“Or the treasure would be lost,” Seth said.
“My knowledge makes it absurd for anyone to cross me,” Dante said.
“Anyone who cares about the treasure,” Seth corrected.
“Which includes any self-respecting troll,” Dante said. “And anyone else with common sense.” He held up the hand with the ring, fingers splayed. “I carry several such tokens, making me invaluable. Many a troll hopes I pass on some of my secrets before I go. Perhaps I will. Perhaps I won’t.”
“Asking for knowledge can be a big deal,” Seth said, trying to skip to the conclusion.
“That depends on the information you seek,” Dante said. The briar troll lifted a small, ivory container from a stand beside his chair, flipped open the oval lid, and sniffed the contents. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he sagged in his chair, then closed the lid and replaced the container on the stand. “If you ask me what to order from the tavern, I lose little by suggesting a menu item. Then again, I don’t like to waste my time with trivialities.”
“You want to know my question,” Seth said.
“I’d rather learn how I benefit from answering,” Dante said.
“I have information too,” Seth said.
The briar troll nodded. “I suppose you do. The question is whether you know anything that might prove valuable to me.”
“I wonder the same thing,” Seth said.
“As is your right,” Dante said, “though you sought me out.” He gestured to a nearby chair. “Have a seat.”
Seth sensed an element of ritual to the invitation, as if the door to negotiation had been opened. He sat down on the edge of the chair and studied Dante by the flickering light of the fire, waiting for him to speak.
“Why chance a visit to Troll Tavern?” Dante asked.
“The hermit troll recommended it as a good place for information,” Seth said.
“You understand that hermit trolls are rabble?” Dante asked. “Almost vermin?”
“I like him,” Seth said, offended on Hermo’s behalf. He was better company than the unfriendly, self-important trolls he had met at the tavern.
“I suppose anyone deserves their pets,” Dante said offhandedly. “It was dangerous to come. Trolls are not gentle creatures.”
“I really need information,” Seth said.
Dante stretched lazily. “And what stops me from throttling you for trespassing here unannounced?”
“Do trolls waste resources?” Seth asked. “Do you know many shadow charmers?”
“A valid argument,” Dante said. “And the chief reason you remain alive. It was a good spectacle, dousing the torches. You made the others wonder what else you could do, how you might harm them or help them.”
“You saw that?” Seth asked.
“I am aware of what transpires in my tavern,” Dante said. “Tell me why you came to Titan Valley.”
“Will you keep my secret?” Seth asked.
“Why should I?”
“If you want to hear it,” Seth said.
Dante produced a coin and rolled it across his knuckles, first one way, then the other. “I accept that condition.”
“Can a troll be trusted to keep his word?” Seth asked.
Dante’s feet slapped to the floor and he leaned forward. “Are you baiting me?”
“I’m new to trolls,” Seth said.
“To dishonor one’s word is instant bankruptcy.”
“You promise to keep my business here a secret?” Seth asked.
“Done,” Dante said, settling back in his chair. “Proceed.”
Seth knew through Ronodin that most magical creatures were much truer to their word than mortals, so he decided to risk confiding in Dante. “I lost my memory. I’m here to regain it.”
“Why here?”
“Humbuggle took my identity.”
Dante nodded as if the information added up. “Where? How?”
“At Wyrmroost. Inside Stormguard Castle.”
“You disturbed his game there,” Dante said.
“Yes.”
“And you discovered he returned to his former home.”
“I’m here to find him and get my memories back,” Seth said.
Dante shrugged. “Your motivations may differ from the pack somewhat, but in essence you came here for the same reason most outsiders come—Humbuggle and his Games.”
“He has games here?” Seth asked.
Dante gave him a disbelieving look. “You have never heard of the Titan Games?”
“Who knows?” Seth said. “I lost my memories.”
This seemed to satisfy the briar troll. “Humbuggle established the Games centuries ago. Competitors vie for the chance to compete in the Titan Games, with the Wizenstone as the grand prize.”
“This is common knowledge?” Seth asked.
“It is no secret,” Dante said.
“I don’t care about the Games,” Seth said. “I just want my memory back.”
Dante grinned. “How do you expect to convince Humbuggle to grant your request?”
“I haven’t gotten to that part yet,” Seth said. “First I have to find him.”
“You understand that you are talking about perhaps the most elusive and powerful demon in the world?” Dante asked. “The greatest warriors and adventurers have been trying to thwart Humbuggle for millennia. He has the Wizenstone under his control. He is notoriously clever.”
“Do you know how I can find him?” Seth asked.
“There is only one sure way to get close to Humbuggle,” Dante said. “Participate in his Games, and, ideally, win.”
“Where do I enter?” Seth asked. “How do I win?”
“I am often asked for advice about the Games,” Dante said. “Competitors always seek an advantage. The Games are complex. There is more to them than greets the eye. And there is a reason they have been going on for centuries without a victor.”
“I’ll win the Games if that’s what it takes,” Seth said.
Dante gave a nod. “You’re clearly willing to risk your life, or you would not be inside this tavern.”
“I need my memories,” Seth said.
“If I lost my memories, I would want them returned,” Dante said. “But if I had lost them to Humbuggle? I would be tempted to leave them behind and start making new ones. My free advice ends there.”
“What about help I earn?” Seth asked.
“If it benefits me, sure, I could offer extra assistance,” Dante said. “There are those who advise prospective competitors in the Games. Some could reveal valuable secrets. Help with the Games is a common request. Why should I take yours seriously?”
“What can I do for you?” Seth asked.
“Do you have riches to offer?” Dante asked.
“None,” Seth said. “At least not that I
