Teri McLaren
We'll take the path that veers toward Drufalden's mountain. She will supply us with more Ninnite loyals."
"Well, yes, she certainly has enough of them. But there are the slaves. The slaves are a different matter. What if they see me?"
"It's been ten years, but it's true they probably haven't forgotten you. But they're slaves, you spineless vermin. You are the Rex Serpens! So remember: loyal Ninnites only. My best men have come from Drufalden's training grounds, the two most recent of which are spending eternity as gargoyles on your temple. Well, until the top half fell. That reminds me- Saelin? Where are you?" she called loudly.
She shook white sand from the toe of her dainty boot, dabbed at her hair, searching for something to secure a fallen curl with. She finally settled on Rotapan's now useless bone key, which still hung dripping from the sash at his tunic. He gave it over reluctantly.
"For the glory of Lord Chelydrus, I can do this," he said, staring at the ruin of his temple. He couldn't be sure from this distance, but it looked like it had stopped falling. Perhaps the old parts were still standing-the prophecy hadn't yet come true. He could rebuild… "Where do you want them and when?" he snarled.
"Have them assembled at the Borderlands. As soon as they can get there. You will tell them to wait for my orders when I arrive."
"The Borderlands?" Rotapan twitched his mustache with a grimace of unbelief. "You can't get there from here. The elves- How am I supposed to-" He fell silent when he saw her expression. "Right. The Borderlands."
"We must hurry. We'll take the old caravan road toward Drufalden; I suppose you can go with us until we reach her mountain. This business must be concluded forthwith. I have a wedding to attend. Where is Saelin…?" she muttered.