This Toogwik Tuk is aggressive," Grguch said to Hakuun, and to Jack, though of course Grguch didn't know that. They stood off to the side of the gathering force as it realigned itself for a march to the west. "He would have us wage war with Obould."

"He claims that Obould would wage war with us," the shaman agreed after a quick internal dialogue with Jack.

Grguch grinned as if nothing in the world would please him more. "I like this Toogwik Tuk," he said. "He speaks with Gruumsh."

"Are you not curious as to why Obould halted his march?" Hakuun asked, though the question had originated with Jack. "His reputation is for ferocity, but he builds walls instead of tearing them down."

"He fears rivals," Grguch assumed. "Or he has grown comfortable. He walks away from Gruumsh."

"You do not intend to convince him otherwise."

Grguch grinned even more wickedly. "I intend to kill him and take his armies. I speak to Gruumsh, and I will please Gruumsh."

"Your message will be blunt, or coaxed at first?"

Grguch looked at the shaman curiously then motioned with his chin toward a bag set off to the side, a sack that held Oktule's head.

A wry smile widened on Hakuun's face. "I can strengthen the message," he promised, and Grguch was pleased.

Hakuun looked back over his shoulder and spoke a few arcane words, strung together with dramatic inflection. Jack had predicted all of it, and had already worked the primary magic for it. Out of the shadows walked Oktule, headless and grotesque. The animated zombie strode stiff-legged to the sack and shifted aside the flaps. It stood straight a moment later and moved slowly toward the pair, cradling its lost head in both hands at its midsection.

Hakuun looked to Grguch and shrugged sheepishly. The chieftain laughed.

"Blunt," he said. "I only wish that I might view Obould's face when the message is delivered."

Inside Hakuun's head, Jack whispered, and Hakuun echoed to Grguch, "It can be arranged."

Grguch laughed even louder.

With a bellow of "Kokto Gung Karuck," Grguch's orc force, a thousand strong and growing, began its march to the west, the clan of the Wolf Jaw taking the southern flank, Clan Karuck spearheading the main mass.

In the very front walked the zombie Oktule, holding a message for Obould.

They heard the resonating grumble of "Kokto Gung Karuck," and from a high mountain ridge not far northeast of Mithral Hall, Drizzt, Bruenor, and the others saw the source of that sound, the march of Clan Karuck and its allies.

"It is Grguch," Tos'un told the group. "The conspirators are leading him to Obould."

"To fight him?" Bruenor asked.

"Or to convince him," said Tos'un.

Bruenor snorted at him, but Tos'un just looked at Drizzt and Hralien and shook his head, unwilling to concede the point.

"Obould has shown signs that he wishes to halt his march," Drizzt dared say.

"Tell it to the families of me boys who died at the wall a couple o' nights ago, elf," Bruenor growled.

"That was Grguch, perhaps," Drizzt offered, careful to add the equivocation.

"That was orcs," Bruenor shot back. "Orcs is orcs is orcs, and th' only thing they're good for is fertilizing the fields. Might that their rotting bodies'll help grow trees to cover the scars in yer Moonwood," he added, addressing Hralien, who blanched and rocked back on his heels.

"To cover the blood of Innovindil," Bruenor added, glaring at Drizzt.

But Drizzt didn't back from the stinging comment. "Information is both our weapon and our advantage," he said. "We would do well to learn more of this march, its purpose, and where it might turn next." He looked down and to the north, where the black swarm of Grguch's army was clear to see along the rocky hills. "Besides, our trails parallel anyway."

Bruenor waved his hand dismissively and turned away, Pwent following him back to the food spread out at the main encampment.

"We need to get closer to them," Drizzt told the remaining half a dozen. "We need to learn the truth of their march."

Regis took a deep breath as Drizzt finished, for he felt the weight of the task on his shoulders.

"The little one will be killed," Tos'un said to Drizzt, using the drow language, Low Drow, that only he and Drizzt understood.

Drizzt looked at him hard.

"They are warriors, fierce and alert," Tos'un explained.

