Steel and Stone

Chapter 7

Tanis awakened before dawn the next morning to find Kitiara on her knees in the dark, retching into the empty chamber pot. He rolled over in bed and watched her wordlessly.

"Either offer some help or stop staring, half-elf," Kitiara said. She sat up on the braided rag rug next to the bed. The movement sent her clutching her temples. "By the gods, I ache all over."

"Too much ale." Tanis's lips curved.

"Don't be a prude. I can drink any man under the table and wake up to fight a hundred hobgoblins the next morning." She moaned suddenly and leaned over the chamber pot again. Her skin was clammy

and ashen.

Tanis took his time swinging his legs out of bed. "You came in rather late." He kept his voice deliberately neutral.

Kitiara, still kneeling with her head down, surveyed him with bloodshot eyes. "I thought you were asleep. Anyway, I had to put Caven Mackid off our trail."

"Oh?"

"Get me a blanket, will you? I'm freezing."

Tanis didn't move. "Perhaps you should have worn something to bed," he said laconically instead.

"And perhaps you should-"

"Mmmm?"

Kitiara didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she crawled over to the bed and, when Tanis shifted aside, hoisted herself back in. "By the chasms of the Abyss, I've never felt like this. Maybe I've caught something." She collapsed with a groan, facedown on the feather mattress.

"And maybe you're getting too old to drink like that."

"That's fine advice from someone who's over ninety." She reached back, still facedown, and pulled the down comforter up over her head. The bedding muffled her voice. "I spent the time telling Caven all sorts of lies to put him off our track. We can sneak out of town and never see him again. He thinks we're staying at the Masked Dragon, the gullible idiot."

"Mmm-hmmm." Tanis padded over to a chair near the door and pulled on his breeches.

Kitiara rolled over with an effort.

Tanis slipped on his fringed leather shirt.

"Which means…?" She tried to sit up but fell back against the pillow with a mild oath.

Tanis groped under the chair for his moccasins. "Which means I think the results of that faro game may not have been left entirely to chance. Which means I think Captain Kitiara Uth Matar, under certain circumstances, is entirely capable of 'acquiring' a man's savings and disappearing."

Kitiara changed the subject. "Where are you going, half-elf?"

"To have the kitchen boy bring you some weak tea and something to eat, and to walk about Haven thinking up ways we can earn ten steel to pay back Caven Mackid."

Shock registered on Kitiara's features. "Pay him back?"

"One thing I've learned in my ninety-odd years," he said smoothly, "is that it's a bad idea to leave debts unpaid. They always come back to haunt you."

"You damned moralist." Kitiara was smiling, however, her arms crossed against her bare chest.

"Besides," he continued, "if we repay Mackid, then we're rid of him for good, and you and I can be on our way to Solace."

Then he was out the door.

Stopping in the kitchen on his way out, Tanis found the scullery boy dozing on the hearth. The lad leaped to his feet when the half-elf entered the room. "Kin I help y', sir?" His sandy blond hair was tousled, his hazel eyes crusty with sleep.

"Have you made tea yet this morning?" The lad nodded and gestured toward a pot steeping atop the mantel. A slice of bread leaned against the pot. "One. For the missus-the innkeeper's wife. Herself is w' child and can't start the day w'out her tea and dry toast. And," he added, as if warming to an old grievance, "it's gotta be winterberry tea with rosehips and peppermint. Herself says some herbalist told her it'll help the unborn babe, but I think it's just 'cause she likes the taste of it and it causes more work for everybody. But to tell the truth, once she drinks it she don't upchuck no more, so maybe…"

Tanis, visions of Wode dancing in his head, interrupted the lad's monologue. "Send some of that up to my room, will you? With more toast."

The boy got busy pouring hot water from a kettle, which was setting on an iron spider placed over the fire, into a second pot, next to the steeping one on the mantel. "Y' have a lady w' you, true? One mug or two?"

"Just one. I'm going out." Tanis handed the boy one of the few coins he had left. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Eh?"

"Make sure the lady knows the tea is especially good for pregnant women, but don't tell her that until she's drunk a good bit."

"Ah! The lady's w' child, then?" The youth looked wise.

"No," Tanis replied.

The boy grinned. "A joke, then. I see."

Tanis smiled down at the lad and nodded. "Just make sure you're standing near the door when you tell her."

"Ah," the lad repeated. "A temper?"

The half-elf laughed.

The lad winked. "I'll be careful."

