Authors: Kim Hunter
felt like snatching the pike and ramming it down the trolls windpipe, but there were far too many of the creatures to attempt any escape. They looked strong, too. For their size they had huge shoulders and backs, and deep boat-shaped chests with a ridge from chin to waist. Their big heads rocked on very short necks, but for the most part they were muscular individuals. One of them ran ahead, blowing a cow-horn, the hollow notes of the instrument floating up the cliff-side. High above came the excited sounds of celebration. The raiders were returning with victims and perhaps treasure. Soldier and Spagg were forced up a narrow path not much wider than a goat track. Once they reached the top of the escarpment they found themselves on the walls of a fortress. The natural curve and shape of the rock was given to a defensive position, but this had been enhanced by walls built between rock towers and stacks, thus ensuring that the river raiders hide-out on the shelves above the valley was virtually impregnable. Looking around him, Soldier assessed that it would take an army to breach these defences, with sangars large enough for a single archer to hide behind; rope bridges which could be withdrawn at a moments notice from one high vantage point to another; natural towers and inaccessible turrets. A huge horde of river-raiding trolls garrisoned the fort: they looked well-armed and ready to fight any foe sent against them. An invading force would pay a dear price to capture this place. Very impressive, he told his troll captors. Not an easy fort to overrun. I see you have deep wells too! And goats and other livestock. A seige would be difficult. I congratulate you on your choice of position. Me speak you same tongue, grunted a troll. The creature was now wearing one of the murdered old mans red socks on his head as a loose, dangling hat. Ears as ugly as dried figs poked out from beneath the rolled-up sock bottom. He was also wearing a grimy, grey vest which hung on him like the shift of a country milking wench. Soldier assumed this was one of the old mans undergarments. You shut mouth. Ah, you have a command of human tongue . . . began Soldier, but he was immediately silenced by the butt end of a spear in his stomach. When he had recovered his breath, he was forced through the grounds of the fortress, until he stood before a troll with a long, dark, wispy beard, which trailed in the dust at his feet. He stared at Soldier with obvious displeasure. Spagg he did not even waste a glance on. The troll who had spoken before, a fat fellow about two-and-a-half-feet tall, was obviously the intermediary. The bearded troll said something in what was almost the growl of a wolf The intermediary nodded and turned to Soldier. He want know if you rich? Im not wealthy, replied Soldier. I havent two bronze miadores to rub together. This appeared to be a mistake, this honesty, because immediately three or four trolls stepped forward with battle axes in their hands and would have felled the hapless Soldier like a tree, starting with his legs, if Spagg had not yelled at them that the man was lying, that he was rich. Take no notice of him, cried Spagg. Hes got more courage than sense. His wife is Princess Layana of Zamerkand. The lady of the Wildf lowers. If you ransom him shell pay a fortune to get him back. Me too. Im his lifetime servant and friend. Shell pay to get us both home safely. Dont pander to them, snarled Soldier. Im not afraid of these short people. You ought to be, Spagg said. If they think youre useless theyll kill you without a second thought. This is their trade. Theyre river pirates. They stop everything that comes along this waterway and charge a toll. Since we havent got the price of a crust between us theyll either ransom us or kill us and eat us tonight. Did I mention theyre cannibals? The trolls looked suspiciously at their prisoners. Whether they believed they had a prisoner worth ransoming or not the pair did not learn. Soldier and Spagg were manacled in chains attached to the wall of the fort. They were in full view of all who passed by them. It seemed that most trolls, especially the females, felt it necessary to give either one or both of them a kick or a punch. They became the butt of ribald jokes and the target for throwers of vegetables and, occasionally, stones. Now were in trouble, groaned Spagg. Well never get out of this. Even as he spoke one of the trolls was leading a giant owl out of a stable. A troll, smaller than the rest, climbed onto this creatures back. The handlers released the lines tethering the bird to the ground and it took off, with its rider, into the afternoon sky. Soon it became a mere