"Regis is more than he seems," Drizzt replied in the same Under-dark language.

"So is Grguch." As he finished, Tos'un glanced at Hralien, as if to invite Drizzt to speak to the elf for confirmation.

"Then I will go," said Drizzt.

"There is a better way," Tos'un replied. "I know of one who can walk right in and speak with the conspirators."

That gave Drizzt pause, an expression of doubt clouding his face and obvious to everyone nearby.

"Ye plannin' to tell us what ye're talking about?" Torgar said impatiently.

Drizzt looked at him then back at Tos'un. He nodded, to both.

After a brief private conversation with Cordio, Drizzt pulled Tos'un off to the side to join the priest.

"Ye sure?" Cordio asked Drizzt when they were alone. "Ye're just gonna have to kill him."

Tos'un tensed at the words, and Drizzt fought hard to keep the smile from his face.

"He might be full o' more information that we can coax out o' him," Cordio went on, playing his role perfectly. "Might be that a few tendays o' torture'll bring us answers about Obould."

"Or lies to stop the torture," Drizzt replied, but he ended the forthcoming debate with an upraised hand, for it didn't matter anyway. "I am sure," he said simply, and Cordio heaved an "oh-if-I-must" sigh, the perfect mix of disgust and resignation.

Cordio began to chant and slowly dance around the startled Tos'un. The dwarf cast a spell - a harmless dweomer that would have cured any diseases that Tos'un might have contracted, though of course, Tos'un didn't know that, and recognized only that the dwarf had sent some magical energy into his body. Another harmless spell followed, then a third, and with each casting, Cordio narrowed his eyes and sharpened his inflection just a bit more, making it all seem quite sinister.

"The arrow," the dwarf commanded, holding a hand out toward Drizzt though his intense stare never left Tos'un.

"What?" Drizzt asked, and Cordio snapped his fingers impatiently. Drizzt recovered quickly and drew an arrow from his magical quiver, handing it over as demanded.

Cordio held it up before his face and chanted. He waggled the fingers of his free hand over the missile's wicked tip. Then he moved it toward Tos'un, who shrank back but did not retreat. The dwarf lifted the arrow up to Tos'un's head then lowered it.

"The head, or the heart?" he asked, turning to Drizzt.

Drizzt looked at him curiously.

"Telled ye it was a good spell," Cordio lied. "Not that it'll much matter with that durned bow o' yers. Blast his head from his shoulders or take out half his chest? Yer choice."

"The head," said the amused drow. "No, the chest. Shoot center mass...."

"Ye can't miss either way," the dwarf promised.

Tos'un stared hard at Drizzt.

"Cordio has placed an enchantment upon you," Drizzt explained as Cordio continued to chant and wave the arrow before Tos'un's slender chest. The dwarf ended by tapping the arrowhead against the drow, right over his heart.

"This arrow is now attuned to you," Drizzt said, taking the arrow from the dwarf. "If it is shot, it will find your heart, unerringly. You cannot dodge it. You cannot deflect it. You cannot block it."

Tos'un's look was skeptical.

"Show 'im, elf," Cordio said.

Drizzt hesitated for effect.

"We're shielded from the damned orcs," the priest insisted. "Show 'im."

Looking back at Tos'un, Drizzt still saw doubt, and that he could not allow. He drew Taulmaril from his shoulder, replaced the "enchanted" arrow in his quiver and took out a different one. As he set it, he turned and targeted, then let fly at a distant boulder.

The magical bolt split the air like a miniature lightning bolt, flashing fast and true. It cracked into the stone and blasted through with a sharp retort that had Regis and the other dwarves jumping with surprise. It left only a smoking hole in the stone where it had hit.

"The magic of the surface dwellers is strange and powerful, do not doubt," Drizzt warned his fellow drow.

"Ye ain't got a chest plate thick enough," Cordio added, and he tossed an exaggerated wink at Tos'un then turned with a great laugh and ambled away.

"What is this about?" Tos'un asked in the drow tongue.

