The small Greenskin scowled indignantly at the Goblin commander. Notbob Boogerflick was not a Snotling! He might be small, but he was a Goblin just like every other Greenskin in the group, not counting the nine who actually were Snotlings. Or the Orcs. But you really couldn't confuse any Goblin with an Orc.
Notbob sighed. He got no respect, not even from the Snotlings he was in charge of. As he was hardly any larger than them, they tended to believe, in their own feeble minds, that he was one of them, no matter how better dressed, better equipped, or better looking he might be. He shook his head, almost in resignation of his fate of being the smartest yet the most pushed around, and hurried to where the Goblin boss was waiting.
"Yeah? Whaddaya want?"
"What's wit yer pets back dere? Dey's holdin' us up!"
"Dey's idiots, dat's what's wit 'em. Why we efun brung 'em wit us, I dunno."
The commander grinned, showing nearly all of his gleaming-white, needle-sharp teeth. "Ta give ya sumptin ta do, Boogerbrain."
"Boogerflick" Notbob grumbled as the boss turned his back and marched forward.
"Whadda matta, lil bloke?" Skullbasha asked, seeing the Goblin's obvious distress.
Notbob looked up--way up--at the enormous Orc who was the only one in this small deployment Notbob could really consider a friend. Fate, it seemed, liked to play goofy jokes. There was tiny Notbob, no bigger than a Snotling, and in all honesty the smartest guy in the bunch, confiding his woes in a hulking Orc who wielded a sword that was half again as big as the Goblin and whose brain packed about as much punch as Notbob's little finger. But ya can't always pick ya mates, Notbob thought with a sigh, and proceeded to complain to Skullbasha.
The Orc listened courteously to the Goblin's rant, but couldn't make head or tail of most of it. He was after all, an Orc, and his main concern in life was battle. That was the way of things for Orcs--a few had a head for the WAAAGH, the magic energy produced by all Greenskins but that could only be used by that rare one whose mind was powerful enough to channel it--and most Orcs spent their lives killing other things. It was beyond him to ponder the social injustices committed against his smaller and weaker cousins.
But Notbob was pretty smart, and kind of endearing in a baby-Orc kind of way, and so Skullbasha liked him.
"Where we goin', anyways?" Notbob was grumbling now. "Does anyone know dat, efun?" To him, the marshy terrain they were crossing looked suspiciously like that of the zombie-swamps he had heard rumors about. He was sure this was not where they were supposed to be going.
"You thought what?" Thanquol screeched at a miserable, stuffy-nosed rat slave as he examined the fresh, blistering brand that clearly displayed the Grey Seer's symbol just beneath Kyasha's shoulder. "Who ever told you that you were supposed to think? Slaves don't think, they do. When thinking needs to be done, I do it." He turned his angry red eyes on the human girl.
She refused to be shaken by his smoldering glare. Calmly she said, "The slave told me it was your command that all brought into your service are branded."
Thanquol shook a clenched paw at the slave. "Not spies!" he screamed. "How suspicious is that? Spies are supposed to be inconspicuous, you idiot!"
But as the Skaven who become the slaves of the mighty are of the weaker rats, they are also of the less intelligent, and so the slave just cowered, shuffling his feet nervously and looking stupidly at the Grey Seer.
Thanquol's whiskers quivered and his tail thrashed as his whole body trembled with anger, and he finally grabbed a clanrat that happened to be nearby, thrust the slave into his custody, and ordered the slave be taken to the rats of Clan Moulder. "Tell them to experiment on him, feed him to their creatures, whatever they wish," he hissed. "Just get him out of my sight."
The clanrat quickly obeyed, dragging the feebly struggling slave behind him. No one disobeyed a Grey Seer, no one questioned his orders. Especially when the Grey Seer was Thanquol.
And yet there the human girl remained watching the wizard levelly. She was clearly not afraid. No matter, Thanquol thought as his tail lashed about. She is not one of our kind, she does not understand my place in this society. She has yet to see my power.
He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a pinch of a grainy black powder. Warpstone powder. He arranged it carefully in his paw before lowering his nose and snuffing the stuff in quickly.
"Experiment?" the girl asked finally.
"What-what?"
"You said the Moulder rats could experiment on the slave. What did you mean?"
"Clan Moulder," Thanquol said calmly, the drug already taking its effect. "They do experiments on slaves and whatever creatures they can catch. They change the creatures using precious-precious Warpstone."
"I have heard of Warpstone, but I don't know what it is."
Thanquol's gaze narrowed and he looked at the girl out of the corners of his eyes. He was suspicious, but chose to answer her anyway. Information would do her little good, as she could neither escape to share the information or use Warpstone herself. "Warpstone is pure dark magic in a physical form," he said in the manner a teacher might take to instruct a student. "Most creatures would die or become mutate in some unpredictable way if they came into contact with it. But we Skaven can use it. Clan Moulder uses it to create their creatures, Clan Skryre uses it to make weapons."
"And you? Surely if it is magical, you have some use for it."
"I consume it. You are right, it is of great importance to the Warlocks and Seers among my kind. It enhances our powers. You have seen Fikit's false paw? It is made of Warpstone, and it gives him special abilities. I made it for him myself."
"Why?" Kyasha asked.
"What-what?"
"I know you didn't make that paw out of kindness, and I know that if Warpstone is so precious, there would be a good reason why you would use it on one of your servants."
Thanquol looked Kyasha in the eyes. "Smart-smart for a human. Perhaps you are too smart for your own good."
"I only know what is plain to see," she said without a flinch.
Thanquol scratched his chin, studying the girl. His tail flicked. "I have my reasons why I chose to bestow Fikit with a Warpstone paw. Suffice it to say we are using each other's talents for mutual benefit."
Her questions were making him suspicious. He answered to no one, save the Council of Thirteen. He drew closer to the girl and placed his paws on her shoulders. Among a race like Skaven where the members were always crawling over each other, such a thing would have been nothing. But Thanquol knew about humans. They didn't like to touch other creatures without a good reason. Perhaps it was the lack of fur that made their skin more sensitive; Thanquol didn't know the reason and he didn't care. All that mattered was that the girl finally flinched. Finally, she showed some concern that he might hurt her in some way. Good-good. Fear, Thanquol had found, was one of the best ways to ensure his minions didn't step out of line.
"You do realize, don't you, that you are now my slave, and that I tell you such things only because it is to my benefit that you understand these things? You are new and do not yet understand our ways, and because you might be useful to me I am willing to overlook the impudence you have shown. But from now on, you are not to question me, my actions or my orders. You are not so valuable to me that you could not easily be cast to the same fate as the slave that branded you. No one questions the Grey Seer. No one. Is that 'plain to see,' as you put it?"
The girl maintained her composure, but only with a visible struggle. "Very plain, sir," she said.
It was at that moment that Fikit came scurrying down the tunnel to Thanquol's warren. "There's something you should see," he panted.
"What is it?" Thanquol asked irritably.
Fikit looked suspiciously at the girl. "No time to explain. Quick-quick!"
Thanquol turned back to Kyasha. "You will stay here and touch nothing. You will not, under any circumstances, leave this warren. Do not think to disobey me; outside this warren you are as good as dead. Do you understand?"
Kyasha nodded. "Yes, sir," she replied meekly.
Good-good, Thanquol thought. He didn't trust the girl, but he knew for the sake of her own skin she'd stay put.
And Kyasha had no intention of leaving the Grey Seer's home. She had never been left alone in the home of a magician before.