speck in the heavens. It was heading towards Zamerkand, in the east. The sock-wearing troll came to them shortly. He go on horse of air to find money. I hope he finds a spear of fire, replied Soldier, grimly. I hope they send up a falcon to greet him. Spagg cried, No, no, he dont mean that. He speaks without thinkin, this man. The troll grimaced. He no speak no thinking. He hate troll people. Not all troll people, said Soldier, pleasantly, only those murdering thieves and brigands who stop legitimate river traffic to kill and rob. I am a lieutenant in the red pavilions. When I return to Zamerkand I shall take the Eagle Pavilion and return here and wipe out this colony of misguided, malicious little assassins as I would a nest of scorpions. Spagg let out a false laugh, as if he thought Soldier a jolly fellow. You shut up, snarled the troll, at Spagg. I roast you firstly. I eat you eyes. I eat you heart. Spagg winced on hearing this. When he saw it was useless to try to get on the trolls good side, he too became angry. See those orrible horny appendages, he nodded at the trolls hands and feet, which looked too big for his body size, Ill cut them off meself and sell em cheap to some dollmaker. Hell put em on a clay doll with a painted face and sell the doll to hang on doors to scare away demons. Nothing could have enraged the troll more than to speak of his feet and hands. Trolls were very sensitive about their overlarge appendages. Otherworld creatures fairies, elves, goblins and the like - all made fun of the size of the hands and feet of trolls. Me eat you liver! he screamed in Spaggs face, his bad breath mingling with the equally foul breath coming from the mouth of Spagg with its gums full of rotten teeth. Me eat you tongues. Me eat you brains, retorted Spagg, with some spirit, if me can find a small enough biscuit to put em on. The troll whipped the old mans sock off his head and began to flay Spagg with it. Spagg laughed and jeered. The troll kicked him. Spagg yelled at the troll, then laughed again. Finally the troll spat in Spaggs face and walked away, screaming threats over his shoulder, saying that even if the ransom came he would still kill both his captives and eat them. Now youve done it, said Soldier. Spagg snorted in indignation. Me? You started it. Yes, but my insults were reasonable. You had to go and mention his hands and feet. Well never get out of here now. The pair were kept chained to the wall for three days with very little food. On the second day they smelled roast meat and Soldiers saliva juices were running. They were famished. It was agony being within the odour of that roast and not being able to join in the feasting. Finally Redsock brought Spagg and Soldier some rashers of cooked meat. They both gobbled these morsels down. The roast meat, running with hot greasy fat, tasted delicious. It had obviously been basted for hours as it cooked over a slow fire. Redsock laughed at their eagerness. You eat you friend, he screamed, as other trolls gathered round and laughed. You eat him buttocks. What? asked Spagg. You eat old man on boat. We cook him, eat him liver, eat him heart, eat him brains. He very tasty. Redsock licked his lips and rubbed his tummy as he grinned at them with blackened teeth. You silly men. You cannibal. Youre the cannibals, roared Spagg. Youre the ones who cooked him to eat. Redsock looked superior and shook his head. We no cannibal. We trolls. We no eat trolls. We eat peoples. You peoples are peoples. You eat old man. You cannibal. Hes got us there, muttered Soldier, feeling queasy. Were the cannibals all right. It rained once in three days and they were able to lap puddle water from the ground to quench their thirst and try to wash away the taste of animal fat from their mouths. At the end of this period the troll owl-rider returned. He seemed upset and annoyed. Redsock came to see the prisoners a little later. He was none too happy either. Princess no can be found. Troll can no speak with queen. Only with queens man. Man say no money. Man say kill you dead and riddance. Queens man? queried Soldier. Now who would that be? No care less, said Redsock, turning away. We eat you breakfast. It seemed that the trolls cared little that no money had arrived. They celebrated the fact that there was to be a meat feast in the morning. They enjoyed a brew of fermented pine-sap and proceeded to get drunk on it. All afternoon they swigged from wooden bowls, their behaviour becoming more and more outrageous as the day wore on. There were horrible fights in which they clawed at each other with hands and feet, trying to blind their opponents. There were displays of idiocy, where some of them tried to