Robin shivered inside his borrowed skin. It was cloudy and a slight drizzle misted down from the sky but that had nothing to do with his discomfort. He came from a very rainy island, after all. No, he was shivering because once again he had infiltrated the hobgoblins’ camp.

It was harder this time. There was a lot more activity, all of it highly directed. Something had the place all kinds of agitated.

Something was clearly up. For awhile the plan had worked, and several patrols made their way into Ruprecht’s grasp, but they suddenly dried up, and Robin had been ‘volunteered’ to find out why.

So far his investigations hadn’t turned up a reason. There were clear signs that the camp was being struck, preparing to move, but it was more than that. There were whispers and stray thoughts that made it clear that someone important had arrived at the camp.

Robin grimaced and adjusted the bale of goods he was portering over his left shoulder. It took a lot more to look busy enough not to be bothered, this trip. Accepting some actual jobs was the price. No dilly-dallying, just skimming what he could from overheard gossip and mind-read thoughts.

The camp was going to relocate, and soon. Robin tried to get a sense as to where but no one he was in range of seemed to be sharing that knowledge, if they even knew at all, which, well, they might or they might not.

‘…travelling all day. It hardly matters. Get your commanders, summon them to the command tent, and be quick about it. I have ord—information for them. Vital information.’

Robin’s blood went cold. He knew that voice! He’d hoped never to hear it again, but with his luck, he should hardly be surprised. Especially given the religious predilections of the hobgoblins he’d encountered here in Tarin-Tiran so far.

Gis. Robin caught sight of the priest out of the corner of his eye and tracked his movements as best he could without turning and making his interest obvious.

At least the snake was safely hidden behind the evil old man’s eye patch.

Gis was headed toward the tactical command tent that Robin had seen the inside of last time he was here, when he was posing as a scout. There was going to be a meeting there, soon. Robin had to know what was being said!

There was no way he’d be able to get inside, though. He;d have to find a way to lurk nearby, concealed by illusion or, even better, illusion and a bit of real cover. And just to make sure he didn’t miss anything, he needed to find a way to sneak Rerebos inside.

If the little dragon couldn’t find one himself.

Robin sent a pulse of urgency along his bond with the familiar and felt an immediate response. The little dragon would be here soon. Good. Now to find a hiding place close enough to the tactical command tent that would allow him to hear—possibly even watch by dipping in and out of Rerebos’s senses.

First he needed to deliver this bale of goods, though, and quickly. Robin hurried to his destination, forgetting all about overhearing gossip or the odd snatch of thought. Thought. Right. He’d need to find or make a small hole in the tent so he could see in and get a line of effect on those assembled therein. There was no way Gis, at least, wasn’t somehow involved in a larger plot of some kind.

Robin ditched his delivery, timing it to coincide with a couple others so it would be easier for him to slip away afterward. All the practice sneaking he’d had so far in this world paid off and he got away scot-free! Then it was a matter of using the same skills to slink through the camp, changing his appearance to that of a scout looking freshly returned from patrol. Any questions were deflected with the excuse of needing to report in right away.

When he made it to the vicinity of the tent Robin flicked a quick eye at the surroundings. Last time he was here there had been very little in the way of hiding places near the tent. That would have been tactically unsound. But luck was with him today! In the chaos of disassembling the camp, piles of goods had begun to sprout around the tent like mushrooms.

Robin slipped behind a stack of rough crates and began carefully picking his way around the perimeter of the tent, looking for the best place to conceal himself. About a third of the way around he found a large stack of supplies covered with a tarpaulin. The way it fell created a sheltered nook, almost like a small tent. Perfect.

Well, almost perfect. Robin conjured a knife from his storage and made a small slit in the tent fabric, working slowly so as not to make more than a minimum of noise. He propped the slit open with a bit of twig and covered the whole section with the illusion that the tent fabric was undamaged. He’d have to hope the wind didn’t pick up. Too much motion might make his little spy-hole stand out.

Now to conceal himself. Robin turned to wedge himself out of sight amongst the supplies. Slipping inside required a bit of a wriggle, but he managed. Then he layered and illusion over the whole section, deepening the shadows and concealing himself further.

Safe from idly discovery, Robin turned his attention to sussing out what was happening in the tent. The entrance was currently wide open, letting in a bright wedge of sunlight. It was in front and to the left of Robin’s position. Good for seeing who was arriving.

Gis was already inside. Robin didn’t have a great view of the priest. The tactical table with all of its maps was blocking most of the view in that direction. The scoutmaster was there as well, Robin realised, pacing back and forth like a stalking lion in a cage.

Robin felt a wary pulse at the back of his mind and the sensation of smug glee. Rerebos was inside already! Robin looked, but he couldn’t spot the little dragon anywhere. Good. If he couldn’t, it meant it was unlikely those inside could either. Well. Less likely anyway.

The bard carefully and quietly went through the words and gestures that activated the [Lesser Mindreading] spell. It took a while to get up and running to the point that he could pick off surface thoughts, anyway.

