background of the prophecy at this stage. You’ll find out in good time, you virtually have an eternity in your hands— in the literal and the figurative sense. The only important thing at this moment is the Horn; everything else is secondary.”
“Master Goblin!” Egrassa called to Glo-Glo. “Have you rested?”
“I’m coming!” the shaman replied. “Resting’s all very well, but now I won’t be able to work any magic more complicated than a fireball for a week. Harold, do I need to tell you there’s no need to spread the word about our conversation?”
“No, you don’t.”
“Well then, that’s just wonderful. Now help an old man get up. Creating that damned spell of mine has swallowed up all my strength.”
I gave the goblin my hand and helped him get to his feet.
“Thank you, my boy. I’ll go and have a word with the elf and your marshal with the mustache.”
Glo-Glo plodded off toward the warriors, who were waiting for him impatiently. I was about to follow him, but Kli-Kli called to me.
“Hey, Harold!”
“Yes?”
“Are you really not angry with me? You know, for … You know what I mean.”
I paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, and she kept her cautious glance fixed on me all the time.
“I’m really not angry, Kli-Kli,” I said eventually. “It’s impossible to stay angry with you for long.”
Did I imagine it, or did I catch a glimpse of relief in her eyes?
“Wordofonner?”
“On the noble word of honor of a master thief, Kli-Kli.”
“Okie-dokie!” she said, more cheerful now. “Only don’t tell anyone, or they’ll all start worrying about me. Trying to take care of me, make sure nothing happens to me. Deler’s worse than a broody hen, if he found out the truth.…”
My lips curved into an impish smile as I imagined Deler’s face when he learned that Kli-Kli was not he, but she. And Hallas would probably be so surprised, he’d swallow his own beard. Kli-Kli obviously read my thoughts, and she gave me a good-natured poke in the ribs. Life is never boring when there’s a goblin around—boy or girl.
The rain didn’t stop until the next morning. In that time we’d tramped darkness only knows how far and built up a pretty good lead over any possible pursuit. At least we hadn’t heard the rumbling of the orcs’ drums again. We stopped to rest for the night beside some huge boulders that gave us some protection against the rain. The halt was appallingly brief. I felt as if I’d only just closed my eyes, and there was Lamplighter shaking me awake.
Milord Alistan finally deigned to notice that I had no more weapons than a nun of Silna. Mumr immediately presented me with his dagger, and Deler attempted to give me the small ax that always hung behind his back, with his shield, but I refused. That’s not my weapon.
“Can you handle a battle staff, Harold?” Egrassa asked unexpectedly.
“No,” I said, rather surprised by the question. “A walking staff, maybe, but only a little bit.”
“It’s all the same. In that case, you’ll be able to manage the spear.” The elf handed me the Gray One’s krasta. “The s’kash and the bow are enough for me, but this will suit you better. At least you can hold your enemies off for a while.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking the weapon.
“Only, if you’re going to swing it, don’t forget that one end’s weighted. I wouldn’t like to see it go flying out of your hands at just the wrong moment,” Egrassa warned me, and after that the question of the weapon never came up again.
With the gray vampire’s legacy in my hands, I felt more confident. And the chain mail that had been left in Mumr’s safekeeping while I took my trip round Hrad Spein inspired me with some hope, too. We had to eat on the march, whatever the gods provided. And that day the gods weren’t very well disposed toward us, or you could say my stomach was never anywhere near full. Kli-Kli ambled along up at the front, behind Glo-Glo, and I kept catching myself thinking I couldn’t get used to the idea that the goblin was really a gobliness.
The group was in fairly high spirits, which was understandable enough—the orcs didn’t seem to be planning to chase us. In his joy, Hallas even started crooning “The Song of the Crazy Miners.”
“Well, well,” Deler muttered good-naturedly after listening to the song all the way through. “Lucky’s started his crowing again.”
“You’re just envious because your race doesn’t have any songs like that, even in the Zam-da-Mort,” Hallas chuckled in anticipation of an old familiar quarrel.
“You can find all sorts of things in the Castle of Death, and you know that perfectly well,” the dwarf said, avoiding an argument with the gnome.
“So I’ve heard,” said Hallas, suddenly serious, and he didn’t sing any more songs.
By lunchtime the sun peeped out, which made the walking much more pleasant. Glo-Glo suddenly started veering farther and farther left, and the stream that had been our companion for so long was left behind among the trees. Now we were not walking south, but west. Milord Alistan seemed rather unhappy with this circumstance, and Glo-Glo had to explain that there was an orc city nearby, and we had to make a detour. Unless, of course, we wanted to enjoy the hospitality of the Firstborn.
After trudging a fair distance through the forest undergrowth, by evening we were back beside our old friend, the stream, and while it was still light, we reached a dense grove of fir trees that held the stream tight in its
