Shaddar sits next to Kug as the hobgoblin drives the team of horses through the darkening roads of the slums. They have been traveling through the border zone and the wide avenues of the slums for hours and Shaddar is amazed at the size of the sprawling city. The traffic has been fairly congested on the side streets that they have followed – in order to attract less attention. The group of 16 hobgoblins that are walking on foot behind them also limits their speed.
The slow pace doesn’t bother Shaddar at all. He enjoys viewing the sights and scanning the minds of those around him. Despite the ground they have covered thus far, the populace is consistently small-minded and unaware of the nature of the world they inhabit. Any minds that he senses that seems too competent are avoided as Shaddar directs Kug to take a detour.
The thoughts that dwell on the many rumors that Shaddar has spread by word and by deed are almost ubiquitous. The fear in the city is rich and finely textured, with so many variations that it will be impossible to determine how the rumors got started or what might be the truth.
They even drive past a ragged-looking fellow on a street corner with a sign that reads: “The Dark Times are nigh!” He is preaching doom and the end of all things to anyone who comes near him. Shaddar manages not to laugh out loud at the sight. Just.
Shaddar is a bit concerned that they will have trouble at the gates that exit the city walls, which are quite formidable and can be seen from quite a distance. There may be laws against hobgoblins leaving the city and any kind of inspection of the wagon will reveal the minotaur and a group of miserable slaves, chained together and gagged.
His worries are without any substance. Shaddar is amazed to discover that there are no guards of any kind at the gate – nor anyone manning the walls. As the wagon creaks out of Big City, Shaddar notices that the portcullis has been rusted open.
“It must have been decades since it was last used!” Shaddar thinks in amazement. “Idiots! What good does this fine wall serve if it can not protect the city from invaders? Why even have a wall? These people have had so few challenges for so long that they are fat and lazy. All to the better! After all, it is the fat sheep that tastes the most delicious…”
Once out of the city, the area is quite bare of human habitation. Shaddar calls for a quick rest so that the footsore hobgoblins can ride in the wagon and Toothsnatcher forces the slaves to walk while he stretches his legs and grunts in satisfaction at being free from the confines of the wagon.
The slaves include the three very weak and ill-used friends of Jorin and one of the thugs who used to work for Vicacilli. The rejected recruits have been kept on almost no food, little water, and without any exercise for days – the horrors that they have endured have broken their spirits and their thoughts are filled with despair. Vicacilli’s thug is in pretty good shape and still has his wits about him. Shaddar looks over the three weak slaves as they shuffle along the road critically.
“I’ll need to consume those three first,” he thinks, “before they spoil.”
“General Kug?” Shaddar says.
“Master?”
“Have your men arm themselves. Should we meet anyone on our way, you will have the honor of leading your men into battle. None shall witness our passage!”
The hobgoblins all cheer lustily and they trade laborer’s tools for those of warriors.
One of the hobgoblins is quite nervous to be on the road at night. He thinks, “I’ll be glad of having a sword! We’re coming up on the devil’s crossroad!”
As they proceed, Shaddar picks up more thoughts along these lines until he eventually hears the hobgoblins muttering about it to one another.
“What’s all that fearful talk about?” Shaddar says, irritated by their idiotic superstition, “Get your backbones to stiffen up!”
Kug sheepishly answers for the instantly quiet men under his command. “Sorry, master. It’s just that we’re coming to a crossroads. At night.”
“So?”
“Everybody knows that crossroads at night is where sometimes devils appear and try to steal or bargain for yer soul,” Kug explains. “We’ve all heard tales about it since we were weaned.”
Shaddar snorts. “Ridiculous! Folk tales told to scare hobgoblin pups! Even if an infernal minion were to appear, it would not dare to threaten me. Calm yourselves!”
The hobgoblins do calm down a bit at his bravado, but many of them are still quite certain that they may run into trouble at the crossroads ahead.
Shaddar warns Toothsnatcher to be on his guard mentally – just in case. The minotaur makes sure his axe is loose in it’s holster.
Within a few moments, Shaddar comes within range to detect mental activity at or around the crossroads and he is quite agitated to discover that there are indeed several beings up ahead.
“Ah! Here come some… victims!” the closest minds thinks. The other minds are all filled with thoughts of numbers. Very odd.
When they get to within 15 feet of the crossroad intersection, there is a puff of smoke. Quite obviously an alchemical smoke bomb – of low-quality too. The hobgoblins are frightened and begin to squawk.
When the smoke clears on the breeze, Shaddar sees a figure who is wearing red make-up, all red clothing, with small horns and a tail attached to his body. It is a human who is dressed in a devil costume!
The man speaks loudly in a strange, nasal voice: “Ah-ha! Customers!” And he rubs his hands together greedily while leering at the wagon and the dim figures who ride in it.
Many of the hobgoblins panic.
“Oh, no!”
“A devil!”
“Let’s get out of here!”