jump a wide chasm, until one drunken troll fell two hundred feet and his crumpled body sobered those others who felt they could make the leap. They were sick where they stood, their vomit freezing to ice. They came and spat on the prisoners when they felt a mind to, saying it would lubricate the meat and was a precursor to basting. Finally they were all so drunk they fell upon the ground in a stupor and lost consciousness. Evening came, then night followed. It was bitterly cold. Soldier studied the stars as he sat with his back against the wall, the manacles chafing his wrists and ankles. Spagg had fallen into an exhausted, fitful sleep by his side. Had it come to this? To die at the hands of some mean, little, unscrupulous river pirates? Surely he had a higher purpose than this deserved? But perhaps all men on the point of death think that? Perhaps we all believe that our place in the great plan our mission in life deserves more than a foreshortening of our natural span, especially when the executors are less than worthy themselves. But was a death in some fusty bed where the greasy linen clings to a body which has already begun decomposing was that any better than dying in the open air, with the scents and sounds of nature stimulating our senses? Soldier thought not - but still - still he regretted having to die. A fine pickle youre in. Soldier stared at a piece of darkness. There was a shape there as black as the night itself. Only the stars shining on its shiny feathers told Soldier who it was. Raven, he whispered, in some relief. When I saw that owl coming over the castle, I knew it was you that was in trouble. So I followed it back. I suppose you want me to pick the locks on those manacles? Can you do that? asked Soldier, hopefully. Without replying the raven flew down and settled on Soldiers wrist. Immediately he began pecking at the lock, getting the point of his beak inside the keyhole and working it around. It seemed to be taking an age and Soldier was afraid there was a problem. Finally, after a lot of scratching and scraping, the lock snapped open. Bit rusty, said the bird, but well get them done. The raven worked on the manacles one by one, until Soldier was free. Spagg remained asleep all throughout this operation. Soldier woke him by clamping a hand over his mouth. The hand-sellers eyes bulged in fear, probably thinking his time had come. Then Soldier whispered in his ear, telling him to remain quiet. The raven then worked on Spaggs manacles and eventually freed him too. By this time it was nearly dawn. All around the snow-covered battlements of the trolls fort were little creatures lying asleep, snoring away as if the temperature were not several degrees below zero. Many of them remained drunk on the fermented pine sap. There were still pools of frozen vomit everywhere. I see theres been a wassail, the raven muttered. No one invited me. Not so much a wassail as a race to break all the seven deadly sins in one fell swoop, replied Spagg. Lets get out of here, whispered Soldier. We need to be well away before daylight wakes them.
Chapter Twenty
Much to the consternation of Spagg, Soldier crept around and through the troll bodies to locate his sword and sheath. The weapon was hanging from the spur of a rock where it had been placed by one of the trolls. At the foot of the spur was the backpack containing, among other things, the enchanted brigandine. Once he was armed again Soldier was tempted to put on the brigandine for protection and begin slaying the owners of the fort. Such was his anger at these monsters who had kept him prisoner for so long without nourishment. He resisted the urge, however, and after putting the pack on his back, he rejoined Spagg at the wall. The two men climbed over the wall and began descending the steep path leading down the cliff-face. They passed several troll sentries who had fallen asleep. The raven flew ahead of them, his dark winged form stark against the snow of the valley below. It did not take the party long to reach the bottom of the escarpment. They then began to run along the river bank, travelling westwards. Before they had gone half a mile however they heard the sound of a cow-horn carrying over the snow. The trolls had woken and discovered their captives were missing. The raven landed in the snow and urged the humans forward. Get a move on! Those hairy little beasts will be on you before you know it. Dont you value your lives? Quickly, quickly. The two men went as fast as they could, but they were weak from hunger. Spagg, whose fear was a wonderful spur, was actually faster than Soldier, who had to carry the pack. But neither man was making great progress through the deep