"And to thoroughly enjoy die spectacle of it all," Donnia added with a wicked grin.
Kaer'lic accepted that reasoning and nodded her approval.
"Be certain that our allies are warned of the presence of a drow who is not a friend," the priestess advised.
She sat back as the others began formulating plans for their next moves. Kaer'lic did like the excitement, but there were other matters that concerned her more. She thought back to some experiences she had faced before finding her two, then three companions, when she had been out of her Underdark city on a mission for the ruling priestesses.
In those thoughts, Drizzt Do'Urden surely came to mind more than once, for he was not the first traitor to Lolth and drow ways that Kaer'lic the Terrible had faced.
It wasn't that she had any particular hatred or vendetta against Drizzt, of course-Tos'un would more likely harbor such resentments, she supposed-but the ever-plotting priestess had to wonder how it would all play out. Would she find unexpected opportunities to pay back old debts? Might the reputation of one renegade drow be put in good service to the Spider Queen, and even more importantly, to a priestess who had fallen out of favor with the goddess?
She smiled and looked around at the other three, all seeming so much more eager to play this out than was she.
Kaer'lic the Terrible, ever the patient one.
They heard the trumpets, and though they were somewhat dimwitted, one of the orc band made the connection between that heralding sound and the troupe they had been tracking.
From across the ravine, the orcs had the same view of Withegroo's tower as Drizzt and his friends had enjoyed only the day before.
Wicked grins splayed on their misshapen, tusked mouths, the orc patrol rushed away, back up into the foothills to where Urlgen, son of Obould, waited.
"Bruenor in the town," the patrol leader informed the tall, cruel orc leader.
Urlgen curled his torn lip, welcoming the information. The orc needed to redeem himself, and nothing short of the death of Bruenor Battlehammer would suffice. Obould blamed him, and so did Gerti, and for any creature living in the cold mountains at the end of the Spine of the World, having those two angry with him was not a good thing.
But they had King Bruenor within their grasp, at rest in a remote town and with little understanding of the catastrophe that was about to befall him.
Urlgen dispatched his messengers with all speed and with orders to press Obould to move quickly. They had the rat in the trap and Urlgen did not want him to slip out.
The orc was exhausted, having spent day after day in rallying others to his cause. Still, King Obould knew that he had to make this journey personally and not deliver the news that Bruenor had been found through any messenger.
He found Gerti sitting on the very edge of her throne, her blue eyes narrow and dangerous, her posture that of a predator anxious to spring.
"You have located King Bruenor and those others who murdered my kin?" she asked before the orc king could even offer a formal greeting.
"A small town," Obould replied. "The one with the lone tower."
Gerti nodded her recognition. With its singular tower, Shallows was quite distinct in this region of abandoned, simple villages and underground dwarven or goblinkin strongholds.
"And you have prepared your forces?"
"An army is out and running already," Obould answered.
Gerti's eyes widened and she seemed about to explode.
"Only to circle south," the orc quickly explained. "The ground is flat and easy to cross there, and King Bruenor must be held in the town."
"They are out to seal the road and nothing more?"
"Yes."
Gerti nodded to one of her attendants, a massive, muscular frost giant clad in shining metal armor and holding the largest, nastiest spear Obould had ever seen. The warrior immediately returned the nod with a bow and started out of the room.
"Yerki will lead my forces," Gerti explained. "They are ready to march at once."
"How many?" the orc had to ask.
"Ten," Gerti replied.
"And a thousand orcs," Obould added.
"Then our contributions to the downfall of King Bruenor Battlehammer are about the same," remarked the superior-minded giantess.
Obould almost blurted a sarcastic response, but he remembered where he was and how easy it would be for any of Gerti's associates to smash him, and he just chuckled instead.
With her eyes still focused, narrow again and deadly serious, Gerti didn't join in his mirth.