Against the Giants

1

Old Margit was nowhere around. Lhors searched for the marefor nearly an hour before giving up. If the giants had not taken her, then she had fled too far away for him to find, so he returned to the husk of a village to fetch Gran and the girls.

Before the sun was much above the horizon, Lhors, Gran, and the two children were on their way to High Haven. The first hour or so, they did not trust the road, fearing another attack by hiding giants. Instead, they stumbled their way through trees, brush, and the occasional creek. Their progress was excruciatingly slow, and after a while, Lhors urged them onto the road so that they could find refuge all the quicker.

They reached the tiny herding village at midday. Gran and the girls remained there while the villages remaining able-bodied men readied their defenses and prepared to go back to Upper Haven to bury the dead. Lhors went on, carrying a flask of water, a few ripe apples, a bit of bread, and a clay jug of herbed oil to pour over it. Mostly, he ate and drank as he walked. Now and again, he ran when the road was smooth enough, though nightfall slowed him to a walk again.

He reached a small garrison outpost in the hills just short of daybreak the next day. Fortunately, his father had friends among the small company of scouts who patrolled the surrounding hill country. Lhors had no trouble passing on word of the destruction in the foothills. He had rather hoped to be sent back to High Haven, but the captain, a tall, bearded man named Edro, had other ideas.

“You’re young and trained by your pa, but no true soldier,lad. And you have cause to petition for a company to come and clean out these giants, if they’re still about. I’ll take some of my men and head to Upper Havenmyself to make sure the folk are safe and all. You better travel on up to Cryllor and let Mebree know what’s happened out here. So happens, your pa servedMebree before he retired. You stand a better chance of getting the lord’s earwhen someone like me might not.” He also ordered a horse, an old gelding with arough gait and a hard mouth, for the youth. “I’ll tell you truth, lad. No onehere wants to ride old Bruiser. But once he’s far enough away from his stable,he’ll cover the ground for you, faster’n you could do yourself.”

There wasn’t much Lhors could do but agree to the addedjourney and take the horse-a raw-looking old white brute with long, brownishteeth and a pink nose that had been badly chewed on at some point. Bruiser was no better than Edro had promised, but the bone-jarring trot ate up distance.

Late on the third day out of High Haven, he rode up to Cryllor’s double gate and gratefully handed the gelding’s reins over to theguard.

Cryllor was an outpost, a fort that still resembled one, though these days it was the size of a small city. It was quite the biggest place Lhors had ever seen. Despite the grief that swaddled his mind and emotions and weighed on him like a stone, he couldn’t help but pay heed to sights thatranged from the exotic to amazing.

The city was ancient and many-walled. As it had grown from a log-walled garrison to a minor fortress and finally to a city, it had expanded well beyond the original fortifications. Still, the lords of Cryllor had prudently maintained that innermost wall and made certain that new outer walls were built as needed. Some of the newer barriers had been razed as the city grew. The stone from the previous outer bastions was then used in the new ones or broken down to be remade into buildings or to pave new streets.

The oldest three sets of walls remained in place. The innermost still enclosed Lord Mebree’s manor and served as a final defenseagainst any enemy strong enough to win through the main battlements and the city itself. The other two rings were each four man-lengths across-but hollow. Theystill served as barricade, barracks, stables, butteries, and weaponries for the lords armsmen.

Since King Kimbertos had come to power, there had been no attacks anywhere around Cryllor. Lord Mebree’s city, once a strong fortress anda prosperous market, was nearly as infamous for its many slums and the well-entrenched thieves’ guild. Cutpurses and assassins were everywhere, as werethe poor. The markets gave over vast sections where the needy could find stale bread, overripe fruit, soft tubers, and sacks of grain and flour beginning to mildew. Sour-smelling food stands alternated with tattered blankets piled next to used clothing, discarded boots, ill-tanned hides, or bits of fabric and leather too small to serve those who could pay for better. One or two stalls sold partially used charms and spells, while fortune-tellers with greasy packets of cards or poorly blown gazing-balls tried to sell their skills.

The wealthy and noble kept summer quarters high in the hills, well away from the heat and stench of the city. In winter, they lived in comfort behind locked gates, sending armed guards to accompany their servants on errands beyond the household walls.

But to a boy who’d only once a year gone to New Market withhis father, Cryllor was shining and glorious. I should have come here with Father, like he wanted, not like this, Lhors thought, but there had never been enough free time. The village had depended too heavily on Lharis for his hunting skills.

Now Lhors gazed listlessly from paved streets and stone fountains to the carved doors on ancient dwellings and the gargoyles perched on the corners of flat roofs. The city was more impressive than he could have imagined from his father’s tales-yet it mattered no more than the incrediblevariety of people crowding those streets. He stared briefly at two reed-slender elves, then at a girl in bright-colored skirts and scarves swaying on a small, raised platform. At her feet two boys sat cross-legged, fiddling with their reed pipes while a third paced back and forth, adjusting the skin on his drum. None of this held Lhors’ attention for long. None of it was important.