snow. When they reached a black-branched, tangled spinney on top of a rise, they paused to gulp down breath. Soldier felt he could run no more. He turned to face his pursuers, sword in hand, ready to fight and die if that was what it had come to. The trolls had swarmed out of the hillside fort and down the steep slopes to the river. Now they were battling through the same deep snow towards their quarry, waving their thick clubs. Here, said Soldier, taking his warhammer out of the backpack, you take this, Spagg. Im no hand-to-hand fighter, said Spagg, looking at the weapon he had been given. Ive never killed anyone like that. I can throw a knife, thats all. Good for you, said the raven. Soldier growled. If you dont fight here and now youll be beaten to death. Theres a time to contemplate the niceties of life and a time to disregard them. Youre both going to die anyway, the raven said cheerfully. Look how many are coming! Youll be overwhelmed in a few minutes. Well, goodbye Soldier, it was a pleasure knowing you. I think Ill leave you now. I cant do anything to help and I dont wish to watch you both being slaughtered. In the vanguard of the trolls was Redsock. He looked enraged. It seemed he took the escape as a personal affront to his hospitality, because he was shouting, You peoples bod guests. You no say thank you. I bash you head full with thank yous . . . Spagg looked down at the warhammer in his right hand. Well, he said with a resigned sigh, I aint goin to go out whimperin like a beaten dog. I suppose killing a troll aint like killin a person. More like killing a rat. Lord Theg, give me strength. I was a novice priest, remember? I did my duty, my service to the Sacred Seven. Dont let me die like a dog in the snow. Save your faithful apprentice to worship you again in the temples of the land. Gifts I will bring you. Orisons I will intone. Liturgies, litanies, what you like, only dont let em get me, Theg. Thats not too much to ask, is it? Like most atheists, Spagg was not above appealing to the gods, once death stared him in the face. The trolls swarmed towards them, indeed looking very much like clothed rats. Just then, the raven returned and landed on the branch of a tree nearby. Somethings coming, the raven said. I got out of the sky just in time. The two men, about to be engulfed by trolls, looked up into the blue and saw a red-and-green winged shape descending towards them. What is it? cried Spagg. Its not a bird. Its not a bat either. Its massive. Oh, goddess Kist, I know you hate humans, but what is this flying beast youve sent? The shape grew larger and more definable in the morning air. It was green with a bright red underside. Its head was larger than its shoulders. It had long jaws full of white, pointed teeth and its black talons flashed in the icy daylight. Spagg cried, Its a dragon! One of those things could swallow me whole, said the raven, hunching himself smaller on the branch, and adding, Of course, Im just a tid-bit. Theres other food running around on two legs which would satisfy a dragons hunger. The dragon landed in the snow just a few yards away, just as the trolls reached the two runaway prisoners. SLAHGGUS, it said. It was a muscular creature, about as large as an average-sized bear. Its green ears, sprouting stamen-like bunches of yellow hair, stood tall and straight as spires on the back of its head. Cavernous nostrils breathed blasts of hot air which melted the snow in front of the creature, now standing on its back legs. On its small front limbs were its lesser claws, which it clicked together like a man flicking the fingernails of his two hands against each other. Lesser claws these pairs might be, but they could disembowel a man with a single slash. There was a lightning streak down the dragons nose, which was its own personal mark - its name if you like - by which it was known in the world of dragons. Every dragon of every type had one of these marks on its nose and they were unique, differing slightly in their jaggedness, colour or size. This was a young male dragon which had just reached puberty. Its purple eyes regarded the prey around it. There were men and there were trolls. A choice had to be made. These men and these trolls regarded the dragon with some trepidation. Both knew they were facing one of the worlds most savage predators. A dragon, like a shark, thinks of filling its stomach before considering anything else. All the warm-blooded creatures stood like statues, waiting for the dragon to make its move, so the survivors could run. Some would undoubtedly escape while the dragon was devouring friends, but one thing was certain from the moment the creature landed it would eat. Redsock