"I'll take my chances," said the maga, returning to her book.

"Your chances!" exploded Boлndal. "Do you mean we've been traveling all this way with a creature of darkness?"

"That's not what I said. Besides, I don't recall there being anything in the creed of Samusin to forbid it."

"Samusin? I won't have any truck with him." The dwarf's face hardened and he rose to his feet, the long shaft of his crow's beak clasped in one hand. "Tell me what's behind the visor."

"That does it!" Andфkai closed her book with a snap. "Nфd'onn himself could be hiding inside that armor and I wouldn't tell you! Djerun is with me." If anyone had been wondering how Andфkai the Tempestuous had earned her name, the matter was now resolved. "Who cares if he's an ogre or a dark spirit or Tion knows what? He's the perfect traveling companion and he doesn't stink like a pig-which is more than can be said for you and your brother!" Her blue eyes glinted menacingly as she swept the long blond hair from her face. "He'll raise his visor when he's good and ready, and if you don't like it, too bad!" She pointed toward the main village. "Did you notice the bathhouse on your way in? I recommend you pay it a visit. It's a wonder the birds don't die of asphyxiation when you're around."

She fixed him with an icy stare and opened the second volume with a thud.

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of someone running toward the tent. The next moment, Boпndil burst through the door.

"Pointy-ears!" he spluttered. "Pointy-ears from Вlandur! The trader said they-" He noticed the keg of beer abandoned forlornly on the floor. "I thought you'd be thirsty!" he said, shaking his head in surprise. He pierced the lid with his ax, filled his tankard, emptied it in a single draft, and burped. "Not bad," he pronounced, helping himself to more.

"You were saying?" Andфkai reminded him sharply, diverting his attention away from the beer.

"Er, elves!" Boпndil sat down on a leather stool. "I bought the keg from a trader who told me what's been happening in Вlandur. He thought we'd be drinking to the ruin of the elves. From what he said, their kingdom is all but done for. He reckoned they were scouting Girdlegard for new places to live."

"In Sangpыr?" the maga said incredulously. "Why come this far south when there's nothing but sand, dust, and stone? It doesn't make sense. What would an elf want with a treeless desert?"

Tungdil glanced at Boлndal, who was clearly thinking on similar lines.

It took another sip of beer before his brother caught on. "Are you saying they're дlfar?" he ventured finally. Ideas invariably took longer to penetrate Boпndil's mind.

"Nфd'onn wants the books," Tungdil explained patiently. "A motley company like us doesn't go unnoticed. They must have followed us here and waited until nightfall to enter the settlement. As soon as it's dark, you can't see their eyes and there's no way of telling they're not elves."

"In which case, they could be either," Boлndal pointed out. "I say we post a watch. If they're дlfar, they'll be after us. Why else would they be staying in the village, if not to steal the books? From now on, none of us leaves the tent, no matter what. We'll let them come to us."

"Nonsense, we'll go after them!" Boпndil said fiercely. "If they're дlfar, we'll kill them, and if they're elves… we'll kill them too! The pointy-ears deserve to die." It had been a while since he'd last used his axes.

Andфkai listened, then signaled to Djerun and settled down to sleep.

"No, brother," ruled Boлndal, "we'll leave them in peace. The whole village could turn against us if we start a fight. We're not in our own kingdom yet, remember. Cool your temper. I'll take the first watch."

Tungdil yawned and finished his tankard of beer before lying down on a pile of rugs. His fingers clutched the haft of his ax, making him feel a little less exposed. He wasn't sure what to think, but in some ways he was hoping that the дlfar would attack. At least that would persuade Andфkai of the importance of the books.

Tungdil was just dozing off when a shouted warning woke the desert oasis. The dwarves, were on their feet in a flash, weapons at the ready. Andфkai had drawn her sword and was monitoring the tent flap and the walls.

Ax raised and shield held in front of him, Djerun knelt by the entrance, blocking it like a wall. His helmet glinted, the demonic visor coming alive in the dying firelight. For a fraction of a heartbeat, Tungdil thought he glimpsed a purple glow behind the eyeholes.

Boлndal damped the flames lest their shadows be seen through the canvas. The three dwarves stood back-to-back, the maga beside them.

For a few moments it was quiet; then agonized screams rent the air. Now sounds could be heard from the other tents as people emerged from their flimsy shelters, their voices mingling in a clamor of questions as each tried to establish the cause of the noise. Willowy silhouettes and strange shadows flitted across the canvas walls, while all around there was a clunking of metal as shields knocked against tent poles, armor was donned, and weapons were unsheathed. Roused abruptly from its slumber, the village among the dunes was preparing to fight.

"What's going on?" asked Tungdil in a whisper. "Do you think it's a trap?"

Just then a human voice cried out in terror, "Orcs!" Swords met in a ringing din. The battle had commenced.

The beasts stopped skulking through the settlement and abandoned all pretense at stealth. Listening to their grunts and snarls, Tungdil was reminded of Goodwater, of Ionandar, of those who had died…

He was torn between staying in the tent and running to the aid of the people outside. His instinct was to help, but for all he knew, the дlfar were out there, waiting for him and his companions to emerge.

"What do we do?" he asked the battle-hardened twins.

"We wait," came Boлndal's strained reply. He tightened his grip on his crow's beak.

The clash of swords was getting louder and more violent, mingled with the screams of dying men. Sounds of fighting echoed from every corner of the village. The orcs had evidently surrounded the settlement and were attacking from all sides simultaneously, making it impossible for anyone to escape.

As the fighting raged around them, Tungdil and the others followed the progress of the battle on the walls of their tent, men and orcs locked in combat like figures in a shadow theater.

Boпndil held a whispered conference with his brother. At last a decision was reached. "We need to get out of here," he announced. "The runts will sack the settlement and we can't risk Tungdil getting-"

An orc burst through the tent flap, grunting and waving his sword. He ran full tilt into the expanse of unforgiving metal that was Djerun's shield.

Nose gushing with blood, he staggered groggily to the side, only for the giant to hew his collarbone with a downward swipe of his ax. The force of the blow cleaved armor and bones, slicing the ore diagonally in two. Blood and guts spilled from the body in a horrible, reeking mess.

"Hey! I thought I told you to leave the runts to me," protested Boпndil. "The next one's mine, all right?"

A second orc stormed into the tent, and Andфkai called out to Djerun, who swung his shield obediently to the side. The beast ran on unhindered, failing to notice his fallen comrade or the colossal warrior.

"That's more like it!" Boпndil rushed forward and stopped the beast without ado. Felled by his axes, the ore died with a final grunt.

"No more tomfoolery, Boпndil," his brother said sternly. He cut a slit in the rear of the tent and peered through the gap. "All clear." The sharp blade of his crow's beak tore neatly through the canvas and he slipped outside. When he was sure it was safe, he signaled for the others to follow.