Of course the hold person spell didn’t work. The reason was immediately obvious. She could no longer feel Pelor’s presence.

“You be quiet, Stranger Kreet,” Tonnin said, and was about to hit her with his walking stick.

She grabbed it before it connected.

“Oh, sure!” she said in Common. “Abandon me now.”

There was no struggle over the stick. She’d wrenched it from Tonnin’s hands easily.

“Well guess what, Lord of Light? I don’t need you anymore!”

Instantly she swept it around, hearing it crack against Tokkin’s left foot. But she knew her own strength instinctively. She’d used force enough to knock him down - but not enough to do any real damage. Then she kicked Tonnin full in the belly, sending him to the side of the room.

“If you’re going to do this to me now, just because I got a little pissed off when you didn’t lift a finger to prevent the fire…”

She leaped back to her feet, grabbing Tokkin’s stick on the way and holding it to his neck.

She was starting to cry again. It would be so easy. This stupid kobold’s skull might as well have been an eggshell. And she couldn’t be blamed for it.

“Stranger Kreet! No! Do not hurt my brother!” she heard from behind her, but the white noise in her ears was rising again and the voice came as if from far away.

So easy. But she wouldn’t be able to mend it afterwards. Her god was gone. She was truly on her own.

She felt Tonnin’s hands grab the stick - not to wrench it away from her, but to prevent her from swinging it round. He was begging her on his knees. His brother’s eyes were wide with fear of her. She had the other stick. She could dispatch either of these with ease.

But she felt her blood cooling. It wasn’t their fault. It was part of kobold nature apparently. They wouldn’t have called it slavery exactly, though it amounted to the same thing. When faced by those of superior power, they became suppliant very rapidly. They were natural-born slaves because they didn’t think of themselves as slaves when in the presence of a master. And yet, they were also very quick to perceive a change in the power structure and would naturally assume the role of master when they were in power.

Except when under overwhelming attack against their family. They had a very strong sense of family and clan. So good kobold slaves should always be taken away from their family. When on their own, it was very rare for a kobold slave to rebel. Almost unheard of.

She pulled the stick away from Tokkin’s head. Tonnin released the stick, grovelling before her.

“Stand, you two,” she growled, .”And do not treat me like that again. I am no one’s property. Understand? I don’t know who Goldworm is, but I could have killed you both. I chose not to, but now you will serve me instead.”

The two brothers nodded rapidly, crouching low in an exaggerated parody of obeisance.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Stand up you two. Look, I’m not in a good mood right now, and you trying to make me your slave didn’t help. Let’s go on to your clan.”

“Certainly! This way, Master Kreet!”

“And don’t call me Master… well. On second thought… go ahead and call me Master. For now.”

Of course the word didn’t carry quite the same connotation in Kobold, she thought as they led on through the tunnels. It was more like “Lord” or “Superior”. It implied not only the implied power, but also a willingness for the underlings to be led. Yet to Kreet, who had been in the company of free humans almost all of her life, it felt terribly wrong to play this role.

But for now it was probably wisest to do so. It would not do to enter a kobold clan on anything less than an equal footing. To enter as an obvious superior would probably be even better.

“Not far,” Tonnin was saying. “Maybe an hour.”

But Kreet barely heard him. She was watching Tokkin hobble along on his injured foot. She knew she hadn’t hit it too hard, but she winced in sympathy with every step. He didn’t complain. He wouldn’t complain. He was now the servant and had no right to complain. In his mind he was probably blaming himself for being so presumptuous as to treat his natural Lord as his own slave. He would not blame her. He would probably be grateful for not having been killed outright.

But she had caused him this pain. And she couldn’t heal it now. She winced with every step he took in empathy.

“Stop, Tonnin. Tokkin, how is your foot?”

“Hurts. But not too bad. I am okay.”

She handed him one of the walking sticks.

“Here. Maybe this will help. Tonnin, let’s slow down.”

She didn’t fail to see the bluish tint that came over both Tokkin and Tonnin.

“Yes, boys,” she thought. “Your Master is a real sweetheart. Great. Now I’ve got two willing slaves. Just what I always wanted.”

But it did hurt to know she could no longer use the power of Pelor. Now she was a monk at best. They were considered as holy as the Clerics, but they didn’t have direct access to Pelor’s power as Clerics did. When a boy or girl showed signs of such abilities, a wise parent would take them to a monastery - as had Brand and Karl’s parents. But most people who came to the monastery were without such abilities, yet had either a strong affinity for the monastery’s God or simply craved the discipline and safety of the monastery.