Wode looked on as Tanis paused in the Seven Centaurs' doorway, filled his lungs with soft morning air, then strode toward the center of town. Wode had been watching the front door of the inn since Caven had trailed Kitiara there after she pretended to enter the Masked Dragon. The mercenary had a pallet behind Maleficent's stall, back at the livery stable. Wode looked about, momentarily uncertain. Should he follow the half-elf? No, Caven had said Kitiara, not Tanis, was the one to watch, and she had not left the Seven Centaurs. The lad settled back on the bench, pulled Caven's cloak up around his shoulders, and waited.

"Great Reorx at the forge!"

Heading down the main street of Haven toward the marketplace, Tanis heard the oath, one of Flint's favorites, before the half-elf actually saw the creature responsible for the racket. The voice was too high, too nasal to be dwarven. That left one possibility. Early-morning vendors and traders were giving a wide berth to an abandoned stable from which lantern light spilled. Tanis waited. Soon a small explosion cracked, seeming to surprise no one, and a short, round figure, trailed by rolling gears and a great deal of smoke, tumbled end-over-end through the building's open door. "Hydrodynamics!" cried the figure in midroll.

No one but Tanis moved to help him. Instead, three Haven men ran to put out the small fire that licked a corner of the building. Tanis squatted, which put him on eye level with the figure, and dusted off the gnome. "Are you hurt?" the half-elf asked gently.

The creature, sitting on the sandstone that made up this stretch of Haven road, looked dolefully up at Tanis through violet eyes. Soft white hair, dusted with bits of ash, festooned the gnome's head and chin and upper lip. His skin was rich brown, his nose lumpy-no doubt the result of earlier experiments-and his ears were rounded. He was dressed in typical mismatched gnome fashion-baggy silk pants in purplish pink, teal-colored linen top, brown leather boots, and a gold scarf shot with silver threads. "Are you hurt?" the half-elf repeated.

"Itmusthavebeenthehydroencephalatorbecausel'dalreadygoneoverthedrive-" the gnome replied. "Thechaininhibitorandthegearratiowereexactlywhat-mycomputationssaidtheyshouldbeexceptofcoursethe sunhasn'trisenyetandperhapsthere'saluminaryquotienttherethathasn'tbeeninvestigatedyet… Yes! Aluminaryquotient!"

Then the gnome jumped up and, ignoring the half-elf, dashed back into the building, paying no heed to the humans, now numbering nearly a dozen, who were dashing in with buckets of water. The half-elf followed. "Shouldn't you stay out until the fire's extinguished?" he asked the gnome. The fellow clambered onto a tall stool placed before a contraption that stretched from wall to wall and from the floor two stories up to the rafters.

The gnome glanced back at the opposite corner. Flames no longer flickered, but smoke streamed from blackened boards that occasionally glowed orange and red. "Perhaps," the gnome said, "afireinhibitorymechanismwhichIcanseewouldhavetohave-"

Tanis interrupted. "Speak more slowly."

The gnome looked up from the computations he was already scrawling on a slip of parchment. "Eh?"

"Slowly," the half-elf repeated.

Light dawned in the gnome's face. With a visible effort, he interjected a half-breath between every word. "I'm… sorry… I… forget… I'm… not… among… my fellows." He inhaled deeply. Obviously it took more energy for him to speak slowly than to blurt out the unending sentences that marked the speech of the gnomes. Gnomes, who could talk and listen at the same time, believed continuous speech by all conversants was more efficient than the balky give-and-take chatting of the other races.

Tanis introduced himself. "What's your name?" he added, then saw his error too late. "Wait!"

"Speaker-SungearsonofBeamcatcherSungearillustrious-inventoroftheperiluminohighspeedelevatorand-grandsonof…"

The rest of the name-gnomish names, which included genealogical history stretching back dozens of generations, could go on for hours-was muffled by Tanis's hand, clapped over the gnome's mouth. The piping tones trailed off, and the creature glared up at Tanis. Behind them, the last bucket of water extinguished the last of the blaze with a splash and a hiss, and the grumbling fire fighters left.

"What do humans call you?" the half-elf asked in the sudden silence, releasing his hand gingerly.

"Speaker… Sungear," came the reply. "Of the Communications Guild."

Gnomish workers were divided into various guilds-agricultural, philosophical, education, and many others. "I haven't heard of the Gnomish Communications Guild," Tanis observed.

"You will, once I'm through here," Speaker said, turning back to his project. Speaking slowly seemed to come easier now that the excitement of the fire was past. "I'm going to form it as soon as I perfect this mechanism."

