asked, and his son looked at him as if the question was purely ridiculous. "Just like torture," Obould explained anyway, "except ye ask them questions while ye play."
Urlgen's lips curled into a perfectly evil smile, and with a nod, he headed back into the village, where many of his warriors were already at play on the few unfortunate villagers who had not died in the attack.
An hour later, Urlgen caught up to his father, finding Obould at parlay with the giants who had helped in the raid, playing the political angles as always.
"Not all them dwarfs got killed when we hit them," Urlgen remarked, his tone a mixture of excitement for the chase, and disappointment.
"Dwarfs? There were dwarfs in that stupid little town?"
Urlgen seemed confused. "Not them dwarfs," he said. "Weren't none of them dwarfs."
Now Obould and the giants seemed confused.
"No dwarfs in the town," Urlgen stated clearly, trying to end the circular confusion. "When we hit them dwarfs a tenday ago, two got away."
It wasn't completely surprising to Obould, for they knew that some dwarves, at least, were running around the region. A band of orcs had been slaughtered not too far from this town, with tactics indicating a dwarven ambush.
"They come in there, and hurt," Urlgen explained.
"And they died in there?"
"Nope, kept runnin', looking for Mithral Hall, and were gone before we hit."
"How long?"
"Not long."
Obould wore an excited expression. "A fun hunt?" he asked the giants, and as one the great blue-skinned behemoths nodded.
But Obould's expression quickly changed as he remembered the warnings of Ad'non Kareese. "Small forays, and with restraint. We draw them out, little by little," the drow had said. Chasing these dwarves to the south would bring the force dangerously close to Mithral Hall, perhaps, and might incite a battle far beyond what Obould wanted.
"Nah, let 'em go," the orc king decided, and while the giants seemed to accept that readily enough, Urlgen's eyes popped open so wide that they seemed as if they would fall right out of his ugly head.
"Ye can't be . . ." the younger and rasher orc started to argue,
"I can be," Obould interrupted. "Ye let 'em make the hall, with their tales o' death and destruction, and the dwarfs there'll send out a force to investigate. That'd be a bigger and better fight."
Urlgen's smile began to widen once more, and Obould let him in on the rest of the reasoning, just for prudence. After all, any mention of Mithral Hall might send the young warriors charging headlong to the south.
"We get too close and start that fight, and some o' them dwarfs might get back home, and all the stinkin' Mithral Hall'll empty out on us, and that's a fight we're not wantin'!"
Despite the nods of agreement, even from sour Urlgen, Obould felt obliged to add, "Not yet."
Chapter 7 THE TRAPPINGS OF
Bruenor purposely excluded Thibbledorf Pwent from the meeting with the two dwarves of Citadel Felbarr, knowing the gist of their story beforehand from Regis, and knowing that the battlerager would likely charge right off into the mountains to avenge their fallen Felbarr kin. And so Nikwillig and Tred recounted their adventures to a group that was comprised more of non-dwarves-Drizzt, Catti-brie, Wulfgar, and Regis-than dwarves.
"A fine escape," Bruenor congratulated when the pair had finished. "Ye done Emerus Warcrown proud."
Both Tred and Nikwillig puffed up a bit at the compliment from the dwarf king.
"What're ye thinking?" Bruenor asked, directing the question to Dagnabbit.
The younger dwarf considered the question carefully for a long while, then answered, "I'll take me a group o' warriors, including the Gutbuster Brigade, and backtrack the route to the Surbrin in the north. If we find the raiders, we'll crush 'em and come home. If not, we'll tack south along the river and meet up with ye in Mithral Hall."
Bruenor nodded throughout the recitation of the plan, expecting every word. Dagnabbit was good, but he was also predictable.
"I'd be likin' another shot at them killers," Tred interjected.
His words made Nikwillig, who obviously didn't share the sentiment, look more than a little uncomfortable.
"Forgettin' yer hurt leg?" Nikwillig remarked.
"Bah, Bruenor's priests done me good with their warm hands," Tred insisted, and to accentuate the point the dwarf stood up and began hopping around, and indeed, despite a wince or two, he seemed ready for the road.
Bruenor studied the pair for a moment.
"Well, we can't let ye both get killed, or yer tale'll not be told proper to Emerus Warcrown. So, ye can come on the hunt, Tred, and