He gazed up at one of the inner lengths of wall-all that wasleft of what might have been an outer wall a long time before when the city had been much smaller. Now there was barely room for two guards to pace a few steps and keep watch over the people below.

“My father might have stood there once,” Lhors said tohimself. His throat closed. He drew breath through his nostrils then forced his attention elsewhere.

Some distance away, a man clad in mail and plate armor that shone like silver moved through the crowd. He was followed closely by a boy and a horse. The horse was a huge creature, blue-black with a well-brushed mane and tail that hung nearly to the paving. The steeds head rested on the knights plate-clad shoulder as if he were an enormous pet.

That’s a paladin! Lhors thought in amazement. To think! Hisfather had told him wonderful tales about paladins, and this past winter he’dopenly spoken of his hopes that Lhors might become equerry to such a man. I might have liked that, Lhors mused, if only because Father would have been proud, but the village could never have spared me. Even Lhors’ huntingskills-nowhere near as good as his father’s-were needed.

Lhors glanced after the paladin and the boy with renewed interest. Odd companions. The mail-clad man was an impressive figure, the boy a gawky creature of perhaps ten years with spiky brown hair and ragged clothing. Curious, Lhors thought. There must be some tale there, though he hadn’t the witto work one out.

Some distance on, a gray-bearded man juggled three lit torches. Lhors slowed but moved on almost at once. He had seen a boy moving among the awed crowd, using a slender-bladed knife to relieve people of their coin bags. Cutpurse. So that is where the word comes from, Lhors realized. He made certain of his own coins and kept going.

He paused now and again to repeat the gate guard’sinstructions to himself. Straight past the Shrine of Heironeous, which he would know by the huge stone hand clutching a lightning bolt. He tried not to think about the combination of huge hands and lightning. Who or what was a Heironeous? It must be a god to have a shrine, but who prayed to a god who called upon lightning?

Upper Haven had prayed to all the gods in general-one neverknew which might be offended by being left out. Lhors knew little of such things himself. His father now and again invoked the name of Trithereon, though when things went wrong, Lharis bespoke one he named as Dread Hextor. “One who was awarrior and is now poor is doubly in the care of Hextor,” was all his fatherwould say.

“Straight past the shrine,” he repeated to himself, “thenturn south beyond the armorer’s and south again at the wall. Follow the wallaround to the gate.”

All at once, he could see the shrine-a small stone buildingwith a massive lightning bolt and fist of shining black stone. Lhors felt suddenly very peasantlike and out of place. He hurried on, passing through a sprawl of stone buildings, small huts, and a few open-sided tents. This must be the armory, he decided, though other goods were sold as well-furs, wroughtmetal jewelry, and a variety of armor. The noise was incredible here. A massive brute of a smith on his left was beating red-hot metal, and just beyond him, two younger men were battering horseshoes and dipping the finished products into a vat of water.

He caught the familiar reek of a tanners-rotting hidessoaking in salt brine-and stopped short. Bregya. His throat tightened.He’d helped her this past year with the scraping after she’d become too ill andweak to do the heavy work. Upper Havens master tanner had become something of a substitute mother to Lhors, instructing him in proper manners, helping him to understand girls, and knowing when he needed to talk about things that he couldn’t tell his father. Lhors swallowed hard and moved on quickly.

Do not think about Bregya! To come this far, only to weep in the city streets or worse, before the guards! His father’s shade would behorrified, and he himself would die of shame.

Lhors had rehearsed the tale often on the journey here. A boy of his class would be given little time for an audience with a lord, however important his message. The more he ran the words through his mind, the less the words themselves would hurt. You must tell what happened as quickly and clearly as you can, and if the lord permits, you must ask his help.

He ran through the words once again as he turned the corner. “They must be stopped. They destroyed our village and now are more confident. Ifthey burn every village in the hills, then they will believe nothing can stop them. Then they will turn on the plain, perhaps even the king’s city. Better toend their terror with Upper Haven.” He stumbled over a badly angled cobble andglanced around furtively. No one was watching him, fortunately. “Upper Haven wassmall, but honest,” he continued to himself. “We paid the king’s tax every year,and we provided goods for the baron’s hunting lodge. Perhaps the coin is smallcompared to that of a town like New Market, but join our tax to that of the other villages…” And there I pause, Lhors told himself. Let Lord Mebree seethe answer himself, as my father would say.

He bore south at the wall, fingers trailing over its greened stones. The way was narrower here and the wall very tall and sturdy looking. On his right was a long row of joined buildings that might be houses, but they had few windows or doors, and there was no sign of people anywhere.

As the wall curved away to the left, he came upon a small baker’s shop where the smell of fragrant bread filled the air. His stomachrumbled, and he fingered the twist of fabric that held a silver and three copper pieces in his right pocket. He’d left the hill garrison with three silver piecesthe captain had pressed upon him-more money than he’d had for himself in all hislife. It appalled him how quickly it had gone, frugal as he’d been and as littleas he’d eaten. And there was still the return journey. But it would be foolishto come so far and faint from hunger at the king’s feet. He eyed the display,finally choosing a plain roll for a single copper.