Tanis looked up at the contraption, fashioned of gears of all sizes, wire in three colors, and a gigantic horn shaped like a morning glory blossom. The horn's tip fit into a small box the size of the half-elf's thumb. "It seems a bit large to call it a mere mechanism," the half-elf observed.

"Oh, it has a much longer name, of course. It's actually a…"

"No!" Tanis shouted, just in time. "Mechanism is fine."

Speaker looked disappointed. But he shrugged and continued adjusting dozens of knobs and toggle switches on the machine. Finally he stood atop the stool to reach one knob, which he called "an adjustatory demarcation facilitator."

"What does it do?" Tanis finally asked.

"Do?" Speaker repeated. Standing on the stool, his exasperated face was mere inches from Tanis's. "It facilitates the adjustatory demarcation option. Isn't it obvious, half-elf?"

Tanis gazed again at the shiny but ash-spotted apparatus. Then he looked back at Speaker Sungear. The gnome sighed heavily and sat down on the stool. "This apparatus will revolutionize life on Ansalon," the gnome said.

Tanis looked from Speaker to the machine. "Really."

The gnome nodded vigorously. "It will allow all races to speak to one another without being anywhere near each other!"

"Really." Tanis wondered if Speaker Sungear had received a knock to his noggin when he tumbled through the door.

"Really," the half-elf reiterated, gazing at the machine.

"Why?" the gnome demanded. "What does it look like it would do?"

Tanis strolled before the contraption. "It looks like its chief purpose is to make noise." The gnome looked askance. The half-elf reached out to touch a toggle switch, only to bring Speaker Sungear tumbling from his stool in frantic haste.

"This is a carefully adjusted mechanism! Not for amateurs to fool with."

Speaker's expression told the half-elf that the gnome thought his visitor had the intelligence of a gully dwarf. "This"-he pointed to the flower-shaped horn-"collects sunlight, focuses it through my special illuminatory derivation device"-he pointed to the small box at the base of the horn-"and picks up the auditory emanations of ordinary speech"-he indicated a series of small gears ribboned with copper wire-"and translates the auditory ululations into illuminatory permutational vectors"-he showed Tanis a spool wrapped with more wire and a paper covered with figures-"which can be perceived and retranslated back into auditory emanations suitable for comprehension by the ordinary ear!" He stood back and folded his arms across his small chest. It was apparent that he expected an outburst of applause.

"You don't say," Tanis said. He cast about for something else to say. "Why?"

The gnome's violet eyes bugged. "Why? Why!" A pinkish streak was forming across his cheeks and nose. Tanis hoped it wasn't a sign that the gnome was having an apoplectic seizure.

Speaker Sungear inclined his head. The blush faded from his face. "How do you find out about events now?" he asked in an almost fatherly tone, as if explaining dewdrops to a child.

Tanis thought. "From friends. At alehouses. Overhearing things on the road."

"And in larger towns?"

Tanis felt his brow furrow. "Larger alehouses?" he guessed.

Speaker rolled his eyes. "Town criers!" he crowed triumphantly.

"Oh. Town criers."

"Think about it-some human standing on a street corner, yelling the day's events to passersby. It's not efficient!" That seemed to be the worst condemnation the gnome could devise. "Think of the improvements in communication if we could get machines to do it!" Speaker Sungear was enthralled with his notion.

"Machines?"

"Specifically my machine here. It will translate sound into sunlight and back into sound. We could send messages with this apparatus, learn about events in far-off corners of Ansalon almost as they happened!" Speaker, tears in his eyes, caressed the contraption with one hand, then cocked his head. "In fact, as a test, I will use this very machine to transmit some important news to all the inhabitants of Haven." Speaker's mustache drooped. "Of course there are a few wrinkles to smooth out."

"I should say." Tanis decided the creature was harmless, and certainly entertaining. He pulled up a wooden barrel and seated himself. "Tell me more."

"Well, the technological aspect I was working on when… when…" Speaker floundered.

"… when the bugger exploded?" Tanis supplied helpfully.

Speaker cast him a dirty look. "… when I experienced a momentary scientific setback was the illuminatory collection function." He explained how fully half the machine's workings were devoted to collecting the rays of the sun and concentrating them in the tiny box at the tip of the horn. "But I need to create an egress to the outdoors through which the illuminatory emanations will be transmortified. I've tried yards of tubing"-coils of which looped up to a hole in the roof-"but the light evaporates before it ever drains into the device."