Kug jerks on the reigns and brings the wagon to a halt. Shaddar sighs heavily. Toothsnatcher wheezes in a bovine chuckle at the sight of ‘the devil’ and the fright that it has caused in the hobgoblins.
“How fortuitous and serendipitous!” Shaddar says in a loud and happy tone as he hops to the ground. “You will be a customer of mine. The first of many, I hope.”
The man in the devil costume seems a bit concerned – his thoughts are filled with worries that these travelers are looking for a actual devil to make a deal with. “It’s always a long shot and it looks like I may be paying out that bet! Curses!”
Shaddar gives Toothsnatcher some mental instructions as they both approach the interloper. He continues speaking, “Toothsnatcher? Tell this fellow what it is we sell.”
The minotaur hefts his axe and grunts, “Death.”
“Give the man a free taste,” Shaddar says with a laugh.
The fellow in the devil costume holds up both hands in a delaying gesture. “Wait! Don’t you want to sell your soul to –“
Toothsnatcher’s axe bites deeply and cuts off the rest of the man’s words. The human expires quite soundlessly other than dropping to the road with a moist thud.
Shaddar calls out to the other minds that he can detect. “The rest of you – show yourselves!” Their thoughts run an interesting range from curiosity to panic.
“Wait. What? This isn’t right. For 100 gold I expect things to go right!”
“What’re the odds of that happening? The bookie didn’t even tell me that this was an option to bet on! I’m so going to complain.”
“Oh, no! And here I am – alone! No bodyguards! Gracious!”
“Mist Demons! Vurt is dead! Dead!”
Shaddar understands. This is apparently some kind of betting game – indulged in by the rich. These spectators were here for a good show and have placed bets as to how long it would take for the ‘victims’ to flee from before the fake devil that so recently had been standing in the crossroads.
“The rules have changed, fellows! Come out here where I can explain how it is now going to be played!” Shaddar calls out.
Two of the men break from their hide and try to flee. With a huff of annoyance, Shaddar sends Toothsnatcher after them. The heavy sounds of the jumping, charging minotaur soon ends in two wet whispers followed by the fleshy sounds of bodies hitting the ground.
Shaddar calls out to the remainder of the terrified spectators, “I do so hate it when my instructions are not followed. I ask again: come out here where I can explain how my game is played!”
Three other men slowly rise from the hide and walk out with their hands empty and slightly raised as Toothsnatcher looms behind them – cutting off all hope of escape.
“Before I tell you about my exciting game,” Shaddar says reasonably, “Explain to my minions here what this racket is all about, please.”
Sheepishly, the youngest-looking man tells a wide-eyed group of hobgoblins about the game and the rumors that are spread to insure that the common folk will react in an amusing manner that will provide them good sport.
By the end of the explanation, the hobgoblins are livid. Yet another lie that the humans have told them! The matter-of-fact description serves to enrage Kug in particular as the arrogance of it all hits home.
Toothsnatcher heaves the dead bodies of the two men that fled to the middle of the road once the account has been concluded. He proceeds to loot the bodies, stripping them right before the horrified eyes of the three spectators.
Shaddar ignores these goings-on and asks, “And how much was the pot for this particular game?”
“500 gold?”
Shaddar motions from the speaker to the minotaur and the small chest is dutifully handed over at once.
“Thank you. And now, we’re going to play a new game, gentlemen. The pot for this game will be of much higher value than the one you have just wisely given up. It will be in the form of… a lottery.”
“A lottery?” one fellow asks.
“Yes,” Shaddar drawls. “The winner will get to keep the most precious of prizes – and the losers will wish that they had never played.” He turns from the humans and says to Toothsnatcher, “Cut me some different length of leather from that belt you have there. Make one shorter than the rest.”
The hobgoblins all crowd around the richly-dressed humans, laughing and jeering as they are forced to play in Shaddar’s twisted game. The oldest man draws the short scrap of bloody leather, but he looks so terrified by his ordeal that he may have a heart attack at any moment. The two losers’ eyes are huge – their thoughts filled with denial.
“You are our winner, sir!” Shaddar says with excitement. “Now get out of here.”
Before the old man can leave, the hobgoblins roughly grab the losers, rip off their fine clothes and shackle them to the chain with the rest of the slaves. Shaddar is pleased with Kug’s initiative and the eagerness of his small army to do his bidding.
“But it’s freezing out here!” the old man says as he backs away.
“Ah! They do but enjoy the brisk night air, sir! It is none of your concern now,” Shaddar laughs, shooing the fellow back down the road with one hand.
“I have a delicate constitution, sir!” wails one of the unfortunates, “I won’t last 48 hours in these conditions!”
Shaddar looks down at his newest slave. “What makes you think you’ll live 48 hours?” He laughs and glances at Toothsnatcher. “I do like the optimistic ones. It is so much more satisfying when they break.”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 38 Chapter 40 >
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