The baker’s wife eyed him appraisingly as she took the coin,then split the roll and spread a generous dollop of runny cheese on it for him. “You’re too thin, lad,” she told him severely and waved him away when he triedto pay for the extra. “Most young ’uns as lean as you are would try to stealtheir bread. I appreciate honesty in a boy.”

He thanked her as graciously as he knew how, suddenly grateful for Bregya’s lessons. Odd, though, he thought as he walked away withhis mouth full of soft bread and spicy cheese. It would never have occurred to him to steal food.

The tough little loaf would have been almost enough by itself. With the addition of the cheese, his stomach was properly full, and he felt alert for the first time in days.

He drank from a fountain where water poured from the mouths of oddly shaped stone fish. There were more guards here and the long row of houses gave way to a series of pens and stables. Two horsemen, helmets eased back off their faces, rode past him at a slow amble, heading in the direction he was going. Some paces on, they dismounted, handed their reins to a barefoot boy who led the horses into a fenced enclosure close by and began unsaddling them. The men vanished, and moments later, Lhors could see the broad opening that breached the innermost wall and beyond that, the high wall.

He hesitated at the intricately wrought metal gates that gave entry to the lord’s courtyard. There were two armored and armed men flanking theopening. They looked at him sternly. To his surprise, once he’d stammered outhis name and village, they’d conferred by hand signal, then simply passed himthrough.

Once inside, he slowed to look around, but there wasn’t muchto see. The grounds were raked dirt and gravel or sand-clean, plain, andutilitarian. A few plain benches of hardwood or stone were scattered here and there, but there was no other ornamentation.

The keep was smaller and much plainer than he’d haveexpected, but then this was not a king’s palace. Still, it rose high above hishead-four sets of windows, one above the other with a guard-walk above that. Thewalls went straight up, the stone dressed so smooth there were no visible handholds anywhere. Two mail-clad men paced back and forth on the roof above the parapet. The lower windows appeared to be set at random, but their sills were deep and the openings so narrow that he couldn’t have squeezed through theentry. Structures such as this were for siege fighting, his father had told him. Archers could shoot from reasonable safety, and a small force could hold off an entire army.

But there had been no such siege warfare in Cryllor in long years and with the gods’ blessing, there would not be again. Lhors smiled as hiseye caught the large blue banner snapping in a suddenly brisk breeze. Lharis had worn that same patch of blue on the breast of his jerkin. He had been very proud of that bit of blue.

“I won’t shame it or you, Father,” Lhors whispered. “I swearit.”

He could see a walkway along the wall he’d just come through,with enclosed towers on the corners where guards could shelter from harsh weather.

The grounds were busy. Someone was hauling a cart away from the near stable. A boy steadied a nervous ass tethered to a wagon that was piled high with dull green hay while two men in grubby leathers forked the feed into tubs for other boys to carry inside.

Half a dozen men paced between the gate and keep. Three were in full armor, but the rest appeared to be servants, clad alike in dark blue trousers and shirts.

Four men lounged on a bench, and just beyond them, two servants were working on a saddle. At their backs, a boy in roughspun clothes sat cross-legged near a pile of stirrups. He was busily polishing one to a gleaming bronze and audibly groaned when a middle-aged fellow wearing only loose, greasy leather pants dropped another load of stirrups atop the pile. The older man laughed raucously, then pulled a polishing cloth from his pocket and settled down to help.

Other soldiers hovered at the buttery, drinking from leather cups. Lhors eyed them sidelong. Many of them were older, hard looking, and not all wore the blue patch. I wonder if any of them knew my father, Lhors thought wistfully. But he felt suddenly shy. He wouldn’t know what to say to such men,and likely they’d ignore him.

There were two guards at the broad step leading to the main door-a massive, bronze reinforced slab of wood that stood open. Lhors swallowedpast a very dry throat and walked up to them. The guards drew two swords each and stepped to block his way.

“Name, affiliation, and business,” one of them snapped.

“Affiliation-that means what village you’re from,” the secondadded with an unpleasant grin.

“Be polite, Efoyan,” the first chided, but he was grinning,too.

Efoyan simpered. Lhors blinked. He hadn’t expected their kindin the lord’s employ-young men who were full of themselves and what little powertheir duties gave them. Well, the trick was to keep his irritation in check. If they couldn’t get him angry, they’d give over.

“I am Lhors, son of Lharis,” he said, “of the village UpperHaven to the north. I bring the Lord Mebree word of danger.”

“‘Son of Lharis’, indeed!” Efoyan smirked. “Imagine, Doneghal!Here’s a peasant who believes he can name his sire!”

