If Galimer or Rozt'a had said those words, Tiep would have rejoiced, but Dru was different. When Dru conceded a point, it was time to watch your back.
"Of course, when you put everything on the table, you're taking coincidence and making it deliberate. For example, you've got to assume that Sheemzher not only knew I was going to take the back way after I left the charterhouse, but that he arranged for those brutes to beat that goblin child. Not to mention the timing—a few moments one way or the other and either the chicken coop would have been empty or I'd have found a corpse. Same thing in Weathercote Wood with the reaver and, more important, with you, Tiep. If Rozt'a hadn't sent you scrambling up that tree, would you have stolen that amber ... on your way into the forest?"
According to Galimer, who probably knew what he was talking about, Druhallen couldn't cast charm-type spells because he didn't know any and, besides, Tiep was supposedly immune to lesser magics, especially charms and enchantments. So, there wasn't anything sorcerous about Dru's dark eyes when they nailed Tiep where he stood. His stare was just the smug look of a man who knew how his foster-son's mind worked.
Weakly, Tiep tried to get back to where he'd started. "I can take the watch. There's no need to wake Rozt'a. If she gets mad, I'll say it's my fault."
Druhallen shook his head. "Lies are lies, Tiep, even the ones you tell to protect someone. If I let you take the watch, it's my responsibility ... and my fault, if you do something we all regret."
"I won't," Tiep insisted.
"See to it," Dru said as he stood up.
Tiep waited until Druhallen was stretched out an arm's length from Rozt'a's blankets and breathing easily. He walked between them, wishing he had a lamp. Neither of them twitched out of turn and Tiep felt safe heading toward the horse lines and the place where Sheemzher slept beside his spear. Maybe the goblin had made plans with Amarandaris; there was only one way to find out for certain.
Striking fast, Tiep grabbed the sleeping goblin from behind. He clapped one hand over Sheemzher's mouth to keep him quiet and pressed his other forearm hard against the goblin's windpipe. Sheemzher struggled—the dog-face had a certain wild-animal bravado—but settled down fast when Tiep squeezed hard and cut off his air.
"I've got questions. You're going to answer them yes or no. You say yes by nodding your head, no by shaking it sideways. Got it?"
The goblin's chin bobbed beneath Tiep's. It was the correct response, but Tiep hadn't expected Sheemzher to catch on so quickly and jerked the goblin from his blankets with more force than he needed. He didn't let Sheemzher plant his feet firmly on the ground, but dragged him on his heels past the horse line. And past the blood line, too, which probably accounted for Sheemzher's renewed struggles. Tiep applied a little more pressure on the goblin's throat and calm was restored.
"Who do you work for?"
Sheemzher made unintelligible noises in his throat. Tiep felt foolish—his first serious question couldn't be answered with a yes or no.
"Do you work for the Zhentarim?"
Because Tiep held the goblin from behind, he couldn't see anything of Sheemzher's face, but the goblin flinched when he said "Zhentarim." The chin tap that followed the flinch wasn't convincing. Tiep shoved Sheemzher against the rock behind the ledge and spun him around.
"Liar!" Tiep hissed. He laid a short, vicious punch into Sheemzher's mid-section then relaxed the pressure on the goblin's throat. "What did they give you to betray us?"
The little, close-set eyes widened and showed pale, faintly glowing rings around the pupils. "Bad men. All bad men. Sheemzher not work for bad men. Sheemzher not work for Zhentarim." He turned the last word into an eerie song.
Tiep unleashed another punch precisely where he'd landed the first, a painful persuasive technique he'd learned the hard way. Sheemzher's gut had to be burning. The goblin's knees buckled and he'd have gone down if Tiep hadn't kept him pinned against the stone.
"Who's waiting for us at Dekanter?"
"Ghistpok there? Beast Lord there?" Fear turned the goblin's words into questions.
Tiep raised his arm quickly, smacking the back of Sheemzher's skull against the rock. "The Black Network! Is Amarandaris on the Dawn Pass Trail right now, planning to get there ahead of us?"
Sheemzher stiffened. "Ask self, not Sheemzher. Sheemzher not talk black-lord Amarandaris."
"I've got no business with him. You stick to the truth and leave me out of this," Tiep snapped and delivered his hardest punch yet.
The goblin sagged. For a heartbeat Tiep thought he'd seriously damaged the dog-face. The stench was bad and sudden, like a man dying from the waist down. Tiep wrinkled his nose dramatically.
"What's the point of wearing clothes, Sheemzher, when all you can do is soil them?"
