Balendilнn seized his hand thankfully. Gandogar had spoken from the heart and his heroic intervention was evidence enough of his sincerity. "Something must have startled the cattle," he said.

He didn't elaborate further. He wasn't prepared to blame Bislipur and Sverd for engineering the "accident" until he had firm proof. The gnome's appearance on the scene had convinced him that Bislipur was behind his attempted murder; Sverd always acted on his master's command.

"I owe you my life," he said earnestly. "It doesn't mean I think you're right about the elves, but I'm deeply indebted to you all the same."

"Spoken like a true dwarf," the king said warmly. "Besides, I didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done for me."

"Oh really?" Balendilнn paused and smiled. "I'm not sure I would have helped."

Gandogar looked at him, shocked. "I…"

"How could I have rescued you with only one hand?" Balendilнn burst out laughing and, after a short silence, Gandogar joined in. It saddened the counselor that the fourthling monarch was so determined to go to war; he had a feeling that Gandogar would make an excellent king.

Later, when Balendilнn regained his chamber, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the whole episode had been a trap. The delegates who supposedly wanted to see him were an invention.

At least his purse and his buckle had been deposited by his door. The gnome must have thought better of harboring evidence of his despicable crime. Balendilнn replaced the purse, fastened his belt, and vowed not to give his would-be murderers another chance. Kingdom of Sangpыr, Girdlegard, Early Autumn, 6234th Solar Cycle Autumn left the travelers in no doubt that it was a force to be reckoned with, particularly at night. Even though they were deep in the south of Girdlegard, having crossed the border into Queen Umilante's realm, there was little warmth to be found in the desert, only a constant barrage of tiny grains of sand.

No sooner had darkness drawn in and the sun sunk below the horizon than the air took on a nasty chill. Andфkai wasted no time in lighting a blazing fire, in spite of the twins' disapproval. To Boлndal's mind, the comfort it provided was outweighed by the risk of attracting orcs and other riffraff; it seemed foolish to court danger when they had come so far and were almost at their goal. Somewhat begrudgingly, Boпndil agreed with him. But the maga ignored them anyway and persisted in tossing logs into the flames.

They were only eight or so orbits from Ogre's Death when they came to a village among the dunes. The settlement was situated next to a tranquil lake, which made it a popular and flourishing trading post. Tungdil and the others decided to grant themselves the luxury of a night's shelter.

For merchants returning home from the secondling kingdom, the village was a last oasis before the long journey through Sangpыr, where nothing awaited them but desolate wasteland and the occasional brigand.

"It's safe here," Boлndal assured them. "The traders like dwarves because they know we offer decent, solid wares that fetch good prices when they sell them in other towns."

The party still attracted considerable attention, but only, as Tungdil realized, because they were accompanied by a walking tionium tower. Children crowded round them, marveling at Djerun, who bore the fuss with equanimity. The giant was accustomed to causing a stir.

Visitors to the settlement were accommodated in tents by the lake. Depending on the needs of each party, the canvas and wood constructions could be expanded or reduced in size, with the option of adding an extra floor to create a two-story dwelling not dissimilar to a house.

Djerun was too tall for a standard model, so they opted for a two-story tent and removed the upper floorboards. The wind was freshening, so they retreated under the canvas, lit a fire in the corner, and got the kettle boiling.

"Just think," Tungdil said excitedly, sipping his steaming mug of tea, "I'm about to meet my folk. I can hardly wait!"

"I'm not surprised," Boлndal agreed, smiling at him warmly. "And the others will be pleased to meet you too. The delegates will be dying of impatience."

"Ugh!" his brother interrupted. "Why would anyone drink this stuff? I'm off to find some beer. There aren't any sensible buildings in this village, but they're bound to sell something that tastes better than tea!" He got up and left.

"So tell me, Tungdil," said Andфkai, who had been poring over the books, "what makes you special enough to merit a royal escort?" Gorйn's letter rested on her knee. It was the first time she had taken any interest in why the twins had been sent to find Tungdil.

He hesitated. "What does it matter?" he said disdainfully. "The Estimable Maga is abandoning Girdlegard. I don't see why she needs to know."

Andфkai broke off her study, taken aback by Tungdil's harsh tone. "Dear me, I've incurred your eternal displeasure, have 1? I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you're wasting your breath it you think you can stop me by appealing to my conscience."

Boлndal glanced at Tungdil, eyebrows raised.

As far as Tungdil was concerned, the maga had no right to give up on her homeland so easily. She wasn't the only one who stood to lose by staying in Girdlegard. In spite of his excitement at being reunited with his folk, he knew that his chances of survival were slim, unless of course there was something in the books that could help them vanquish Nфd'onn. But unlike the maga, he was determined to fight beside his kinsmen to the end.

Rain pattered against the canvas. Fat droplets left meandering tracks on the outside of the tent and pitted the dusty ground. Autumn showers were nothing unusual in Sangpыr's deserts. In most other places, the wet and dry weather would have been ideal for agriculture, but the soil was impossibly barren in these parts. Trees and plants rarely took root and were tended jealously by their owners.

Just then the tent flap swung open and a cloaked intruder appeared in their midst.

Like a statue conjured to life, Djerun leaped into action. His left gauntlet closed around his two-hander; then he raised the sword with both hands, dropped into a half crouch, lunged forward, and brought the blade whistling toward the stranger's throat.

"Stop!" the maga commanded. Djerun froze.

"Forgive me," stammered the man. "I didn't mean to startle you. I was told to deliver this." Hands trembling, he deposited the keg of beer and fled, worried that the giant would change his mind and cut him down regardless.

"Good work," Boлndal said admiringly. "I wouldn't have thought it possible that a man could move so fast wearing all that armor."

Djerun returned to his former position, cross-legged on the floor. Boлndal's comment failed to elicit a response from the giant or his mistress.

The secondling persevered. "The warrior is your business," he told Andфkai, "but our sentries won't let him cross the High Pass unless he's prepared to show his face and declare his lineage."

"What kind of foolishness is this?" the maga said irritably, weary of the constant interruptions. "We'll be leaving Girdlegard! What does it matter what he looks like or where he comes from? You'd be well advised to focus on your defenses, instead of interfering in the business of travelers who can't wait to leave your land."

"Whether you're coming or going is of no concern to us," Boлndal said emphatically. "No beast of Tion will set foot on our pass."

"Hang on," Tungdil told him, "he's just an elongated-"

Boлndal didn't let him finish. "I played along to keep the peace, but we're almost home now." He looked at Andфkai grimly. "When we reach the Blue Range, the giant will be bound by the same laws as everyone else. You're welcome to seek your own route through the mountains, but you won't be crossing our kingdom if you're hiding something dangerous behind that mask."