Lhors decided to let the insult pass. He would never receive an audience with the lord by quarreling with guards. He waited. Doneghal finally waved him to continue. “Some nights ago,” Lhors said, proud that his voice didnot tremble at the memory, “Upper Haven fought giants-”

Both men broke into spluttering laughter, again silencing him. “Giants?” Doneghal jeered. “There are no giants in Keoland!”

“What? Did you attack the brutes with torches and scythes, ormerely feed them bad village stew and ale?” Efoyan snickered.

Lhors set his jaw and grimly plunged on. “We did fight. Myfather was once a guard here in this very city, and he trained us boys.”

“Oh, it gets better. His father a Cryllor guard, yet! Andhe’s trained himself!” Both men laughed harshly, then Efoyan drew himselfupright. “Go away, boy. It’s a clever tale but we’ve heard many better.”

“Giants indeed,” Doneghal snorted, narrowed eyes fixed onLhors, who suddenly realized what a picture he must present after three days of hunting in the hills followed by Upper Haven’s final, bloody night, and thendays of journey on short rations with no time or place to properly bathe.

“You, boy,” Efoyan said, “I know what you are. You’re agrubby little market thief trying to get in to steal something or catch a glimpse of the king and win a bet with your fellow grubby thieves, aren’t you?Well, it won’t work! Not while we’re on guard!”

Lhors stared at him. “Steal?” he managed. The guards seemedto find this wildly funny.

Efoyan swallowed laughter. “Look, peasant. If there really were giants about, we’d know it, see? The Lord Mebree’s steward would’vesent orders for us to pass anyone who could tell him about giants.”

“Yes, he would,” Doneghal added. “Because, if anyone was tobe told, it would be us, d’ye see? Because we two are the ones who’d have toknow it was all right for you to be inside, wouldn’t we?”

“But we haven’t been told one gods’ blessed word aboutgiants. So you see what that means, don’t you? Means you’re lying to us, doesn’tit?”

“Lying!” Doneghal finished triumphantly. “So! Just you beoff, right now! You aren’t getting into the keep, not today or any day soon! Notwith a stupid tale like that!”

“Your pardon, sirs,” Lhors broke in sharply, “but Upper Haven is in thefoothills well to the north of here-many days’ ride. Until our village wasattacked, no one around there had seen giants, so I must warn the lord or get a message to him-”

“You grow boring,” Efoyan said flatly. He set his spearagainst the wall and gave Lhors a shove. Lhors fought for balance, managing to right himself as the guards stalked toward him.

“Boring,” Doneghal echoed and tossed his spear aside so hecould grab Lhors’ shirt. Efoyan shoved him aside.

“Let me, friend,” he said flatly and slammed one open handagainst Lhors’ chest, driving him back into the courtyard. He drew a long,braided leather whip from his belt. “I know how to teach a stupid peasant not towaste my time.” He snapped his wrist. Lhors jumped convulsively as the leatherthong cracked just short of his ear.

Efoyan struck again. Lhors just managed to duck as it cracked over his head. Behind him, a deep man’s voice snarled, “Why don’t you pick onsomeone closer to your own size, Efoyan?” Lhors scuttled back as a dark, solidlybuilt man caught hold of the tip of the lash and yanked. The guard yelped as the whip was torn from his grasp. The dark man slid the lash through his fingers, gripped the handle and slammed it into the guard’s brow. Efoyan sagged, wentflat, and stayed there. Doneghal leaped across his companion, eyes narrowed as he went into fighting stance, but the newcomer simply grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him halfway around and kicked him, hard. Doneghal staggered and slammed into the palace wall, head first. He slid down, dazed or unconscious.

Lhors gazed blankly up at the bronze-skinned man who turned away from the fallen pair to give the youth a hand up and a smile. “Sorry aboutyour reception, lad.”

Before Lhors could fathom a suitable reply, the man walked over and began to nudge the two guards, who were beginning to moan and look around, obviously still dazed.

“Up!” the man shouted. “Up, the both of you! Up I say! Now!”

The two guards reluctantly complied. Outrage and embarrassment played over their faces, though both of them had obviously lost all will to fight.

“Do you know who I am?” the man demanded. They both noddeddumbly. “Very well. You”-he jabbed at Efoyan with his finger-“will report toSergeant Storrs and tell him what has taken place here. You will leave nothing out, and I will know if you do. By the time your watch has ended, I’m sure the sergeant and I will have come up with a suitable punishment for theboth of you.”

Glowering, Efoyan turned to go.

“Stop! I have not dismissed you yet.” The guard halted, andthe man continued. “Both of you will apologize to this young man… and makeit good, or you’ll both be mucking stables till next season’s snow melts.”

Both guards stammered an apology. Though their words dripped sincerity, they looked at Lhors with pure hatred. When they had finished, the man let the silence hang until both guards began to eye one another nervously, obviously wondering if their apology had been accepted.

“Very well,” the man said. “Efoyan, dismissed. Do as I haveordered you. Doneghal, resume your post.”

The two of them complied, and the man turned his attention to Lhors. “So, you’re Lharis’ son, are you?”