imparted some intelligence, though he did not move a muscle in case he attracted attention to himself. He go eat you, said Redsock to Soldier and Spagg. He eat fat juicy man, not stringy troll. Were not so fat and juicy after you starved us, reminded Soldier. You still fatter than troll. This was undoubtedly true. The trolls were so short they were up to their armpits in snow, while Soldier and Spagg were only up to their thighs. The dragon could see most of what was available to it on the men, could mentally joint them. Even half-starved the humans were obviously the more succulent, tasty items on the menu. Soldier waited hopefully for the armoured hunter to come out of the white wilderness and save him the same who had rescued him from the witch but his saviour did not appear and the dragon suddenly lurched forward. Redsock was unafraid now. He was convinced the dragon would eat the men first. There would be time to run away. Redsock screamed. One moment he had been standing there, a smug expression on his face, the next he was in the dragons jaws. There was a crunch of skull-bone and his body went floppy. A hand opened in reflex and a club fell with a soft plop into the snow. Trolls began running now, back to their fortress home. Redsock was dropped and a second one was snatched up, just as he thought he was heading for safety. The dragon bit off his head and swallowed it, leaving the limbs jerking on a raw-necked torso, so that it thrashed in the snow. The dragon quickly ate his way through the available meat, surprisingly bird-like in its table manners. It hardly used its forepaws, preferring instead to draw the body into its mouth with its back teeth. When it had finished, it turned and stared at the two men, frozen to the spot in exhaustion and horror. KKKERRRROOOW, cried the dragon, sending out a long hot tongue to lick Soldiers hair. KKKERRROOOW! It was a kind of whine the sort of noise a cat might make when it wanted petting - only much louder of course. Go and pat it, croaked the raven. What? cried Soldier, his hair standing on end. Not on your life. Do it. Do it now. There was something in the ravens tone which made Soldier step a few paces forward and pat the dragons head. The skin was surprising silky to the touch. The dragon made a mewling sound. Soldier patted it again. The dragon dropped on all fours for a moment, licked Soldiers legs with his rough tongue, then stood up again and swiftly rose into the air. All the way across the sky, until it was a small dot in the heavens, it kept calling that same sound, KERROWW KERROWW Spagg fell backwards in the snow as if he had been felled by an axe. Thegs legwarmers, he murmured in sweet relief, were still alive. I was sure we was in for it there. Oh, you lovely snow and ice, so cold on my face. I can still feel you. Im still alive and warm, and alive, and, yes, he pinched himself, alive and warm. Oh gracious gods of the seven mountains. Will I ever doubt you again? What happened there? asked Soldier, puzzled, as he rested in the snow before going on. Why didnt it attack us? I could have sworn it sized us up and down, and then it attacked the trolls instead. Surely we were more of a meal than those hard-muscled creatures? Spagg sat up, before replying. I dont know why for reasons known only to the dragon itself, I suppose but Im very, very glad. Wrong. The two men stared at a tree branch. It had been the raven who spoke. Whats wrong? asked Soldier. As well as the dragon itself, I too know the reasons why it didnt attack you. Did you hear that sound it kept repeating? I happen to be very familiar with male dragons and I speak their language. Im not bragging, its not a hard tongue to learn and understand. Male dragons speak only five words from eggshell to the grave. Food, mother, mine, fight and yes. Dont they have a word for no? asked Spagg. During their long, eventful lives male dragons only get asked one question by fellow male dragons. Fight? To which they always answer Yes since invariably the conflict is over mating rights with a female dragon or dragons. And what about female dragons? Oh, they have a large, comprehensive vocabulary, full of diphthongs, and upper and lower plate clicks, to differentiate between gerunds and subjunctive nouns, with rolling verbs and exploding adjectives. Dont stand too close when theyre describing something because you get sprayed with warm spittle. Their sentences tend to be looping, the last word fitting into the first word as a kind of locking belt-buckle. For instance if the first word is VALUCUME - meaning sovereign-lord the last word will be something like GNASVALU meaning dead-fish, the beginning and the end syllables fitting