"Damn!" snarled the Lord of Yarhaven.The trap had been set so well. His father dead, his seat on the council assured, the false information he had sent back about the army accepted at face value by all, the Princess enchanted and ready to be plucked like a rose in his private garden, the army pouring in from without and rising up from beneath -- soon Yarfell would have been completely in the hands of Venger's chosen ruler. And later, who knows? Even Venger could not watch always -- a knife in the back, and could not the Ruler of the Realm be as easily Lord Drax as Lord Venger?
And then Tolan. Always Tolan. Tolan, who had ensared the affections of the Princess. Tolan, who had discredited his information. Tolan, and that b###h Kirriam, who were even now leading a troop of renegade Drow against the Master's army.
Tolan must die.
And how? Much as he would have enjoyed carving out the young Lord's liver personally, Drax knew his place in Yarfell was too insecure for direct action. No. It must be assassination, again. Tolan would fall to the same knife that had killed his brother -- and, smiled Lord Drax, 'my own late lamented father."
He summoned a page. "Run down to the House of the Cloth-merchants' Guild, and summon to me the Guildmaster Yodel!" he barked.
The little copper-haired page turned white, and trembled. "M-m-my Lord, have you not heard? Master Yodel is dead!"
"Whaaaat?!" roared Drax.
"Yes, my Lord. They say he was slain, first by a barbarian woman, and then by the gods, and then by a madman from the East... but I don't know, my Lord!" cried the page, shrinking back from the terrible look on Drax's face, "I don't know!"
"Enough!" snarled the Lord of Yarhaven. "Get out of here -- and if you tell anyone what I asked you, I'll slit your throat for you!"
"Yes, my Lord," squeaked the page, and shot away like a sparrow released fronm a cage.
