful place as head of this army, yes. The credit for the victory over the humans should rightfully belong to me and, of course, to Clan Marchin.
Tell-Tongue's whiskers twitched. Those words were treasonous, and he was sure the Black Magician Dhalthar would like to know who had spoken them. At that moment he listened as if his life depended on it, because he thought that he could find a way out of the difficult situation in which he found himself, a path through which to obtain the Black Magician's favor again.
"Yes-yes, the greatest of lords. A fool is Dhalthar. Maybe he too could have an accident like Virmek!" Tell-Tongue recognized the subservient voice as belonging to Heskit's trusted aide, Chillachilla.
"Shut up, shut up! Don't talk about those things. It's been tried before, but somehow accidents always end up happening to someone else, not Black Magician Dhalthar. Maybe it's true. Perhaps it is true that he has the blessing of the Great Rat God!"
Thus, even the mighty Heskit feared the Black Magician. Tell-Tongue was not at all reassured about his own position. And yet… what a good protector the Black Magician would be if Tell-Tongue could win him over. Clinging to Dhalthar's tail, Telltongue could really climb very quickly. The next thing he heard made his tail stand upright.
"The farscreamer's blast should have done it, but Dhalthar has the luck of a demon; he is the shrewdest of conspirators."
"Never, ever talk about it again. The squealer broke down... That's all; nothing more. If The Black Magician Dhalthar were to even suspect that there was something else, the consequences would be very bad, very bad. How about the… another plan?"
"Well, oh, greatest of warlock engineers! We have located the hidden route into the men's place. Our warriors are prepared to seize the device when given the order. Tonight is auspicious. The humans have all been called to a feast by their ruling chief."
Telltale Tongue felt the soles of his paws itch. Here he had another thing to tell Dhalthar. A secret plan by the Marchin Clan to seize human treasures. No doubt, The Black Magician Dhalthar would reward anyone who reported such a thing to him. He sneaked out to see what was happening down there. The movement loosened a few small stones that rolled to the ground, and the noise disturbed the ratfolks of Clan Marchin, who he saw leap into a defensive position as they drew their swords.
"What was that sound-noise?" demanded to know Heskit.
"I don't know, oh, bravest of bosses!" Chillachilla replied. "Hurry! hurry up Go! Investigate!"
"A boss's place is in the rear. You go!"
Telltale tongue cursed his bad luck. The noise had interrupted the talk of the conspirators, and he might never find out what they were planning.
"Most likely nothing, oh wisest of war chiefs! A little crumbling, perhaps. The tunnels are old."
They both remained motionless, listening, while Tell-Tongue hoped they would not look up, not even daring to back into the shadows again for fear the movement would attract the keen ratfolk senses of the men. others. He was sure they could hear the violent pounding of his heart. He could barely keep from secreting the musk of fear.
"What are your orders, oh shrewdest of commanders!?"
"We will attack the human-things alchemy workshop tonight when there is no moon. Your machines must be ours so that we can improve them. Your mechanical war chariots must be examined to see how we can increase their effectiveness ten thousand times."
"It will be as you wish, oh most superlative of technicians!"
"See that it be so!" Heskit barked at her, turning his back on Chillachilla to stalk away.
Black Magician then saw that as soon as Heskit's back was turned, his footman ran a thumb over her protruding incisors in the traditional ratfolk sign of disrespect. Heskit spun around, and by the time his chief's eyes landed on him, Chillachilla was back in a posture of flattering adoration.
"Don't stay here all day. Let's go! Let's go! hurry up hurry up There is too much work to do."
In the darkness, Tell-Tongue smiled. She had found out a lot of useful things, and it was time to visit the Black Magician.
♦ ♦ ♦
"What do you want?" The Black Magician Dhalthar inquired as he looked up from the scroll he had been reading. "I thought you went to the surface to kill the big male!"
"No, oh, mightiest of sorcerers!" replied Tell-Tongue, adopting the form of address that worked so well for Chillachilla. And she understood his power because Dhalthar seemed to swell visibly at the flattery and began to preen his fur. "As I ran to carry out your clever order, I stumbled upon evidence of conspiracy and knew that only the great Dhalthar himself would have the intelligence to know how to deal with the matter."
"Conspiracy? Explain yourself! Quick-quick!"
Quickly, withholding only the details of how he had come to be in this place, Tell-Tongue summarized what she had heard. Dhalthar cocked his head and bared his teeth at all this. As he listened, his tail began to flick from side to side, a sure sign that a ratfolk was agitated. When Tell-Tongue finished, Dhalthar glared at him so long and with such piercing intelligence that Tell-Tongue feared the end had come and he was about to be torn to pieces. But the Black Magician just licked his lips and stroked his horned head with one paw.
"You have done well, Tell-Tongue," he said at last. "I must consider what you have told me. You must be prepared to instantly obey my orders."
"Yes, oh, most sagacious of Supreme Commanders!"
"And, Telltale Tongue…"
"Yes, oh, the mightiest of sorcerers!?"
"Don't tell anyone anything you just told me, on pain of the most painful and instant annihilation."
"Yes Yes! To hear you is to obey you, oh most merciful of potentates!"