Saving Thanehaven Read Free Page B

around at the other gargoyles. “What do you guys call him?”
    “Nothing,” answers a gargoyle with a beaky snout. “We call him nothing.”
    “Well, he’s not nothing. And neither are you.”Rufus puts his hands on his hips. “See, this is what I’m talking about. Everyone deserves to have a name. Everyone’s entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. If Lord Harrowmage wants you to guard his fortress, he should at least give you something in return. It’s only fair.”
    There’s a low muttering as the gargoyles converse together. Finally, the swamp gargoyle turns back to Rufus and asks, “What kind of thing should he give us?”
    “I don’t know. What do you want?”
    “Mud,” says the swamp gargoyle.
    “A name,” rasps the beaky gargoyle.
    “Freedom,” brays a gargoyle with huge, curly horns and pig tusks.
    “Right on.” Rufus lifts his clenched fist in a brief salute. “I hear you. And guess what? Lord Harrowmage can give you all those things. But first, I’ve got to talk to him.”
    The gargoyles hesitate. At last one of them says, “Why?”
    “So
you
can talk to him.” Rufus is obviously hoping that this will satisfy the gargoyles, but they still seem confused. “Okay, look,” he argues patiently. “Does Lord Harrowmage often come out here to chat with you?”
    “No.”
    “No.”
    “He never leaves his fortress,” the swamp gargoyle volunteers.
    “Exactly! And if he won’t come out, you’ll have to go in. But you can’t go anywhere while you’re chained up. Which is why I have to speak to Lord Harrowmage myself.” Rufus spreads his hands. “Let me through, and I’ll set you free, okay? It’s that simple.”
    Watching the gargoyles from his salt-dusted hollow, Noble wonders if Rufus really wants to see hundreds of gargoyles let loose upon the land. Noble doesn’t trust those gargoyles. They’re dumb beasts with big fangs and razor-sharp claws. Yet Rufus seems to think they won’t run amok.
    Unless, of course, he’s lying.
    “You want us to grant you passage?” the beaky gargoyle asks Rufus. “So you can tell Lord Harrowmage to unchain us?”
    “Yes.” Rufus nods.
    “But why would he do that?” inquires another, cannier gargoyle. “If he’s chained us up, why would he want to let us go?”
    “Because he won’t need guards anymore. Once I’ve talked to him, the fighting will stop, and everyone can enjoy themselves.” Suddenly, Rufus spins around and beckons to Noble. “My friend and I have come here to discuss peace terms. That’s why there are going to be so many changes. Hey, Noble! Stand up!”
    Slowly, reluctantly, Noble rises to his feet. The instant he reveals himself, the gargoyles unfold their wings as if they’re raising their hackles.
    “The Slayer!” a gargoyle hisses from somewhere down the line. “The Slayer is our foe!”
    “Not anymore, he’s not,” Rufus promises. “He’s sick of fighting. He’s come here to surrender.”
    Noble swallows. But he holds his tongue.
    “I mean, just look at the poor guy.” Rufus waves a careless hand. “He’s lost his boots. He’s not even armed.”
    “He has a knife,” the canny gargoyle points out.
    “You’re right. He does.” After a moment’s thought, Rufus offers a solution. “What if I ask him to throw it away? Would that make you trust him?”
    Noble is becoming more and more disturbed by this ploy—if it
is
a ploy. He realizes, however, that it’s too late to back out now. He has no boots, no Smite, no plans for a strategic withdrawal. Following Rufus is his only option.
    “It’ll be an act of good faith,” Rufus is saying. “Come on, guys. I’m not going in without Noble. And if I don’t go in, you don’t get your freedom. It’s that simple.” As the gargoyles begin to consult one another in a low, thick, disconcerted buzz, he leans toward Noble and whispers, “You won’t need that knife, I guarantee. This is much easier than I expected.”
    “You’re really