“You… you knew my father?”

“I met him once or twice,” the man replied. “But come. Youhave urgent news. Best we get you inside so Lord Mebree can hear it. I’m Vlandarby the way, captain of one of the hill companies.”

Lhors stared. He could feel his face heating. “Captain? I’msorry to be so much-”

The older man merely laughed, wrapped an arm around Lhors’shoulders, and drew him through the palace doors into a broad, high ceilinged hallway. “Trouble? You’re no trouble, lad. And I’m merely a captain, not thelord’s commander. My job is to ride the hills between here and the Yeomanry,making sure the villages are safe from bandits and the like. It’s only fitting Ishould escort you to the lord’s council chambers. He should be meeting with hiscouncil now, but if not, there’ll be men to whom you can give a full report.I’ll need to hear what you have to say in any event, if we’ve more to fight outthere than bandits and river pirates.”

As they walked through the passageways, Vlandar kept a hand on his arm, which Lhors suspected kept anyone from asking what business a grubby peasant had in such vast halls. And they were vast. Corridors branched all along the main hall. Now and again, he could see staircases spiraling up to upper levels of the keep. There were people, most in servants’ garb, carrying trays orbundles of clothing, stocks of linens, and other things. The place was surprisingly plain. No statues or fine hangings graced the walls, and the floors were plain polished stone. Here and there, black wrought lamps hung from chains. What doors he could see were closed, and the view beyond the windows was all of dirt courtyards.

A few guards glanced at Vlandar but made no attempt to stop him. The warrior must be someone of importance, despite his modest remarks, Lhors thought. Father told me about men like that. The best fighters don’t needto brag.

A boy came running up behind them, swerved around Lhors and his companion, then pelted down the hallway, a small leather pouch slapping against his back. Vlandar turned down yet another hall and stopped before massive double doors. Two more guards stood here, but these were older, grim-faced men who stood at attention with drawn blades before them.

Vlandar gripped Lhors’ shoulder and murmured, “They know me,and I’ll vouch for you.” He spoke to the guards, and one of them nodded. Theyboth stepped back and held the doors open.

The room itself was much smaller than Lhors would have imagined from the size of the doors. The ceiling was barely higher than the lintel, and a long table surrounded by a dozen high-backed chairs took up most of the chamber. Thick curtains in a muted green covered one wall. The opposite wall was almost completely taken up by an immense fireplace. High, small windows along the back wall let in light, but the room was still dim, warm, and almost stuffy.

Vlandar tugged at Lhors’ hair and leaned close to murmuragainst his ear, “This is the lord’s private audience chamber. Let me go first.When I beckon, you come forward, kneel, and bend your head. Do not rise or look up until the lord or I tell you to do so. Can you remember that?”

Lhors nodded again.

“You will speak when he tells you and answer his questions asbriefly as you can. Good manners say you must address him as ‘my lord’ each timeyou speak.” He smiled as Lhors swallowed hard. “Buck up, lad. It’s not so awfulas that. He’s a busy man but not an unfair one. You’ll do.” He clapped the youthon the shoulder and went forward, easing to one knee as he came around the near end of the table.

Vlandar spoke to the men briefly, but Lhors was so caught up in studying those seated around the table that he didn’t hear a word. Now thathis eyes were adjusting, he could make out a wizened little being of uncertain sex, his or her robe and close-fitting cap nearly the same shade as the dark wood of the chair. Opposite, a dark-skinned man in black suddenly leaned forward, drew an open scroll across the table and began rolling it up.

Vlandar stood and beckoned to Lhors. The youth drew a deep breath and walked over to join him.

It was easy to kneel. He wasn’t certain his legs wouldsupport him, and he was much too shy to look up. The third man-presumably LordMebree-spoke, his voice low and pleasantly resonant. “You are… Lhors, isit? From poor young Baron Hilgenbrand’s holdings, Vlandar says. He tells me youhave a tale for me. Come, lad, let me look at you.”

Vlandar gripped Lhors’ shoulder reassuringly and aided himto his feet. Lhors nodded then managed a shaky, “Yes, my lord. From Upper Havennear the baron’s hunting lodge.” He glanced up. Cryllor’s lord was a small man,his hair a blue-black, wavy mass barely restrained by a narrow band of silver. His near-black eyes were warm though, and he was smiling. His hands moved constantly, fussing with papers or his dagger, moving them about the table.

To Lhors’ surprise, Mebree chuckled quietly. “Go ahead andlook at me, lad. I like to see a man’s eyes when he talks. Tell me about thesegiants.”

Lhors glanced at Vlandar. He and the two other men-councilors, perhaps-were smiling. Probably at my foolishness, he thought. Butthe words were kind, and so were the lord’s eyes. He drew a deep breath andplunged into his story.