"You wish to play the role of scout, so I will let you."

"But with the specter of death walking beside me."

"Of course," said Drizzt. "Were it just me, I might trust you."

Tos'un tilted his head, curious, trying to get a measure of Drizzt.

"Fool that I am," Drizzt added. "But it is not just me, and if I am to entrust you with this, I need to ensure that my friends will not be harmed by my decision. You hinted that you can walk right into their camp."

"The conspirators know that I am no friend of Obould's."

"Then I will allow you to prove your worth. Go and learn what you may. I will be near, bow in hand."

"To kill me if I deceive you."

"To ensure the safety of my friends."

Tos'un began to slowly shake his head.

"You will not go?" Drizzt asked.

"You need not do any of this, but I understand," Tos'un replied. "I will go as I offered. You will come to know that I am not deceiving you."

By the time the two dark elves got back to the rest of the group, Cordio had informed the others of what had transpired, and of the plan going forward. Bruenor stood with his hands on his hips, clearly unconvinced, but he merely gave a "harrumph" and turned away, letting Drizzt play out his game.

The two drow set off from the others after nightfall, moving through the shadows with silent ease. They picked their way toward the main orc encampment, dodging guards and smaller camps, and always with Tos'un several steps in the lead. Drizzt followed with Taulmaril in hand, the deadly "enchanted" arrow set on its string - at least, Drizzt hoped he had taken out the same arrow Cordio had played with, or that if he had not, Tos'un hadn't noticed.

As they neared the main group, crossing along the edge of a clearing that was centered by a large tree, Drizzt whispered for Tos'un to stop. Drizzt paused for a few heartbeats, hearing the rhythm of the night. He waved for Tos'un to follow out to the tree. Up Drizzt went, so gracefully that it seemed as if he had walked along a fallen log rather than up a vertical trunk. On the lowest branch, he paused and looked around then turned his attention on Tos'un below.

Drizzt dropped a sword belt, both of Tos'un's weapons sheathed.

You would trust me? the son of House Barrison Del'Armgo signaled up with his fingers, using the intricate silent language of the drow.

Drizzt's answer was simple, and reflected on his impassive expression. I have nothing to lose. I care nothing for that sword - it destroys more than it helps. You will drop it and your other blade to the ground when you return to the tree, or I will retrieve it from the grasp of the dying orc who took it from you after I put an arrow through your heart.

Tos'un stared at him long and hard, but had no retort against the simple and straightforward logic. He looked down at the sword belt, at the hilt of Khazid'hea, and truly he was glad to have the sword back in hand.

He disappeared into the darkness a moment later, and Drizzt could only hope that his guess regarding Tos'un's veracity had been correct. For there had been no spell, of course, Cordio's grand exhibition being no more than an elaborate ruse.

Tos'un was truly torn as he crossed the orc lines to the main encampment. Known by the Wolf Jaw orcs sprinkled among the Clan Karuck sentries, he had no trouble moving in, and found Dnark and Ung-thol easily enough.

"I have news," he told the pair.

Dnark and Ung-thol exchanged suspicious looks. "Then speak it," Ung-thol bade him.

"Not here." Tos'un glanced around, as if expecting to find spies behind every rock or tree. "It is too important."

Dnark studied him for a few moments. "Get Toogwik..." he started to say to Ung-thol, but Tos'un cut him short.

"No. For Dnark and Ung-thol alone."

"Regarding Obould."

"Perhaps," was all the drow would answer, and he turned and started away. With another look at each other, the two orcs followed him into the night, all the way back to the edge of the field where Drizzt Do'Urden waited in a tree.

"My friends are watching," Tos'un said, loudly enough for Drizzt, with his keen drow senses, to hear.

Drizzt tensed and drew back Taulmaril, wondering if he was about to be revealed.

Tos'un would die first, he decided.

"Your friends are dead," Dnark replied.

"Three are," said Tos'un.

"You have made others. I salute you."