"Why not move the contraption outside?" Tanis suggested. "There's plenty of sun out there."

"Unscientific," the gnome said. "Anyway, the device will rust if it gets rained on."

Tanis pointed across the room to the eastern wall. The rising sun made coronas around cracks in the wooden shutter that blocked the window opening. "Why not just open the shutters?"

Speaker looked from him to the window. He murmured and stroked his bearded chin. "It just might work," he agreed. "I'll need an automated illuminatory facilitation coordinator, using wire and a trip switch and…" He set to work, turning his back on the half-elf.

Tanis watched the busy gnome for a short time, then walked across the stable and threw open the shutters. He folded back the two halves and fastened them in place. "There."

Speaker jumped. "How did you do that?" he shouted. When Tanis showed him, the gnome's face crinkled in revulsion. "Crude. What if no one's around to open the window?"

Tanis was saved from replying, however, by the gnome's burst of activity. The small creature bustled from switch to gear to lever, adjusting the sunbeam collection horn into alignment with the window and traipsing from machine to window and back innumerable times.

"What's in the little box?" Tanis pointed to the tiny box at the tip of the horn. The gnome had fondled it with particular awe.

"My beam-conducting concentration device."

"Which is?"

"A wondrous piece of rock. See!"

The gnome flipped down a little door in the side of the box. Violet light poured into the shadowy stable. Tanis felt his eyes grow wide. "Where did you get that?"

The gnome looked away. "I acquired it-andelevenotherslmightadd-fromaQualinestielfwhohad-retrievedthemfromakenderwhoborrowedthemfroma-hilldwarfwhoboughtthemfromahumanwhowon-themfromagamblingsailorwhogottheminsomefrozen-southernportthenameofwhichlneverlearned-althoughnowlwishlhad."

"In other words, you stole them," Tanis observed. Gnomes were not above outright theft-acceptable in the name of technology and science, of course.

"This could revolutionize…" The gnome stopped at the frown on the half-elf's face. "Ah, what would a half-elf know of science? Elves know only magic, magic, magic." He turned his back and resumed work on his machine. After a while, Tanis realized he'd been dismissed, and he moved toward the open double doors. But he turned back when he heard the gnome crow, "And now the test!"

Speaker Sungear threw the main switch just as the sun rose above the low building to the east. Its beams poured into the window, over the floor, and into the huge metal horn.

"By the gods," Tanis said in awe. Unbelievably, the contraption began to percolate. It spluttered and creaked and groaned, and Tanis remembered Flint reciting a proverb about gnomes: Everything gnomish makes five times the noise it needs to. The air around the horn began to glow. Speaker Sungear leaned forward and hummed a gnomish folk tune into a mesh of wire. Sparks of purple and magenta erupted around the box that held the violet stone. Then the machine gave a hum-the same notes the gnome had hummed. Speaker froze, wordless, before the apparatus; tears streamed down his cheeks. "It works! By the great god Reorx, father of gnomes and dwarves, it works!"

The machine continued to hum-the same tune, over and over, faster and faster. Metal rasped against metal. The violet glow around the stone's box became an angry, plum-colored haze.

Tanis took a step toward the gnome. "Speaker…" The gnome didn't seem to hear him. More sparks spat from the base of the horn. The creaking turned to shuddering, which in turn became convulsions. Bits of metal were being shaken off the contraption. Light and smoke spewed from widening gaps between parts. Tanis leaped to close the shutters. Darkness closed around them, but the machine continued to heave and shudder. "Shut it off!" he shouted to the gnome.

"I…" Speaker faltered. "… can't."

Tanis grabbed the gnome around his thick middle and catapulted toward the open door. Speaker struggled, protesting all the way. "Half-elf, I've got to see what hap-"

Tanis dove into the street just as the contraption, and then the building, shattered into a thousand flaming pieces. Bits of wood and metal rained upon fleeing onlookers. Tanis flung Speaker Sungear under a wagon and dove after him. They caught their breath as dozens of people, in various stages of undress, dashed from surrounding buildings to form a bucket brigade between the conflagration and the town well. A quick check by the half-elf revealed nothing but minor bumps and bruises on either of them.

"It must have been the tangential hydroencephalator, now that I think about it," Speaker said. "Inadequate water filtration to prevent ancillary overheating."

Tanis had nothing to say.

