cursing. It was a great gamble that the king took, for a late-winter blizzard could roar up from the south and wipe out the whole force.
Kradok seemed to smile on his chosen people, though, for the skies stayed clear and starry, the winds light. Like a great, furred snake, the column of the marching army moved onto the ice, bearing for the opposite shore, and the ancient realm known as Brackenrock.
19
Though Thraid Dimmarkull Ber Bane put on an admirable show of grief in public, the widowed ogress left no doubt during her private moments with Grimwar Bane that she was very thankful indeed that Winterheim had a new ruler.
It was only Grimwar’s fear of mortal consequences-not so much from his priestess wife but from her connection with Gonnas the Mighty, the Willful One-that caused the new king to exercise some discretion in his dalliance with his father’s widow.
“She is expecting me for an augury session,” he explained apologetically to Thraid, while his new mistress, beautifully, elegantly recumbent upon her huge, fur-covered bed, pouted coyly. The king looked into those deep, limpid eyes and fought surrender. With a sigh he reached out to wrestle his foot down into his tall boot.
“You have slaves for that sort of thing,” Thraid suggested with a gesture, deliberately allowing the fur blanket to droop seductively off her shoulder. “Even the minor nobles don’t have to put on their own boots.”
“Yes, well …” The king grunted in irritation.
They had been over this topic more than once. At this point, only six weeks after the death of his father, Grimwar was taking no chances. He intended to keep the affair secret even from the most insignificant slaves who, it seemed, were almost always underfoot. Why did he have to repeat his explanations, every time the two of them stole an hour or two of privacy?
Grunting from the uncharacteristic exertion-it was not as easy to bend double as he thought it used to be- Grimwar reached for the other boot, his mood souring fast. When he was done wooing Thraid, he only wanted to be away from her, to get out of her chambers without being seen-at least by anyone who might report his activities to Stariz. Throwing his cloak over his shoulders, he leaned over the massive bed for a farewell kiss, but the voluptuous Thraid was sulking and had turned her back to him.
He muttered his goodbyes and slipped out of her sleeping chamber. The great hall was empty. He turned down a back corridor leading to the king’s study, where he had ostensibly been poring over mining reports, after having left strict orders not to be disturbed.
“Spring will come early this year-soon, before you are prepared for its challenges,” Stariz said, studying the knucklebones she had tossed in a large golden bowl.
“Pah! Spring comes, and the snow melts. Same thing every year. How is one prepared or not?” Grimwar retorted skeptically.
Stariz glared at him with an expression that insinuated he was rather a slow-witted child and she was working very hard to pass on her wisdom.
“Perhaps … perhaps our god means to tell you-” Strariz spoke painfully slow-“that when the spring comes, you should be prepared to
“To do what?” demanded the king impatiently.
The queen set her jaw in a tusk-baring scowl. “Well, that would be up to you, presumably, but we must keep our eyes open, our minds ready for signs of the god’s will. Just last night I had a new dream-”
A knock interrupted the scrying session, and Grimwar raised his head, relieved.
“What is it?” he demanded, in a tone perhaps gruff enough that his joy at being interrupted would not be noted by Stariz.
“Sire, my deepest apologies for the interruption.” It was Lord Hakkan, pushing the door open slightly but not stepping into the room.
The king waved away the apology. “What is it?”
“There is a messenger come to Winterheim. He wishes to speak with you.”
“A messenger? Here? He has journeyed through the Sturmfrost?” Grimwar Bane asked in amazement, even as he welcomed the diversion. Stariz had been about to begin what would surely be a painstakingly detailed interpretation of one of her dreams, and that was reason enough for him to see the visitor.
“Who is it?” the king asked.
“It is … well, it is a thanoi, Sire,” Hakkan said with obvious distaste. “He is waiting in the harbor well.”
“The harbor will be fine,” Grimwar said. He could just imagine how the ice cart, not to mention the air in the royal apartments, would smell if the fish-eating visitor was brought into the upper reaches.
“I’m coming with you!” declared Stariz, immediately rising and hurrying after him.
“This is a king’s matter,” Grimwar protested, as Hakkan tactfully withdrew, closing the door behind him.
“No!” Stariz said heatedly. “Don’t you see-this is the sign from Gonnas. The thanoi has come to show you the will of the god!”
Urgas Thanoi was as wrinkled and fishy smelling as Grimwar Bane remembered. Yet the king tried to overlook those unpleasant features, for in this crude and tusked brute, he had an ally.
“The Arktos survivors have come to your citadel?” Grimwar asked in disbelief.
“Yes, a small tribe of women. They attacked my fortress, and we defeated them, drove them away with much killing.”
“Of course.” Grimwar wondered how “much killing” the walrus-men had accomplished. After all, their chief had come here, plodding a hundred miles through deep snows, to seek the aid of the ogres in dealing with the hated humans.
Grimwar was not displeased. Indeed, the tusker’s news might provide the key to his wife’s nagging and prophecies.
“Human women, do you hear that?” he asked Stariz, baring his tusks in a grin of pleasure.
“An elf-did they have an elf with them?” she asked anxiously, speaking bluntly and directly to Urgas.
“No, my Lady Queen. None was present in the group that attacked my castle.”
“He must be there. He
“It is indeed possible.” Urgas was hasty to agree. His piggish eyes tightened as he appeared to concentrate his thoughts. “My spies reported to me the presence of a strange watercraft, unlike either the kayaks of the Arktos or the great galley of Your Most Noble Highness. This boat arrived after the battle. It may be that the elf was borne in that.”
“Yes. Most certainly, that is the elf’s boat,” the queen said, leaning back and glaring triumphantly at Grimwar Bane.
“Well, of course!” snapped the ogre monarch. “I never disputed your auguries! The boat makes sense. After all, elves cannot fly!”
“What are you going to do? Remember the augury-spring will come early! You must be prepared to act!”
Grimwar snorted. “Of course I will act, when it’s possible to do something! We can march to the citadel. I can take my whole army there, over land, down the Fenriz Glacier! And I will do so. We will enslave the humans, and exterminate this rumored elf. But ogres are not thanoi-we cannot march through snow for a week, and expect to reach the end of the journey with any hope of fighting a decent battle. So I will indeed act in spring! The snowmelt is months away!”
“When the Willful One demands action, he who would honor his god must act!”
“How?” demanded the king hotly. “By taking a thousand ogre warriors out where they will freeze to death?”