It had helped, rehearsing it so often. He was brief and to the point, and after so much repetition, it began to feel more like a tale he’d heard than something he’d seen or people he’d known. When he finished,Lord Mebree gestured, and Vlandar fetched two stools from beside the hearth. Lhors sat with relief. He suddenly felt exhausted and light-headed. He scarcely paid attention as Lord Mebree dismissed the other two and turned to Vlandar.

“Well, my friend,” he said mildly. “This is your warning cometo pass, isn’t it? Feel vindicated, do you?”

“No,” the older man replied. “Simply angry at so many senseless deaths. Ifwe’d gone after the Steading in force when I first heard rumors about thegiants-”

“If,” the lord broke in wearily. His hands seemed to have alife of their own, running up and down the silver chain he wore, folding it into one hand, shaking it loose again. “I am sorry for this young man’s people,Vlandar, but even you couldn’t have foreseen an attack like that. It’s simplynever happened before. And you know the cost of sending an army out. I could never have justified it to King Kimbertos.” He dropped the chain and folded hishands. “However, this is no longer rumor, and with the king here to see howthings are in the Good Hills… Well, it may be time to do something aboutthe Steading after all, though I still cannot be certain the Steading is responsible. It’s unheard of for hill giants to do such a thing. Thus far,they’ve stolen a few cattle or some of their youth get drunk and raid a town.Their chief, Nosnra, isn’t a warrior. He’s a thug-a clever one I’m told, butstill a thug.”

“I agree,” Vlandar said. “But the king will have little moneyor many men to spare if he agrees to an attack-even if the Yeomanry allows oneto cross their lands. The king’s more concerned about the Scarlet Brotherhood,or so I hear. He’ll keep his best fighting men ready to defend against attackfrom across the Azure Sea.”

“I will speak with him when we meet after the feast tonight,but I agree we aren’t likely to get much armed help.” Mebree’s fingers drummedagainst the padded chair arms.

The king? King Kimbertos was actually here in Cryllor?Lhors had never actually seen a king. Before his mind could wander any further, he focused on the conversation at hand.

Vlandar got to his feet and began to pace. “A direct attackis out in any event. Cryllor wouldn’t dare funnel all its armed men into themountains, leaving the city unprotected. And the Steading’s built to withstandany attack. On the other hand, we don’t need an army to discover if the hillclans are responsible for Upper Haven. Now a small but well-picked band of fighters would be able to get inside the Steading, find out what we need to know, and strike a counter-blow from inside the walls.”

“But Vlandar, how do you plan on finding out…?” He letthe thought hang.

“Nosnra isn’t that smart. He’s clever and cunning, but notintelligent. He would need written orders or advisers from whoever is behind the attacks. Maybe we wouldn’t learn why, but we’d know who.” Vlandar resumedpacing. “Remember, my lord, that I’m trained for that kind of fighting. I’mskilled at sneaking in somewhere, learning things, inflicting damage, and getting back out again. With the right sized band-fewer than ten, I think-itcould be done.” He paused. Mebree gestured for him to go on. “We’d need a fewgood fighters, a magician or two. If it turns out the Steading’s alone in this,then maybe we can hurt old Nosnra and his folk so they’ll leave us alone. We’dneed good support, of course. Food, horses or boats to get us into the mountains, maps, the best armor and arms.”

Lord Mebree nodded slowly. “To get the people youwant, you’d have to offer more than arms and supplies, Vlandar. I know what kindof fee your average adventurer wants-in advance, no less!” He grimaced. “Ifyou can find them around Cryllor. We aren’t exactly the king’s city.”

“No, but with the king in Cryllor just now, there will bethose who’ve come with him or in his retinue. Now, you’re right about fees, butthe Steading is said to hold any number of hidden troves and treasuries. Let us keep whatever valuables we find-tax free, of course.”

The lord laughed. “Tax free, the man says! Of course, I mustpresent this to our king! But it could work. Return tomorrow at this hour, Vlandar. I’ll tell you what the king makes of all this. If he agrees, I’ll seeto it that my steward has funds for you to draw upon for whatever you need. And don’t thank me!” he added sharply. “You may have just bought yourself an uglydeath, my friend. If you come through… well, I will find a way to show mygratitude.”

Vlandar stood and inclined his head. His lips twitched. “Butone needs so little: ‘a small corner of the new barracks, a fire of my own,perhaps a new skin of wine.’”

Lord Mebree got to his feet and clapped the warrior on the back. “Quote my grandfer’s words at me, will you? Ha! Off with you, you oldrogue. I will see you tomorrow.”

“My lord.” Vlandar leaned down to whisper against Lhors’ear. “You also bow when you leave.”

Lhors blushed a deep red as he went to his knees. Above him, the lord murmured a question, to which Vlandar replied, “I’ll takecare of him, my lord. Come with me, Lhors.”

The corridors were even busier on their way out. To Lhors’relief, two older men were on guard outside with no sign of the two who had given him such grief.

“Well,” Vlandar stopped just short of the gates and gave hiscompanion a friendly smile, “you look like a boy who could use a good night’ssleep under a roof-and before that, a decent meal.”