"I've no time to build another device today. Or money, for that matter." For the first time, the gnome seemed deflated. Then he brightened. "Of course, there might be pieces of the device left. Oh!" He dimmed again. "The beam-conducting concentration device!"

"What?" Tanis had about had it with gnomes. "The what?"

"The purple stone. It's destroyed. I saw it explode as you hauled me away." His face crinkled with thought. "This will take some engineering." He seemed delighted at the prospect.

"Didn't you say you'd 'acquired' eleven others?" Tanis asked.

"Yes, but I sold them to buy wire. Nearly a year ago. To a mage. Before I knew what technological promise they held." The gnome mused, "Perhaps I could buy them back… but I have no money."

"You could always steal them back," Tanis said spitefully, and he began to back out from under the wagon. Speaker Sungear looked reproachfully at him, and the half-elf relented. "Why don't you just tell

people your important news? Wouldn't that be just as efficient under the circumstances?" he added tactfully.

"Yes, but…"

"So stand on the street corner and holler."

The gnome looked aghast. "Do it myself?"

Tanis nodded.

"Me, a town crier," Speaker muttered. "If my mother could see me. So unscientific. So inefficient."

"So necessary."

With another reproachful glance, Speaker Sungear crawled out from under the wagon. Ignoring the throngs of people who'd gathered to watch the fire burn itself out and without so much as a glance back at the smoldering heap of wreckage that used to be his laboratory, the gnome started toward the busiest corner of the market. Tanis trailed behind. Speaker took up a stance. "Hear ye, hear ye!" the gnome bellowed. No one listened.

Tanis sidled up to Speaker. "You need a platform of some kind," he advised.

The gnome looked about. "I could build one," he conceded. "An automatic gnome-lifting trans-"

In reply, the half-elf scooped up the gnome and set him on one wide shoulder. "Now, town crier, spread your news."

"Oh, this is so… manual," Speaker murmured, clutching the half-elf's auburn hair to keep his balance. Then he waved the other hand and bellowed "Hear ye, hear ye!" again. This time several people turned to listen. "I have news…"

He recited his litany of news-only three items, it turned out, but one drew Tanis's attention. "The heads of the Haven agricultural consortium, meeting in an emergency session, have offered a reward of fifteen steel to the person or persons who kill the ettin that's been slaying farm stock south of Haven," Speaker trumpeted.

"What's an ettin?" a man shouted from the back of the throng.

"An ettin is a creature, twelve or thirteen feet tall, with two heads, usually native to cold, mountainous climates. It is related to the trolls, and in fact is sometimes called a two-headed troll."

The crowd murmured. The man in question shook his head and moved away, followed by several others. Speaker continued, "The ettin eats only meat. In fact, this one has slaughtered and devoured fully a half-dozen cows, several dogs, numerous chickens, and a dozen sheep. Last night it came upon and attacked a shepherd south of Haven. The man assayed to stop the beast from raiding his flock and paid with his life."

The remaining listeners blanched and hurried away. Speaker said a few more words, then halted. His audience was gone. "Was it my delivery?" he asked the half-elf.

"No, my friend. It was the ettin," Tanis said good-naturedly.

Tanis bid the confused gnome good-bye and minutes later was taking the steps of the Seven Centaurs two at a time. He didn't see Wode sit up suddenly on a bench across the street.

"How would you feel about hunting down a monster for pay?" Tanis said without preamble as he entered his and Kitiara's room.

The swordswoman was dressed but pale. The empty tankard of tea, with crumbs of toast next to it, stood on a tray on the chair by the door. "Pregnancy tea, my foot, half-elf," Kitiara said with a growl. Then she caught what he'd said. "Kill a monster? For how much?"

"Fifteen steel."

She whistled.

"Ever hear of an ettin?" he asked.

Kitiara stood stock-still. "A two-headed troll?" Two lines appeared between her eyes; she seemed to look deep within. "No, it's impossible," she murmured to herself. Aloud, ignoring Tanis's quizzical look, she said, "My last employer had an ettin slave. I know something about them. They're dangerous but stupid and, like most stupid things, very, very loyal."

"Feel like trying to slay one?"

Kitiara didn't react with the immediate enthusiasm Tanis had expected, but the half-elf put that down to her probable hangover. "We'd take care of your debt to Mackid, send him on his way, and have five steel left over," he said.

Kitiara gazed at him. "Why are you doing this, Tanis?" she asked softly. "You don't owe Caven Mackid anything. An ettin is a dangerous beast."

