“Not now,” Hermo muttered, stepping away.
“Anybody else care to speak for the human?” the bartender asked.
The room was quiet.
“Who wants fresh human on the menu?” the bartender asked.
Uproarious cheering greeted the proposition. All eyes were on Seth now, and Hermo was edging away, looking miserable. Seth realized he was on his own.
Searching inside himself, Seth found the cold and darkness Ronodin had taught him to seek, then reached out with his ability to the candles and torches in the room and started dousing them. Startled trolls gasped and murmured, and a moment later the room sank into near-perfect blackness. A sudden chill pierced the air.
“Spellcraft,” a voice accused.
“Witchery,” another cried.
“I’m no slave,” Seth challenged loudly.
“Shadow charmer!” a voice exclaimed.
“Last week I was doing errands for the Underking,” Seth said. “Today I’m on business of my own. Take care, you never know what unseen beings are within the call of a shadow charmer. I overthrew Wyrmroost in a day. Maybe I’ll let your tavern stand for a while if somebody can answer my questions.”
A troll with a face like a bulldog covered in snakeskin lit a torch. “He’s all right,” the troll said. “It’s the one that killed Graulas. Tornick, today he eats on my tab.”
More candles and torches were lit, and trolls started turning back to their own conversations. Seth had failed to inspire much awe, but he seemed to have dodged disaster.
“You still want rabbit stew for the little one?” the bartender asked.
“Are you Tornick?” Seth asked.
The bartender gave a little bow. “What’s your business here?”
“I’m looking for Humbuggle,” Seth said.
Tornick hawked, spat on the counter, and started wiping it with a grimy rag. “Might be less trouble to let us eat you.”
“Shadow charmers taste horrible,” Seth said.
Tornick shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it. What about the stew? You have an open tab.”
“Thanks,” Seth said. “Some stew would be great.”
“What will you have?” the bartender asked. “Still hungry for rat tallow?”
“Do you have any human food?” Seth asked.
Tornick patted the counter as if imitating a drumroll. “We have bread and cheese.”
“I’ll take it,” Seth said. Then he hesitated. “Is it possum cheese or something?”
“We have several varieties,” Tornick said. “The kind I had in mind for you is made with cow’s milk.”
“Sounds all right,” Seth said.
Hermo sidled up to Seth as Tornick moved away.
“Your stew is coming,” Seth said.
“Good slave,” Hermo said.
“No problem,” Seth said. “But I’m not your slave.” He felt something brush his ankle and glanced down to find Calvin climbing his pant leg. Seth subtly put a hand down and lifted the nipsie to his shoulder.
“You want Dante,” Calvin whispered loud enough for Seth to hear.
“Who is that?” Seth asked.
“A troll in a secret back room,” Calvin said. “He has been watching you through peepholes. The other trolls whisper his name with reverence.”
“Good job,” Seth said.
“They call me Tiny Hero for a reason,” Calvin said. “Don’t forget to ask about Serena.”
“I won’t,” Seth promised.
“Me almost got to try slave soup,” Hermo said.
“Nobody cooks me without a fight,” Seth muttered. He regarded the bustling room, dozens of trolls engaged in conspiratorial conversations, more than a few gazes straying his way. “Is this place all you dreamed?”
“It not bad,” Hermo said. “Me know more when stew comes.”
Tornick returned with half a loaf of bread and a big hunk of white cheese for Seth and a steaming bowl of chunky stew for Hermo. The hermit troll had to kneel on his stool to be tall enough for the counter.
“I need to talk to Dante,” Seth mumbled softly.
“What are you going on about?” Tornick asked, matching his quiet tone.
“Dante,” Seth repeated. “I need to see Dante.”
“Never heard of the guy,” Tornick whispered.
“Don’t play dumb,” Seth said. “Everybody knows Dante.”
“Oh, that Dante,” Tornick acknowledged. “I hear you. The briar troll. He hasn’t been seen around these parts in a good while.”
“He’s in the back room,” Seth said. “He’ll be glad he saw me.”
Tornick couldn’t hide his surprise. “You’re determined to get yourself into hot water.”
“It’s where I swim,” Seth whispered boldly. “Go tell Dante the shadow charmer wants to have words with him. Or find somebody who can.”
Tornick shrugged. “Your funeral.”
Seth cut a slice of bread and put cheese on it. The bread was a little stale, but the cheese tasted quite good. A simple meal, but tasty, and different from what he had eaten in the leviathan. Seth chewed slowly, hoping it made him look casual about the surrounding danger.
Hermo finished his stew by tipping the bowl against his lips and licking the interior clean, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Me like this place.”
Seth popped a little piece of cheese into his mouth without any bread. “It’s growing on me.”
Two trolls wearing long coats approached Seth from behind, one on each side, squeezing in close. They matched each other, tall and muscular, with silvery scales and curled horns like a ram’s. One leaned in closer than the other, staying in profile as he studied Seth through a narrow eye on the side of his head.
“Alley trolls,” Hermo mumbled, leaping one stool farther away.
“Folks who nose around here tend to have accidents,” the beefy troll said.
“I want to see Dante,” Seth said.
“He doesn’t know you,” the troll replied. “He wonders how you know him.”
“He has a reputation,” Seth said.
“Why should he talk to a stinking human?”
Seth forced himself to put some bread in his mouth. He hoped to look relaxed as he gave his answer. “I want his advice before I tear this sanctuary apart.”
He chewed as the trolls on either side of him exchanged uncertain glances. “Dante doesn’t like strangers.”
“Look, if you can’t take me to him, go find a troll who can,” Seth said.
The trolls shared another glance. “Very well,” the spokesman said. “Let’s see how long you last.”
I’m coming with you,” Knox insisted. Outside the window of the elevated room, smoke and