each other exactly. I dont speak a lot of female dragon-language. It has far too many nuances and is spoken very fast. Theres a kind of etiquette which says that the reply must always be faster than the question. Since many conversations involve questions and answers the speech gets quicker and quicker, until the whole thing is just a varying drone, like a bee buzz, or cricket song. I only asked, grumbled Spagg. Soldier was fascinated, though still not sure that the raven was not inventing the whole idea of dragon-language, just to fool the two men. So why do the males only speak five words and the females thousands? Hundreds of thousands. Well, the females have more to talk about. Theyre actually fussier about what they eat and prefer herbs and vegetables to meat. They not only have names for all the plants, but each individual plant has several names which carry a description, to denote texture, colour, age ... A TANAL might be a dark green dock leaf with a rough underside, while a TAMIL might be a light green dock leaf with a sharp edge to it. Do you see what I mean? Subtleties. Soldier was sure now that the raven was being facetious. So, when the dragon our dragon, the one that ate the two trolls - when it shouted SLAHGGUS that meant . . .? Food. Soldier nodded, sagely. Of course. And KERROWW? Mother. Soldier frowned, losing his superiority for a moment. What? The word means mother. Thats what it called you. Mother. Thats why it didnt eat you. Or rather us. Because you were its mother and we were under your protection. A light suddenly dawned in Soldiers mind. The egg I found on Mount Kkamaramm! he exclaimed. I was the first thing the baby dragon saw when it hatched. I fed it. There you are, said the raven, problem solved. Youre blue-eyed and therefore instantly recognisable, my two-legged friend. So, youre the mother of a dragon? I suppose were lucky it wasnt the real mother. Egg-stealing is a very serious crime amongst dragons. So is posing as a dragon-mother. If I were you Id tread very carefully around large mountain nests. The raven left them about noon. Soldier and Spagg continued battling through the snowdrifts, fighting their way westwards towards the mountains of the Sacred Seven. It was in the mid-levels of these mountains that wizards dwelt in larger numbers than anywhere else in Guthrum. Large numbers in wizard terms being around a bakers dozen. Wizards are happier living in the shadow of the gods, where the air is charged with mystery and superstition. They rarely seek neighbours of mortal hue. It was in these mountains Soldier hoped to find a wizard who would cure his wife of her madness and possibly soJve the mystery of his loss of memory. The following morning, they hunted a hind, tracking it across the snow. Their hunger was their spur. Once they had the beast cornered in a dark copse which crowned a smooth hill, it was Spaggs job to flush the creature out. Soldier had made himself a longbow out of yew, with ash-wand arrows, and waited on the far side of the trees for the animal to bolt, so that he could shoot it down on the run. Soldier was not as proficient with the longbow as he was with the crossbow, but he hoped to get in a good shot at close range. The hind broke from the trees after Spagg had gone in clattering a dagger-blade against a drinking cup. Soldier went down on one knee as the frightened hind sped by him, nimble despite the deep snow. He loosed the arrow. The haft struck the hind behind the left shoulder and brought the beast down into the snow. I got it - we got it! shouted Soldier. Another creature, a dwarf, suddenly appeared from a blasted hollow oak trunk, whose cavity was large enough for the dwarf to shelter from any blizzard or winter storm. Mine! shouted the dwarf. I shot it! Spagg came up behind the dwarf and clouted him a backhander around the ear. You aint even got a bow, you little sniveller. Get away, before I lose my temper. The
chunky dwarf went roaring off, into the wood, yelling insults over his shoulder. In the meantime Soldier was running as fast as he could through the drifts. When he reached the wounded hind it was still alive. It lay there, its red blood blotting the white snow. Its big brown eyes looked up at him. They were full of terror. It tried to get to its feet again, scrambling, scrabbling, churning up ice crystals from below the light fluffy topcoat which had fallen that morning, but its hooves could not grip and the arrow, sticking out, remained an awkward obstacle, its flight stuck in the drift. You poor creature, murmured Soldier, pitying it, how beautiful you are. He did not so much regret killing the beast, for he and Spagg were close to starving, but