Tanis began folding his few belongings into his pack. He didn't speak for a few moments, and when he finally did, his face was averted. "You saved my life back there with the will-o'-the-wisp," he said.

Kitiara's expression was a study in suspicion.

"We worked well together then," the half-elf continued at last. "We could do so again."

He said no more. After standing for some time in apparent indecision, Kitiara shook her head and also began to pack. "It's your skin, half-elf. At any rate," she said quietly, seemingly to herself, "I'd rather take on the ettin here than in Solace. I don't want to draw the creature near home."

Tanis looked up from his pack, surprise on his face. "Why would we draw it toward Solace? What are you thinking of, Kit?"

But Kitiara would say no more. Moments later they were astride Dauntless and Obsidian, heading for the trail that led south out of Haven.

"What is it?" Tanis asked an hour later. He heard nothing but rustling foliage.

"Someone is following us." Kitiara bit her lip and moved her hand to her sword.

In response, Tanis clicked his tongue at Dauntless; the big gelding, used to the ways of the road, was already heading for cover along the path. Kitiara and Obsidian melted into the vegetation at the other side.

Soon two horsemen hove into view, galloping with a fever that left their horses lathered. Kitiara and Tanis, recognizing the followers, moved back onto the trail. Caven pulled up his black stallion with such abruptness that the horse reared, showering Tanis and Dauntless with sweat and towering so high that Mackid's black hair brushed against the pine and maple branches. Behind him, Wode eased a wheezing nag to a halt and remained several paces back, out of reach of the stallion.

Caven's steed was a raw-boned hulk, coal-black except for the whites of his eyes, a star on his forehead, and the gleaming teeth that snapped even with a bit in his mouth. Dauntless was large, but the stallion dwarfed him.

"I knew you'd try to slink away, Kitiara!" Caven shouted.

Kitiara didn't reply at first. Then she drawled, "Posted a spy, did you, Mackid?"

"With good reason, it seems. Where are you going? This isn't the way to Solace. Trying to throw me off the trail, aren't you?"

Tanis spoke up. "We're off to win your money back, Mackid."

Caven's face reflected disbelief. "How?" was all he said.

"To catch an ettin. For the reward money."

"An ettin?" Caven's black horse danced back and forth, apparently as impatient as its rider. The other three horses stamped, too, responding to the big stallion's agitation. "Then why not tell me so?"

Tanis looked at Kitiara, an unspoken question in his eyes. The swordswoman sighed and shrugged. "I told the half-elf I would leave you a message."

"That…?" Mackid snapped.

"That we'd be back in Haven in a week with your money."

Mackid gazed at Kitiara. "Doubtless you forgot," he said, irony oozing from each word. Then he smiled at Tanis. "I warned you. Don't trust her, half-elf."

Tanis only grunted and frowned at the swordswoman.

"Anyway," Mackid added, "the message is unnecessary. I'm going with you."

"We don't need your help," the half-elf said.

Caven Mackid laughed. "Do you think I'd let Kitiara get away again? What's to stop her from collecting the reward money and slipping away from us both?" He reined in the stallion, then guided the horse between Dauntless and Obsidian, who edged away. Wode, looking bored, took up a position at the rear. "Let's go," Mackid said.

There seemed to be no recourse. The four rode on in silence, speaking only when Caven's stallion nipped at the other horses when they drew too close.

"Where did you get such a beast?" Tanis finally asked.

"On Mithas." Mithas, on the far side of the Blood Sea of Istar, was the home of the minotaurs, the half-man, half-bull creatures noted for their ferocity in warfare and their willingness to fight for pay.

Caven grinned and answered the unspoken question. "I won Maleficent in a game of bones. From his minotaur master." Mackid threw back his head and laughed. "As if anyone could be master to Maleficent! The creature barely tolerates me, and that's only because he knows I'm as stubborn and black-hearted as he."

Minotaurs were notorious for slaying outsiders. The man had taken the ultimate risk in challenging a minotaur, even in something as seemingly harmless as a game of bones.

Caven nodded at Dauntless. "Where'd you get that… carnival pony, half — elf?" Tanis felt annoyance rise like a boil. Dauntless had taken the half-elf through dozens of encounters, facing all manner of dangers, from highwaymen to goblins. If he also was gentle enough to trust with children, what of it?

But the four would have to keep some peace if they were to bring back the ettin. Thus Tanis didn't respond to Caven's jibe; he merely nudged Dauntless into the ragged gait that passed for the gelding's canter and moved into the lead.

It was time to find an ettin.