Lhors slowed. “Um, I’ve a little coin, sir, but I have along journey home yet.”

Vlandar was already shaking his head. “My treat. I trust yourfather told you to accept a free meal and cot any time they’re offered? Comeon.”

Lhors smiled faintly and went with the warrior, who strode through a maze of narrow streets into a market area. The youth was lost within moments. The inn where they finally stopped was a pleasant little place behind a low hedge and a well-swept courtyard. The food itself smelled plain and familiar.

Lhors’ nose twitched, and his mouth began to water asVlandar steered him to a bench in the corner where they could see the street. In the paddock across the street, two goats and a swaybacked horse jostled for place at a manger of hay and a pile of spotty cabbage leaves. He forgot about that as a gaunt young woman in shapeless brown roughspun came bustling over with two wooden bowls. A simple-looking hulk of a man came right behind her carrying a heavy black kettle. He held the steaming pot while she ladled soup to the very tops of the bowls. Lhors sipped the broth gingerly, then sighed happily, picked up the bowl, and drank down the contents.

“Your friend has good taste,” the girl said as she refilledthe bowl. This time she added an extra scoop of vegetables and barley from the bottom.

Vlandar gave her a copper coin for more bread before dipping his crust in the broth. He ate absently as the boy finished what he had, then took down another bowl of broth and two manchets of black bread. Finally, Lhors shoved the bowl aside and sighed. “Thank you, Vlandar. I was hunting with Fatherfor days before-before the giants came. I barely recall my last true meal. Ifthere is any use I can be to you to pay back your kindness, sir…”

“I didn’t feed you simply for that,” Vlandar said, “but yes,I do need to know everything you can tell me about those giants. If I could question you…?” He let that hang.

Lhors nodded sharply. His face was pale. He was about to begin when a shadow crossed the table. The youth edged back nervously as Vlandar leaped his feet, but he relaxed when the warrior began laughing. Vlandar clasped a pale-haired fellow by his chain-mail-clad biceps and shouted, “Malowan! Whendid you get into Cryllor? And what are you doing here, of all places?”

Malowan’s voice was enormous, filling the room. “Vlandar, itreally is you! Thought you’d be out riding around the hills like that last twotimes I came this way! I’m here because the king is-partly, at least.”

Lhors eyed the man curiously. He wasn’t much taller orbroader than Lharis. A chain-mail coif covered all but the fringes of his straw-colored hair, and he wore heavy-looking scale mail girt with a wide belt that held two swords. Lhors’ eyes went wide as they fixed on the silver devicehammered into the mail from the man’s left shoulder to mid-breast. It was alightning bolt and fist, like the one on the shrine of Heironeous.

Vlandar settled on the bench and gestured for the newcomer tojoin them. “Malowan’s a friend of mine-and a paladin. Mal, meet Lhors. Hisfather was once a captain here.”

“A captain!” The paladin smiled and held out a hand. “And nowyou’ve come to join?” But he shook his head. “No, you’re here because somethingamiss. I can see that much.”

Lhors simply stared at him, wide-eyed. Vlandar nodded. “Ofcourse you’d sense it.”

“Any paladin past his first pledge would,” the other man saidmildly.

“Lhors is from the hill country near the Yeomanry border.Giants razed his village, and he’s just about the only survivor.”

“Heironeous have mercy upon them all,” Malowan murmured. Hiseyes moved beyond the table, searching the street briefly. “I’m truly sorry,lad. But, Vlandar, giants attacking a village? That’s unheard of!”

“It was,” the warrior said grimly. “But-have you eaten? Ifnot, sit anyway. I have a proposition for you.”

“Have you?”

Someone out in the street was shouting. The paladin’sattention shifted briefly. He blinked and then settled on the end of the bench. “I’m waiting for someone, as it happens-but I can listen, meantime.”

Vlandar made a concise story of it, but Malowan was already shaking his head before the warrior could finish. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’vealready taken on a matter that’s-well, never mind the specifics, but it’s afull-time occupation. I’ll be glad to pass the word for you, though. Nemis isback in the vicinity-or was, last I heard.”

“Nemis? You mean the mage? I heard he’d renounced the worldand turned hermit.”

Malowan came to his feet as a high-pitched argument broke out somewhere down the way. “Hmm? Oh, he told me he liked his own company less thanthat of a crowd. He’s a good mage, and he speaks Giantish, I think.”

Someone in the street uttered a piercing shriek. The paladin glanced outside, then hurriedly got up, offered a quick, “Uh, excuse me,” andwas out the door.

Vlandar got to his feet and looked out the window. Lhors followed his gaze. He could see the paladin sprinting toward the street, where a swirl of people was trying to move away from the vicinity of the yelling. He could just make out the tips of two blunted pikes pushing their way through the crowd.

“See those pikes?” Vlandar asked Lhors. “Those are marketguards. Malowan may need my help. I’ll return.”

