'Sell ninety-nine of them.'
'A man after my own heart,' murmured Torquil, but somehow it did not fill the air with the freshness of a compliment. Ergo decided to ignore it.
'I only want one,' Titch repeated, so sadly that Ergo decided not to trouble the boy further. Instead he lowered his attention and questions out.
'A foolish wish. And you, Rell. What would you wish for? A one-eyed beauty to make your mate? A trident of pure gold? Or perhaps a small kingdom of your own?'
The single eye managed to match Ergo's two. 'Ignorance.'
Ergo was ready with a reply, hesitated, thought better of it, and subsided. They walked on in silence.
It seemed that the mist had dispersed a little when they made the sharp turn to the right. Afterward no one could say exactly what happened. The ground sank from under their feet without any warning.
One moment all were striding confidently along and the next, half the party found themselves struggling in thick soup that clutched powerfully at their legs.
'Quicksand!' Kegan roared even as he threw himself backward and searched for a solidly anchored handhold.
Those who remained on firm ground rushed to aid the trapped. Even Ynyr lent a hand, though the seer could only stand out of the way and give moral support. Ergo, Titch and Ynyr linked hands, the old man clinging to a gnarled tree trunk, Ergo reaching out over the muck to extend a hand to Oswyn. They soon had him extricated.
Bardolph was caught close to several low-hanging trees and Torquil was able to pull him free without help. The thief slid clear of the danger easily. He was breathing hard as he stood and felt of himself. Suddenly his eyes dropped to his waist and then glanced sharply toward the false trail that had nearly claimed him.
'My dagger!' He moved into the fringe of the quicksand, his boots sinking up to the ankles as he hunted with his eyes.
'Bardolph, leave it go!'
''Tis gold-plated and the hilt of three-quarters precious, finely worked and honed by Anast the Elder, Torquil.'
'Yes. I've seen it and I know it's your pride, man, but consider what—'
Bardolph didn't hear him, but let out an excited exclamation as he spotted a faint gleam disappearing in the sand. 'There it is!' He dove for the flash of light, spread-eagling himself as he leaped.
'Idiot!' Torquil extended himself into the quicksand and managed to keep his footing as Bardolph flailed about until he triumphantly held the dagger aloft. This time the bandit leader had to work twice as hard to free his follower from the pit. Bardolph emerged covered with grime but the dagger glowed in the dim light.
'Beautiful,' Bardolph said reverently as he began to clean the blade. 'I couldn't let it go.'
'Not as beautiful as a life,' Torquil growled at him. He nodded toward the blade. 'The world is full of daggers. Too many, I sometimes think. Perhaps it would be a safer place if all were forbidden to own them.'
'Don't be a fool, Torquil. Daggers do no harm. That lies only in the hearts of those who wield them.'
'Perhaps. Next time you would do well to let this one go.'
'Nay, there are none so beautiful as this one. I sometimes feel sorry for the noble I stole it from.' He slipped the shining blade back into its sheath.
'It'll end up killing you someday.' Bardolph only grinned at his leader.
Meanwhile Colwyn had rescued the dour Kegan, and the cyclops had easily freed Rhun. All stood safe again on firm ground.
But Colwyn was not satisfied. 'Something's wrong,' he muttered as he watched Rhun thanking the giant. He studied the little band. Surely they were still one short? Wouldn't Torquil notice an absence? But the bandit chief was arguing with Bardolph over something.
Then the face returned to him and a name to match it. He looked carefully at the fringe of the quicksand pit, at the places concealed by overhanging bushes and roots.
'Menno!' he shouted, spotting a waving hand.
The unfortunate thief had swallowed more than one mouthful of quicksand, which had prevented him from shouting for help. Colwyn unhesitatingly splashed toward him, slowing only when his own legs began to vanish into the muck. The quicksand was especially treacherous and he could feel himself sliding into the bottomless ooze even as he flattened himself on the slick surface and extended his right hand. Menno's flailing fingers barely managed to lock with Colwyn's own.
The cyclops used Rhun and Oswyn as anchors while they in turn clung to Ergo and Torquil. With his retreat assured, he reached out and took Colwyn's left hand in an unbreakable grip-But Menno had found the center of the quicksand pool and no matter how hard Colwyn pulled, the thief continued to sink. His eyes bugged wide as he strained to reach Colwyn with his other hand, but already his shoulders had slipped beneath the surface.
The veins stood out on Colwyn's neck as he strained with the effort of maintaining his hold. 'Hang on, Menno!'
They were the last words the poor man heard. His fingers slipped free of Colwyn's. With a faint hissing sound he vanished beneath the surface. There weren't even any bubbles to mark his grave.
The cyclops had to use all his great strength to pull Colwyn clear of a like death. Every eye and hand was bent to the rescue effort.
So no one saw the visitor who approached the seer from behind. He was of similar height and dimensions. In fact, he was identical to the wise man in every respect save one. When he blinked, there was a definite crimson flash from his eyes.
The seer sensed the presence. 'Is that you, Titch?'
The newcomer extended a hand and rested it gently on the nape of the seer's neck. 'It is I, brother. Rest now.'
The fingers clenched. The muscles that drove them were more than human. There was no compassion in that grasp, only efficiency. The seer let out a single, whispery gasp and then he was dead. No one saw the changeling slide the tired old body into the swamp. The Wyn-nah-Mabrug claimed another secret.
With a grunt the cyclops finally yanked Colwyn clear, stood him on shore.
'My thanks, friend.' Colwyn's gaze returned to the place where Menno had vanished. The surface was once more calm and deceptive.
'No one could have saved him,' Rell murmured.
'I had his hand. I had it in mine,' Colwyn muttered. 'I lost him.'
'The swamp took him from you. Nobody lost him,' said Torquil. 'Menno would have been first to agree. Not twenty men could have pulled him clear, as deeply as he'd sunk. He'd found the center of the pit.'
'The earth has a strong grip,'Ynyr commented. 'When it wants someone badly enough there is nothing any mortal can do.'
Colwyn considered as he stared at the hand that had so recently held that of a living man, a companion. Then he put the memory behind him. 'We still have not gained what we came here for.' He glanced toward the smallest member o his army. 'Titch, how far to the temple?'
'Not far now,' the boy assured him quietly. He looked to the seer for confirmation, but the seer appeared absorbed in a study of the swamp.
'Oswyn, stay here and make sure we're not being followed.'
The thief looked uneasy. 'I acknowledge you as king, Colwyn, but this is no royal court.'
Torquil took a step toward him, fingering the hilt of his sword. 'Are you so recently escaped from an early death that you're already anxious to tempt it again?'
'Easy,' said a deep voice, interrupting. The cyclops looked down at Colwyn. 'I will stay behind. I am used to solitude. Working alone will not trouble me.'
'All right,' Colwyn agreed, seeing the logic of the giant's words. Oswyn breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Colwyn moved to stand close to the seer. 'I'll lead the seer. Titch, you take the lead.'
'Thank you, brother,' said the changeling in the seer's voice. He reached a hand toward Colwyn's shoulder.
It did not reach its goal. Torquil stepped between them. 'I'll lead the old man, Colwyn. You go out in front with the boy.'