Tos'un shook his head with disgust at the pathetic attempt at sarcasm, wondering why he had ever suffered such creatures to live.

"There is a sizable drow force beneath us," he explained, and the two orcs, predictably, blanched. "Watching us - watching you."

He let that hang there for a few heartbeats, watching the two shift uncomfortably.

"Before she died, Kaer'lic called to them, to Menzoberranzan, my home. There was glory and wealth to be found, she promised them, and that call from a priestess of Lady Lolth could not go unheeded. And so they have come, to watch and to wait, at first. You are advancing toward Obould."

"Ob - King Obould," Dnark corrected rather stiffly, "has summoned Chieftain Grguch to his side."

Tos'un wore a knowing grin. "The drow hold no love for Obould," he explained, and indeed, it seemed to Drizzt as if the orc chieftain relaxed a bit at that.

"You go to pay fealty? Or to wage war?"

The two orcs looked at each other again.

"King Obould summoned Clan Karuck, and so we go," Ung-thol said with clear determination.

"Grguch attacked the Moonwood," Tos'un replied. "Grguch attacked Mithral Hall. Without Obould's permission. He will not be pleased."

"Perhaps..." Dnark started.

"He will not be pleased at all," Tos'un interrupted. "You know this. It is why you brought Clan Karuck forth from their deep hole."

"Obould has no heart for the fight," Dnark said with a sudden sneer. "He has lost the words of Gruumsh. He would barter and..." He stopped and took a deep breath, and Ung-thol picked up the thought.

"Perhaps the presence of Grguch will inspire Obould and remind him of his duty to Gruumsh," the shaman said.

"It will not," said Tos'un. "And so my people watch and wait. If Obould wins, we will travel back to the lower Underdark. If Grguch prevails, perhaps there is cause for us to come forth."

"And if Obould and Grguch join together to sweep the north-land?" Dnark asked.

Tos'un laughed at the preposterous statement.

Dnark laughed, too, after a moment.

"Obould has forgotten the will of Gruumsh," Dnark said bluntly. "He sent an emissary to parlay with the dwarves, to beg forgiveness for Grguch's attack."

Tos'un could not hide his surprise.

"An emissary who never arrived, of course," the orc chieftain explained.

"Of course. And so Grguch and Dnark will remind Obould?"

The orc didn't reply.

"You will kill Obould, and replace him with Grguch, for the will of Gruumsh?"

No answer again, but it was apparent from the posture and expressions of the two orcs that the last remark hit closer to the truth.

Tos'un smiled at them and nodded. "We will watch, Chieftain Dnark. And we will wait. And I will take great pleasure in witnessing the death of Obould Many-Arrows. And greater pleasure in taking the head of King Bruenor and crossing the River Surbrin to lay waste to the wider lands beyond."

The drow gave a curt bow and turned away. "We are watching," he warned as he started off. "All of it."

"Listen for the Horn of Karuck," Dnark said. "When you hear it blow, know that King Obould nears the end of his reign."

Tos'un didn't so much as offer a glance up at Drizzt as he crossed the clearing to the far side, but soon after the orcs had headed back to their encampment, the rogue drow returned to the base of the tree.

"Your belt," Drizzt whispered down, but Tos'un was already undoing it. He let it fall to the ground and stepped back.

Drizzt hopped down and retrieved it.

"You might have prepared them to say as much," Drizzt remarked.

"Ask the sword."

Drizzt looked down at Khazid'hea skeptically. "It is not to be trusted."

"Then demand of it," said Tos'un.

But Drizzt merely slung the sword belt over his shoulder, motioning for Tos'un to lead the way back to the waiting dwarves.

Whatever Tos'un's position, whether it was out of a change of heart or simple pragmatism, Drizzt had no reason to doubt what he had heard, and one statement in particular kept repeating in his thoughts, the orc's claim that Obould had "sent an emissary to parlay with the dwarves, to beg forgiveness for Grguch's attack."

Obould would not march. For the orc king, the war was at its end. But for many of his subjects, apparently, that was not so pleasing a thought.

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