depends on one strength.”
“I can vouch for him. He knows which end of a sword goes inand which you hold,” Malowan said with a sudden grin, “even if he’s not muchbetter than that with them.”
Vlandar nodded. “I trust Mal, and I’ve heard of you, Nemis.But why did you change your mind? Mal said-”
The mage shrugged. “Malowan hadn’t told me you were ridingagainst the Steading, against the giants. If you do, you’ll need me.”
“Oh? Why?” the warrior returned sharply.
“I have battled giants before. I know spells that workagainst them. I’m good at what I do.”
Before Vlandar could reply, Malowan tapped him on the arm and drew him into the far corner of the barracks room, where they talked quietly but intensely for some moments.
When they came back, Vlandar held out his hands, palm up. Nemis placed his hands on the warrior’s, palm down.
“Mal’s word is good for me, Nemis, but if there’s anythingyou’d like to tell me before we leave Cryllor, I would appreciate it. An oldwarrior like me doesn’t appreciate surprises, you know.” He turned to Malowan.“Will we need another magician for healing spells, or can you manage that?”
“Malowan and I have worked together before,” the mage saidquietly, “and I will procure a few specialized charms before we leave.”
“Find whatever you need. The king and the Lord Mebree aregood for it. We’ll leave here as soon as we can. Stay nearby, or let me knowwhere you’ll be tomorrow and the day after. If there’s any special gear or othersupplies you need, let me know.”
The mage merely shook his head, turned, and left.
Over the next two days, Lhors watched in fascinated silenceas Vlandar interviewed a number of would-be giant-slayers and heroes. Malowan was sometimes there but was often acting as go-between with the lord’s steward.The paladin went back and forth-sometimes hourly as yet another list ofnecessary supplies was worked up.
Most of the time, Malowan’s young companion was elsewhere,much to the relief of Lhors. Agya teased or mocked him incessantly when Malowan wasn’t around. He still found it hard to believe when the girl admitted tofourteen years, but Malowan assured him she was at least that old. Even cleaned up and clad more like a girl, she still looked no more than a skinny ten or so to his eyes. Probably she had found her size and shape useful. Lhors couldn’timagine a girl thief surviving long in the bad parts of the city.
Vlandar and Malowan both were willing to explain to an untutored villager why they chose one applicant over another. A noble who had proven sword-skill and an impressive background against local road thieves was turned down.
“Hobric can’t get beyond the fact he’s noble, so he feels hemust be in charge, even if he hasn’t the skills of a leader,” Vlandar told Lhorsafter the man had stormed out of the barracks. “Also, he goes nowhere withouthis personal servant. The creature’s said to be part orc and nowhere near sowell trained as
“It has eaten men,” Malowan said with distaste, “and it isnot a servant. It is a slave, and even though it is a dreadful creature, no one should have the right to enslave another. If Hobric and that brute go with Vlandar, I do not.”
“What is this?” Vlandar asked suddenly.
Two reed-slender young women clad in rusty browns and greens had entered just as Hobric stormed out. One clutched an unstrung longbow, while the other wore a bundle of short throwing spears over her right shoulder.
“Rangers,” Vlandar murmured to Lhors.
The youth nodded, his eyes wide. Not just rangers by the look of them, but identical twins. As they came across the small room, he could see long, neat, very pointed ears rising from their thick dark hair. One of the women had her hair bundled back into a long plait, and her sister confined hers with a leather thong. Both wore small silver hair-brooches shaped like an oak and thistle above their right ears.
Try as he might, Lhors could only tell them apart by the hair and the different pattern of brown-on-brown checkered shirts they both wore over plain trousers that were almost baggy enough to be taken for skirts. Two pairs of incredible, slightly slanted, green eyes met his curiously, then moved on.
“Warrior, I am Rowan,” the bow wielder said in a low, huskyvoice, “and this is my sister, Maera. We hear you’re hoping to teach theSteading a lesson.”
The other spoke in a slightly reedier voice. “We’re rangers,as you’ve no doubt guessed already. I am told you knew our father, Anaerich ofKet?”
“I met Anaerich some years ago.” Vlandar half-stood so hecould bow. “I wasn’t aware he was Kettish-or that there were elves or half-elvesin Ket.”
“There aren’t many,” Maera said. “Our father left Ket longyears ago.”
Rowan smiled faintly. “We want to help if you’re going afterthe Steading. What those overgrown brutes did to our forest last spring is appalling. We’ve certain useful skills beyond tracking and woodcraft.”
“Such as?” asked Vlandar.
“We will demonstrate, if you wish,” Rowan replied with a mischievous smile.Motioning the others to follow, she and her sister strode back into the yard.
Lhors accompanied Vlandar and watched in fascination as Rowan strung her bow and slipped an arrow to the string. Lhors had scarcely looked up to the target on the far wall before Maera’s javelin quivered squarely in thecenter of the tiny white patch. Rowan laughed, pulled the nocked arrow to her cheek, and loosed in one swift motion. Her arrow quivered in the center of the javelin’s haft.
“We’ve been rangers for twenty-four years,” Maera explained.“We know how to work with a team, warrior.”
“Say no more,” Vlandar said, grinning widely. “A man would bea fool to turn down rangers. We’ll leave as soon as we can, so stay in touch. Ifyou have any particular needs as far as gear or supplies, let Malowan here know. He’ll see you get whatever you need.”
“Elves?” Lhors asked after the twins had gone.
Vlandar nodded. “Half-elven, but any elf blood means you’rean elf. And rangers… a thief like young Agya can move unnoted around a cityor a slum, but those two could make her look clumsy. We’ll be fortunate to havethem.” He grinned as Lhors nodded with enthusiasm. “For their talents, boy.They’re
Lhors blushed.
They both turned toward the door as someone yelled, “Getyourself out of my way, wench! I have business in here!”
Lhors heard Rowan snarl something that left a foppish young man red-faced and sputtering. The rangers bowed sarcastically, then left as the man stomped into the barracks and stared around with visible distaste.
“Mercy on us,” Vlandar said to Lhors mildly, but his lipstwitched. “It’s a hero.”
“He looks like one,” Lhors replied, eyes wide as he studiedthe fellow.
“I am Arkon,” the newcomer announced loudly. His voice wasconsiderably deeper than it had been when he had yelled at the rangers. He wore silk-a brilliantly red shirt with bloused sleeves and sleek black trouserstucked into knee-high boots. Black leather gauntlets covered his arms halfway to the elbow. The pommels of his daggers and the basket hilts of his matched swords were gold-washed, as were the daggers thrust into his belt and his boots. “Arkonthe Adamant is here to seek one Vlandar, who has need of my ser-” His voicecracked.
Vlandar bent down to adjust one of his boots and hide a grin, but a splutter of laughter escaped Malowan. The young man snarled a particularly filthy curse and whipped both swords out, revealing wavy
Vlandar sighed heavily and got up to intercept him. “I amVlandar,” he said as he began to ease the young man back outside, “and captainof these barracks. This is no place to provoke a fight.”
Malowan suddenly and quietly slipped onto the cot next to Lhors. “Aaaaugh,” the paladin mumbled. “It was too much to hope the young foolwouldn’t have heard about this.”
