Ghost?"
"He is called Ghost, not 'the Ghost,' " Vander snapped. "You would do well to remember that. My own role," he continued, mellowing a bit, "is none of your concern."
It struck Bogo as more than a little curious that \fonder took more offense at his concerns for Ghost than for himself, particularly since Bogo had directly questioned the fir-bolg's value.
"Ghost will lead the way in, gather information, and prepare the target," Vander went on. "I have twenty skilled assassins at my disposal, so we will need to secure a base near, but not within, the walls of Carradoon."
Bogo nodded at the simple logic.
"Wfe will leave in the morning, then," Vander continued. "Are you prepared?"
"Of course."
"Then our meeting is concluded," Vander stated abruptly, flatly, motioning to the door. Immediately the two black-robed sentries moved to each side of Bogo to escort him from the room.
Bogo looked back at the door many times as he made his way slowly down the corridor. A firbolg and a weakling? It seemed very unusual, but then, Bogo had been in the Night Masks only a day more than a month before he had begged to leave, and he had to admit, at least to himself, that he knew very little about the band's methods.
Bogo soon dismissed all thoughts of Vander and Ghost, concentrating instead on another meeting he had planned. At Aballister's request, Bogo would meet with Druzil to learn all he could about Cadderly and his cohorts. The imp had dealt with Cadderly on two occasions - both disastrous for Castle Trinity - and knew as much about him as anyone.
Bogo desperately wanted that knowledge. He was a bit dismayed that so many Night Masks had been assigned to this task, not because he wanted Cadderly to have a chance to escape, but because he wanted to be in on the action. More than anything else, Bogo Rath wanted to play a vital role in the kill, wanted to gain the respect of Aballister and, particularly, Dorigen.
He was tired of the taunts, of being referred to as Boy-go. How would mighty Dorigen, who returned from Shilmista stripped of her valuable possessions and with her hands broken and swollen, feel when Bogo delivered the head of Aballister's troublesome son? Cadderly, after all, had been the source of Dorigen's humiliation.
Bogo dared to dream that he might ascend within Castle Trinity's hierarchy to become Aballister's second. Dorigen's hands were stow to heal; the fortress's clerics doubted that many of her fingers would ever straighten. Given that precise movements played a vital role in spell casting, who could guess the implications to Dorigen's power?
Bogo rubbed his soft hands together eagerly and sped off for the meeting room, to where Druzil, his guide to a better fife, waited.
"How dare you do that to me!" the firbolg growled at his companion as soon as Bogo had gone. A nod from him sent the two guards scrambling from the room. The giant leaped from his seat and threateningly advanced a step.
"I did not know that my ... that your . . . body's size would return to normal," the little man protested, trying to sink deeper into the cushions of his soft chair. "I believed the enchantment would last longer, at least through the meeting." The firbolg grabbed the little man by the collar and hoisted him into the air. "Ah, Vander," the giant purred, his features too calm, "dear Vander." The firbolg's face contorted suddenly in rage and he punched the little man in the face, destroying his nose. A backhand slap raised a welt on one cheek; a second slap did likewise on the other. Then, with an evil grin, the firbolg grabbed the little man by one forearm and snapped his bone so severely that the man's fingers brushed against his elbow.
The beating went on for many minutes, and finally the firbolg dropped the barely conscious man back to his seat.
"If you ever deceive me so again . . ." the red-haired giant warned. "If ever again you humiliate me in front of one such as Bogo Rath, I will torment you until you beg for death!"
The smaller man, the real Vander, curled up in a fetal position, cradling his shattered arm, feeling terribly vulnerable and afraid trapped inside the puny body of the weakling, Ghost.
"I want my body back," Ghost said suddenly, tugging uncomfortably at his firbolg trappings. "You are so hairy and itchy!"
Vander sat up and nodded, eager to be back in his own form.
"Not now,"