In a way, it was similar to the willing slavery of these kobolds. The monks lived under a system of servitude, certainly - though of course not under the caprice of a single master. But she could understand the willingness in a way. It absolved them of responsibility for their own lives. By following the instructions of their Abbot and the monastery’s Rule, they earned their keep and remained safe in an otherwise hostile world. It certainly had an appeal.

It really came down to a choice between freedom and security. Kobolds tended towards security - right up until they saw red. But an attack on a clan was an attack on that security. Kobolds could plan. They could create their traps ahead of time. They could be quite sensible in defense. But if those defenses and traps failed their eyes would turn red. As a last defense, they would go on a suicidal and barbaric attack with no planning or reason left to them. It was instinctual. Kobolds clans didn’t surrender. Nor did they ever run away when their clan was under direct attack. It wasn’t that they were particularly brave. It wasn’t that they were too stupid to know that they could retreat and rebuild to fight again another day. It was that once they were under direct assault, they could do nothing but full-on, all out attack.

She had overcome that instinct. It was hard, but she’d done so. On two occasions she had felt herself almost overwhelmed with the attack instinct. Once when she’d met the knight Mekelson and he’d boasted of killing her kind. But she had not allowed herself the instinctual response - though it was pulling at her so strongly.

The other was when she’d kicked a patron at a tavern who had gotten too drunk and too aggressive. It had been a close thing. She wanted to leave her talons out, knowing it would spill his intestines and kill the lout. But at the last moment she’d managed to retract them. It had taken a life of living with humans to learn to restrain herself, but she had done it.

She thought then about these two kobolds in front of her. How would they react in human company? Certainly their first reaction, if not under direct threat, would be to become docile and take the role of slaves. The Drow had taken advantage of that and knew how to treat them. It’s how Kallid was able to slip away from his bondage of slavery so easily by simply leaving with Kreet and Sigmundurr.

Kobolds simply didn’t want to leave. There were no Drow guards who enforced the slavery rules - they didn’t need to, for kobolds anyway. In a Drow city, any kobold was where he was because he was told to be there. If Kallid were leaving with Kreet and Sigmundurr, it was obvious he was supposed to be there.

Of course, they hadn’t really taken love into consideration. But then, a kobold such as Kreet who actually didn’t want to be a slave was so rare that they’d not had to consider it. Kallid had changed a lot since then, but he’d also given up one form of servitude for another. She’d not really considered that before. In a real sense, she had become his master. But surely it was different if it was for love - wasn’t it? That wasn’t really slavery… was it?

She was shaken from these thoughts by Tonnin.

“We approach, Stranger Kreet. Our clan is on this side of Goldworm.”

Light was the first thing she noticed. It was not the yellow light of torches or the Underdark. It was sunlight. She had not been underground long enough yet for it to bother her, but more importantly, it was not bothering Tonnin or Tokkin either. They were obviously used to sunlight!

Then the tunnel opened out. The space was huge - almost as big as the Underdark city-cave. In its walls, kobolds had tunneled out living quarters, while scaffolding rose high along the curved walls towards the opening above where the sky was seen clearly. On this scaffolding, more kobolds worked even as they approached - carving what appeared to be artwork of some form into the rock above.

The whole opening was shaped like a huge bowl. The sides covered with kobold habitation. Distantly she saw the far side of the bowl was similarly made. It wasn’t a city though. There couldn’t have been more than a few scores of kobolds all together, but they’d made themselves a quite comfortable home here.

Yet for all that, Kreet barely noticed. She could not tear her eyes away from the golden sight that lay in the center of the bowl. He was huge. His wingspan was easily the width of an entire city block back in the slums. Kobolds came and went around him, and as she looked closer she saw they were cleaning the scales of a leg and lower belly - taking buckets back and forth from a stream that ran along one side of the bowl.

Kreet realized she had stopped dead in her tracks. She closed her mouth.

“Goldworm,” Tokkin said simply.

As if on cue, the dragon’s eyes opened. They gave off light - like a kobold’s. For a moment it looked to be pure sunlight, but rapidly dimmed to a comforting blue.

“Kreet,” it thundered. “Welcome! I would speak with you.”

All the kobolds fell to their knees wherever they were.

“Get down!” hissed Tonnin. “He speaks!”

“He speaks in Common,” Kreet smiled. “He calls me.”