he could still appreciate the fear and distress the animal was going through. He knelt down with his hunting knife, to cut the hinds throat, when he noticed it had a black velvet collar studded with jewels. The collar bore a silver plate on which were etched some words: Touch me not, for Caezors I am. What? Whats this? cried Soldier. A tame hind? If it belongs to someone, whats the creature doing out here in the wilds? He reached over and pulled the arrow from its wound. Since the barb had been hastily fashioned, with inadequate tools, it was not severe. The arrow came out fairly easily. Once it was removed the hind leapt to its feet and was running across the snow, towards a distant hill. Spagg arrived just as the hind darted away. Oh, ye deadly plagues and orrible diseases, cried Spagg in consternation and disappointment, take me now, cause I cant hunt another one of them things. He fell down beside Soldier, who was still kneeling in the snow, and tears coursed down his cheeks. What happened? he wailed. I thought you had it in your hands? I did, I did, replied Soldier, still staring after the hind. But it it was a tame creature. It had a collar with a phrase on it. Touch me not, it said. They taste just as good, you know, shouted Spagg, still desperately upset. Tame or wild, the meat would have settled nicely on my stomach, which is now complaining so loudly they can hear it back in Zamerkand. Lets follow it, replied Soldier, seeing that beside the creatures prints was a blood trail. Lets track the spoor. Im sure itll drop before it gets a mile. We might still yet have our venison lunch if we can find that fawn. Spagg climbed wearily to his feet and followed after Soldier into the wilderness. They plodded through the deep snow to the top of the next rise. It took them an hour. When they reached there they were met by a heavy-set bulky man on horseback. His beard was thick, curly and black, and covered most of his face. He wore a velvet cap with a beautiful golden brooch pinned on it. His robes were fit for a king, being made of velvet and ermine. Around his neck dangled a thick gold chain with a gold pendant. His leggings were of chewed deerskin and looked soft. They were held in place by rawhide crisscrossed straps coming up from leather boots that were so pliable they gathered in elegant folds at his ankles. His horse was a magnificent white charger, strong-looking, with a maroon saddle rich in the workmanship of an expert. Have you seen a . . .? began Spagg, accusingly, but Soldier stopped him with a wave of his hand. Who are you, sir? asked Soldier of the rider. Is this your land? I am Caezor, the alchemist, and this is indeed my land, said the deep-throated rider. You are poaching. Poaching what? We havent killed anything, replied Soldier, warily. You carry a hunting-bow. You look starved. You are tracking blood in the snow. I confess we are hungry, replied Soldier, but we are not conscious thieves. The woodland dwarves steal half my game already. They use snares to trap them. Snares kill very slowly. They are cruel devices. I trust you do not use snares? Nope, replied Spagg, nor gin traps neither. We hunt on the fair and square, with bow and arrow. Then follow me to my house, gentlemen, where you shall find warmth and succour. My wife is at this moment cooking a supper which will soon fill out those limbs of yours and put some heat in your blood. With that the big man led the way on his horse. Over the next rise they came upon a large single-storey dwelling by a lake, with trees to the back. It was a rambling lodge with about twenty high chimneys that reached up into the white swirling sky. On each end of the lodge were squat, round turrets with peaked roofs. The windows were narrow and mean, the sort to keep out harsh winters and help to make the interior cool in hot weather. There was the smell of woodsmoke in the air hickory and pine - coming from the many chimneys. This is my abode, called Gaezor the Alchemist. Welcome, gentlemen. Gome inside. The big man dismounted and led his horse through a wide archway into a coaching yard. There he handed the reins to a dwarf groom who took the wonderful beast to its stable. The three men then trailed through horse dung to a back door and entered a steaming kitchen which smelled like heaven to the two famished travellers. This way, this way, called Caezor, leading them through to a door at the far end, into the hall. They found themselves in a great hall, the walls covered with shields and weapons, some of them for hunting, others for war. The floor was tiled with slate and the walls and ceiling were of red hardwood. There was a great dining table, scarred with the marks of many