'But not your sword arm or your wits, I'd wager,' Colwyn replied.
'I've no love for the kingdom of Turold. Its jails are neither better nor worse than those of any other country,' the bandit growled. 'Yet I must admit to having spent good times in its towns.'
'There will be no more good times in any towns because there will be no towns nor even kingdoms in a few years unless we do away with the Slayers and their master,' Colwyn declared firmly.
'Aye, so you say. So many claim. I am not certain I believe that yet, but I believe the rest. King Turold's son is named Colwyn.'
'That is my name.'
'And you would have us in your service? We hardly have the look of a royal guard.' Guffaws came from his companions.
'It is not looks I need,' Colwyn told him somberly. 'Join me and help me, and you will all have a full pardon and whatever else it is in my power to grant.' He reached down with the key. To his surprise, Torquil waved him off.
'Nay. If we succeed, unlock them. Otherwise, I will die with them.' He smiled. 'These cursed wristlets have already turned more than one sword stroke. Unlike young Oswyn there, I've developed a certain affection for them.' He jangled the broken chains, then reached up and accepted the key to pass it to the man standing on his right. 'Kegan here feels differently than I do, however.'
'That I do, Torquil,' said the man, rushing to unlock the manacles. Other men emerged from concealment, eager to make use of the key. 'I harbor no fond memories of my iron,' he told the man on horseback.
'Colwyn will suffice, Kegan. There are no kings on this journey. Only fighters.'
'Rather a fighter defending my back than a king any day,' said Kegan. 'No offense, m'lor—Colwyn.'
Colwyn formed an immediate liking for the man and wondered what terrible circumstance had forced so pleasant a fellow to follow so grim a path. Perhaps he would find out, though such men tended to guard their pasts as zealously as they did their gold.
'Nine like you are worth an army,' he said as he inspected each of them in turn. 'Soldiers spend too much time on secure, peaceful walls, too much time dreaming away easy nights in comfortable barracks. Each day you do battle with life itself. Soldiers have time to forget what their profession is all about. Like anything else, it is a trade that must be practiced to be perfected.'
'Practice we've had aplenty,' Torquil told him. He turned to his men. 'You heard him, you smelly lot. It's official. We are now an army.' There sounded a loud squeal and he looked down at his ankles. The piglet was easily swept up in the vagabond's arms.
'Well, well, our dinner comes to join us tonight. A fortunate meeting indeed.' The pig squealed louder and squirmed in Torquil's grasp.
Colwyn peered closely at the porcine prisoner. 'Don't be too quick to set a place. I think that's Ergo the Magnificent.'
'Looks more like roast pork to me, though a mite skimpy. I certainly wouldn't call it magnificent.' He prodded one ham.
The pig twisted violently. Torquil let out an exaggerated sigh. 'Ah well. Shame. He's your companion, and I've yet to eat a friend, or even a friend of a friend.'
'Look on the ground nearby. You'll probably find a scrap of paper with a formula written on it.'
Obediently, Torquil bent to scan the damp earth, still cradling the unhappy porker. Perhaps they would be lucky and there would be no such paper. He was hungry. Ah, but there it was. He picked it up and scanned the writing. The words and symbols meant nothing to him, but in his grasp the pig squirmed excitedly. He held it before the questing snout.
Then he was holding a white cloud that was part pig and part unhappy traveler. The cloud disappeared with a sharp pop and he found himself grasping a small man by the back of his shirt.
'Put me down, you lout! I can still turn you into a pig!'
'Yes, your demonstration of your powers has been most convincing,' Torquil said wryly.
'With hot fudge sauce, Ergo?' Colwyn inquired. Ergo eyed him sourly but said nothing as Torquil let him go. He tried to straighten his shirt and dignity, both of which were badly ruffled.
'You had better manners as a pig,' Torquil told him, 'and it's plain to see you're still something of a ham.' He looked up at Colwyn. 'Of what use to you in your quest is this midget?'
'Now look here, you hirsute oaf, I—'
'Peace, Ergo,' said Colwyn tiredly. 'And you, Torquil. Every man has his talents to contribute.' Ergo accepted that and managed to calm himself. 'We will need all the help we can muster. Now we must go, now that everyone has been properly introduced.' He chucked his reins and started off down the path. Torquil and his men followed.
Only Ergo, still miffed, hung back, shouting after them. 'Ergo the Magnificent does not travel with thieves and cutthroats! I am no companion of bandits and murderers! I do not lie down to sleep alongside pickpockets and wife-beaters!'
The fog swirled in around him, already masking Colwyn's party. Shapes began to form in the fog, unworthy of notice when traveling with companions but suddenly sharp and demanding now that he stood by himself.
One of the gray nebulosities blinked; a single, one-eyed blink. Ergo gaped at it but it did not vanish.
'Except when necessary,' he muttered to himself as he scurried after the others with admirable speed.
Several days of uneventful travel brought them to a hillside overlooking a devastated valley. Once it had been a picture of villatic contentment. Now it was a panorama out of hell.
Smoke rose not from cook pots and comforting fireplaces but from half a dozen burning towns. The wails of the distraught and the screams of injured men and dying animals rose from the smoking vale. Colwyn was glad they were not close enough to see any more than they could from the hillside. Silently the men resumed their trek along the crest of the heavily wooded ridge.
'Why do they burn the villages?' Torquil asked grimly as he marched alongside Colwyn. His gaze kept returning to the ruined valley. 'There's nothing to gain. They never carry off booty or even food.'
'They do it to keep us down,' Ynyr explained. 'Men who must concern themselves with rebuilding homes and replanting crops have no time to think of other things, no time for philosophy or science, learning or art. They force a lowly existence upon Krull.'
'But why?'
Ynyr gave a little shrug. 'Their intent is clear if not their ultimate motives. Perhaps they find it amusing to torment us. Perhaps they have other reasons.' Torquil felt the old man wasn't telling all he knew, but the thief did not know how to pry the information out of him.
'You say there's nothing to gain,' Colwyn told him. 'You're wrong. There's fear to gain. You don't have to burn every village to control all. Raze one to the ground and the neighboring dozen may acknowledge your rule. Burn one valley and you might control a kingdom. They acquire such fear with fire. They spend it to rule.'
'So do many human kings.'
'But not all.'
'No, not all.' Torquil grinned. King or not, this Colwyn of Turold was a likable chap. With the right kind of upbringing he might even have made a proper thief. Torquil could bestow no higher praise on a friend.
Ergo had been listening closely to this conversation as he shuffled along behind the horses. His eyes had widened as the import of the conversation became clear.
'Is he a… a king?'
The tall ruffian striding along next to him, one Bardolph by name, nodded once. 'Colwyn of Turold, or so Torquil believes. Heir to the combined kingdom of Turold and Eirig.' He shook his head in disbelief at the circumstances that had overtaken him. 'From fugitive to king's service in one morning. I never thought to see such a day. I must say it's nice to be able to walk about freely in the daylight once again.'
Ergo cared little for Bardolph's musings, full as he was now of his own fearful misgivings. 'Oh dear, oh my. Oh no. I threatened to turn him into a toad. He might have done anything. He might have ordered my head chopped off.'
Bardolph instantly assumed a somber mien. 'As a matter of fact, I seem to recall some conversation to that point, friend. Yes, I remember distinctly now. He and Torquil were chatting and he reflected upon that very business.'