The first that that came through was a curious mix of impatience and serenity from Gis’s direction. Robin focused on the odd sensation. There were two minds there, but slightly overlapping. Gis and his brain-serpent, Ghen, if Robin had to guess. So they were somewhat, though not entirely, linked mentally. Weird.

Was that how he and Rerebos would read to [Lesser Mindreading]? Something to investigate in the future, perhaps.

Robin focused on the scoutmaster and grimaced. The man was a blank spot. His mind was too well guarded—or Robin had been unlucky—and there was nothing for the bard to pick up there.

Though even without magic Robin could see the tension in the scoutmaster’s shoulders, and the dagger-glances he kept tossing toward Gis. The priest and his retinue ignored all of it.

Retinue…or fellow party members? Robin picked up a stray though that made him think it was the latter. The priest was here with a full adventuring party! What were they after? Not him, surely? He can’t have caused that much trouble or enraged the priest to that degree, or he’d have had trouble in Noviel, surely.

There were other hobgoblin leaders present as well, but Robin didn’t have time for more than a cursory inspection before a new figure swept into the room, the flap of the tent falling closed in his wake.

‘General Gar-Soom,’ Gis said silkily, rising to his feet, ‘thank you for joining us.’

‘Dispense with the pleasantries,’ the commander almost spat, before continuing in a more respectful tone, ‘what news does the servant of Mighty Urkhan bring?’

‘So far none of the passages we have tried have led us to the deeps we seek,’ Gis said, clearly irritated by that fact. ‘Much has changed since one of my order was last present here.’

‘Yes,’ the scoutmaster said, ‘not all have been so dedicated in their service to Lord Urkhan as our people.’

Gis flushed with fury, but said nothing. The General smiled broadly and shot an approving glance at the scoutmaster. Interesting dynamics.

‘Be that as it may,’ Gis continued, ‘I have received some counsel that may serve both our aims—and the will of Lord Urkhan.’

The hobgoblins stiffened.

Robin fished for Gis’s surface throughts. They wanted to get deeper into the city, and avoid the older dungeon that was already here, that much was clear. But what were they looking for? What was Urkhan’s will?

He couldn’t find it. If the thought was there it was swiftly drowned out by a flood of the irritation Gis was feeling. The priest really didn’t like that these hobgoblins weren’t under his command. Or was it that he wasn’t properly under theirs?

Who was in control here anyway? Urkhan usually had clear lines of command, but this looked like a weird sort of parallel power structure. It was certainly different than the last environment he’d seen the priest in.

‘I understand you have lost several of your patrols.’ Gis tsked. ‘Most unfortunate.’

‘We are narrowing down the area and will uncover the cause soon enough,’ the scoutmaster said tightly.

‘Yes. That’s precisely why I am here. That area. Signs point to it possibly containing a way down that would be useful for my purposes—for Lord Urkhan’s purposes.’ Gis turned and did something on the table that Robin couldn’t see.

He risked glancing through Rerebos’s senses. The little dragon was hidden high up in the tent and had an almost bird’s eye view. Gis was pointing to a map of the city. Pointing to the area near where Ruprecht had rooted himself!

‘I suspect there is more, however,’ Gis continued. ‘An annoyance, a gadfly buzzing in Lord Urkhan’s ear, has made his way to the city. An illusionist.’ Gis’s mouth wrinkled with distaste as to the word.

‘You think this trickster is responsible for our missing patrols? A snivelling coward like that, defeat our warriors?’ the scoutmaster sneered.

‘Perhaps,’ Gis said, ‘or perhaps it is as your scouts are saying, a beast sent up from the dungeon below to harry and distract you. It hardly matters from a practical standpoint. The solution is the same in either case.’ Gis rapped his finger on the map. ‘You are moving your camp, as your orders from Lord Urkhan command. But you will—that is, I [Suggest] you move your people to this area. Occupy it entirely. There is no beast, no trickster, that can handle a force of this size alone. Even with a few allies, if such have been brought or found or made. It is clear this is the place. This is where most o your patrols have vanished, is it not?’

Robin didn’t miss the subtle magical force that issued out with Gis’s ‘suggestion.’ The priest had used some kind of spell! Probably on the commander, judging by the way the hobgoblin was nodding.

The scoutmaster opened his mouth to say something but shut it with a shocked click when General Gar-Soom agreed with the priest.

‘As you say,’ the brawny hobgoblin said, ‘we shall relocate there.’

The scoutmaster looked like he wanted to protest, but faced with his commanding officer and a powerful priest of his god in agreement, he clearly thought better of the act.

The conversation slipped into logistics at that point and Robin let his mind wander a bit. His heart hammered in his chest. This was huge! There was no way they could handle this many hobgoblins in force!

He had to tell his party immediately! They needed to prepare, to plan, maybe to flee—wait, could they flee? Ruprecht had rooted himself to the spot and wouldn’t have the energy to move and breach another door. Whatever! They would figure it out!

Robin just needed to make it out of the camp alive, first.