knives, down at the end, with tall-backed oak chairs around it. Magnificent hides hung on the walls as tapestries, to keep in the warmth. In a wide open fireplace a fire roared happily, sending woodsparks up the chimney. There was an ox roasting on a spit over its flames. A pretty young woman in a velvet dress was basting the carcass. The woman looked up and smiled. She had large, soft, brown eyes. Her shoulder, below the green velvet dress, revealed a bandage which bore a small patch of red stain the size of a pedlars coin. She looked about a third of Caezors age, was petite and slim, and her heart-shaped face, with its small nose and bow-cherry lips, was that of one of the prettiest females Soldier had ever seen. Her hair, falling from a small green cap, was a tumble of shining brown waves. Soldier could not help noticing that her bodice was laced in a criss-cross fashion. My dear, said Caezor, these men are hungry. I have invited them to share our meal. Quite right, husband, came the reply. Hospitality is the first rule of our household. Soldier stepped forward. But you are hurt, my lady. Your shoulder ... She shrugged her dress over the wound. It is nothing. Please do not concern yourself, sir. I caught it on a rose briar. A rose briar? What was she doing near a rose briar in this weather? He stepped closer and then stopped dead. The young lady! She had on a velvet choker with a silver plate. He could not read the words from where he stood but Soldier knew what they said. Touch me not, for Caezors I am. He felt guilty and upset for what he had done to the hind, but he was also alarmed at the magic in this household. If he had wounded the woman as a hind, what was she doing running over the countryside? Where had she been when they came across her in the copse? Sit at the table, ordered their host, while I carve you some pieces of this ox. Cresside, will you fetch some bread from the kitchen? Bring also some cooked vegetables and of course some jugs of malmsey and mead. See if you can warm the malmsey before pouring into the drinking vessels: hot malmsey is so much more satisfying on a cold day, dont you think? I do - I do indeed, husband. Cresside left them and went into the kitchen. Your your wife, said Soldier, coughing a little in embarrassment. Shes hurt. The lord of the house looked after his wife and nodded. Ah, yes, poor lady. She went out riding this morning and returned with that wound. She says a briar, but I suspect some dwarf poachers shot her by accident. She will protect these creatures. I shall deal with them in due course. They deserve to be hung from the old oak, but I suspect my anger will have cooled somewhat before I have them in my grasp, and I predict they shall get away with a mere whipping. But do not concern yourselves with my affairs! Please! Feast yourselves! Do not stand on ceremony. Soldier coughed again, feeling awkward. I - we - that is, we were hunting too, you know. The gods forbid, but I hope it was not one of our stray arrows . . . The alchemist shook his head emphatically, his black beard swishing on his chest. No, no, no. I think not. But we might have ... Gaezor seemed to be getting angry. I said you did not, sir. Please do not argue with me over my own lady. I know what happened. I am informed. Im sorry, replied Soldier. I dont mean to upset you or doubt your word. I would just hate to be sitting here at your table when Im responsible for an injury. It would be better to get it out of the way, to beg your forgiveness and that of your lady, and to have my apologies accepted, before indulging in the fare you offer . . . but, it seemed that the alchemist was getting angry again, if we were not responsible, then of course there is no need to go into this any further. Quite, quite. Ah, heres the bread and wine. His voice was back to being cheerful and hearty again. And some good green vegetables I managed to freeze in my icehouse. This will turn you back into a lusty young man again. And me? inquired Spagg. And you into a whatever you were before you became a frozen corpse, laughed the alchemist. Eat, eat, both of you. And drink your fill. Let us praise the gods that I found you before you both fell and died from exposure. Later I will show you the room where I make gold out of pig lead. You will be amazed, sirs, I guarantee. Its a process I brought back with me from far eastern shores, from twin cities called Sadon and Targe, situated on the two nesses of the great Aegisonian rivers of Ellprates and Isgan. There are only two people in the world who know the secret the Thag of Isgan and myself. But I am stopping you eating. Please. Pick up your forks. Let us hear your story while we dine.