Lhors craned his neck, watching as both men vanished into the crowd. He couldn’t make out a thing, but it was easy to see where theproblem was. People ringed an area ten paces or so across, and all the yelling was coming from there. He could now make out guards in the melee, but not much else.

“If I stay away from the guards, I’ll be all right,” Lhorstold himself as he edged off the bench and out the door. It was a moment’s workto ease through the crowd. While there were plenty of curious types watching, hardly anyone wanted to be too close to the guards-those pikes were used toshove people around, after all.

Lhors slipped around a gray-haired woman in a faded blue kerchief and all at once he could see just fine. Vlandar had a hand on Malowan’s arm and seemed to be trying to pull the paladin away from four market guards in the lord’s blue. Two of the guards were keeping a watchful eye on the crowd.Malowan was arguing-but very politely-with the two other stone-faced guards whoclutched a grubby little street-urchin between them-possibly the cutpurse Lhorshad seen earlier, or another very like. The child looked no older than ten, but its vocabulary was shockingly adult. Lhors didn’t understand half what thelittle creature screeched, but now and again one of the guards winced. The kerchiefed woman began muttering about ill-spawned children and what she’dlike to do to this one in particular.

Vlandar finally seemed to gain control of the situation. He’dpulled another guard from the crowd-this one had a red officer’s stripe on hissleeve-and after a short discussion the guard thrust the child at Malowan. Thepaladin gripped one dirty ear and silently pulled the little one through the crowd, which parted around them. Several older boys snickered as the two passed. The urchin lashed out with a stream of shrill curses and a kick. Malowan looked exasperated. He mumbled something, scooped the child up over his shoulder, and strode back toward the inn.

Vlandar was laughing and shaking his head as he came back across the avenue. “That, my young friend, is Malowan’s ‘other business’. He’strying to reform a market thief. He has a ways to go, I’d say. Let’s go backinside. I could use a pot of ale.”

To Lhors’ surprise, Malowan seemed to be waiting for them,his skinny companion sulking on the bench next to him. “You hadn’t finished,Vlandar,” he said as the soldier gestured for service. “You were about to tellme why this expedition would be a useful part of Agya’s training.”

“To the nine hells with that and you!” Agya snappedshrilly.

“Language, child. We’re discussing your future.”

“You ought not to have come out there,” the child repliedsulkily.

“You would have spent a night in the cells had I not. Iwarned you. The guards know who you are and where you operate.”

“Only ’cause you told ’em, then!”

“I did not, and you know I do not lie. Agya, you’reangry because you were caught, nothing more.”

Silence. The thief glowered at him and said nothing else as the inn-girl came over to set cups on the table.

Vlandar waited until the girl was gone again. “You’reconsidering it, then?”

Malowan nodded. “I’m thinking it’s easier to reform yourselfif old temptations are out of reach.”

“’Ere!” Agya demanded. “Just what d’you think you’replotting? ’Cause, just maybe, I’m not for it!”

Malowan smiled vaguely and set his elbows on the table. Vlandar leaned toward him, and the two began talking in very low tones-and in alanguage that wasn’t Flan-it sounded half snarls and throat clearing to Lhors.Agya muttered something vile-sounding, then fixed angry brown eyes on Lhors. “You tell me, then-if y’know, that is!”

Lhors swallowed. “It’s my village. Giants killed everyone.Vlandar’s going to put together a force to go after the giants.”

“Wait,” Agya demanded. “That’s… it’s… Paladin, you’reflat mad!”

Malowan shrugged, but Agya wasn’t finished. “None o’ that forme. I’ll chance it rather agin th’ market guard and Dappney’s lads in th’ Sink!”

“You haven’t heard the offer yet,” Vlandar said.

“Giants.” Agya licked her lips. “D’you know what they do toyou? I’ve ’eard tales.”

“I saw,” Lhors broke in harshly. “I could tell you what’strue, but I won’t.”

“Well, then!” the urchin tugged at Malowans belt. “Want me togrow up honest-like? Not much chance of it, if we go where I’ll get killed andet, is there?”

“But someone with your talents-” Vlandar began.

“Which he says I gotta give up!”

“But there are ways for a thief to earn honor as a thief,”Vlandar countered. Malowan looked none too happy about that reasoning.

“If the thief lives long enough,” Agya spat back.

“Long enough to return home with wealth untold, treasurebeyond counting…?” Vlandar paused. Agya was speechless. “Any treasure youfind-if you help us-is yours… to share with your comrades, of course.But there won’t be more than ten of us.”

Vlandar waited. Malowan touched his friend’s arm and shookhis head. Agya was lost in rapt contemplation.

“Treasure,” the little thief breathed happily. “Agiants’ trove! Gems and gold, coins and jewels and amulets… a girl could setherself up proper with a store of that!”

Malowan and Vlandar exchanged amused glances. Lhors’ jawdropped and he stared. “A girl could… you’re a girl?”

Agya grinned at Malowan. “Fooled one, anyway,” she told thepaladin, who cast up his eyes. “Tell me ’bout this treasure.”