stood. As they passed the ruins, Garth glanced down and noticed something pale in the wreckage. He looked more closely and saw that it was a statue. It had once been a human being, Garth knew; the Baron had used him as a test subject for the basilisk's legendary power. The overman suddenly no longer regretted killing the Baron, whatever the repercussions might be.
The street that ran behind the destroyed manor had been the town's filthiest alleyway, dark and forbidding; now, though, the destruction of the surrounding buildings had let in fresh air and firelight, so that it was no longer much worse than any other debris-strewn byway. Its most outstanding feature was the presence of an unburnt building, the King's Inn.
The three overpeople and two humans picked their way through the gloom, past broken stones and fallen timbers that littered their path, while Koros padded silently along a few paces behind, following its master.
Galt remarked, 'It's curious that this tavern should have survived unscathed, so close to the square.'
'It is more curious than you know,' Garth said. 'It alone, of all the buildings in Skelleth, withstood the power of the sword when I tried to set it ablaze.'
'I think that you and I, Garth, both suspect why this is,' Saram remarked.
'Tell me, then,' Galt said. 'Or is this some great secret that you two share?'
'No, hardly that,' Garth replied. 'This inn is the home of the Forgotten King, the wizard I first came to Skelleth to find. He seems to be capable of many amazing things; saving his home from the flames is simply the latest example of his power.'
'From what I know of the old man,' Saram added, 'he could probably have saved the entire village, but preferred not to take the trouble.'
Galt snorted in derision. 'If this man is such a mighty wizard, what is he doing in a pesthole like Skelleth?'
'That's one of the mysteries about him,' Saram answered.
They had reached the door of the tavern; it was closed, despite the relatively warm weather, the only sign that there was anything out of the ordinary. The broad front window was clean and unbroken, the half- timbered walls clean and smooth, with no sign of smoke or soot anywhere.
Saram opened the door and led the party inside; Koros, at a word from Garth, waited in the alleyway.
CHAPTER TEN
The interior of the tavern was crowded with people, all human. As the three overpeople entered a sudden quiet spread before them. Three dozen pairs of eyes watched them intently. In the silence earth could hear the sound of a knife sliding from its sheath.
Saram muttered, 'I think you had better say something.'
'People of Skelleth!' earth said, 'We have come in peace. The battle is over. We mean you no harm; we have come here to drink and to talk, nothing more.'
The silence and tension remained; the crowd still watched.
'Innkeeper,' Galt called, 'five mugs of your best ale!' He sauntered into the room, found an empty chair, and seated himself. The table he had chosen was occupied by two grubby, middle-aged men in stained tunics. 'I hope you don't mind if we join you,' he said casually, 'but there don't appear to be any vacant tables.'
One of the men muttered a vague reply; the other sat and stared.
Galt waved to earth and the others. 'Come and sit downy'
Hesitantly earth obeyed, taking the remaining empty chair at the table. Kyrith followed, and stood awkwardly for a moment until Saram brought her a chair from a neighboring table.
'Uh...we were just going,' one of the villagers said. He rose and backed cautiously away. His companion sat and stared.
Saram escorted Frima into the vacated place, then tapped the lingering human on the shoulder. 'Excuse me, friend, but would you mind moving to another table?'
The man looked up, startled. 'Hah? Oh...no, no, of course not.' He got awkwardly to his feet and followed his companion, backing away from the table and finding an empty chair elsewhere.
Saram seated himself and remarked, 'That's better.' He raised an arm and called, 'Innkeeper, where's that ale?'
Galt remarked, 'Garth, you really don't know much about dealing with humans. You don't want to make speeches to a crowd like this; just convince them that you belong. Actions are far more convincing than words.'
'A truth I had forgotten momentarily,' Saram agreed.
The other patrons were beginning to lose interest and turn away. The innkeeper was approaching with a tray bearing ale. Garth glanced around the room, realized the crisis was over, and allowed himself to relax. He also noted in passing that the Forgotten King was at his customary table, as if nothing had happened.
'Now, Garth,' Galt said, 'we would like to hear your explanation for your behavior.'
'One moment.' The ale had arrived, and Garth downed his in a few quick gulps. He handed back the empty mug and said, 'Keep refilling this until I tell you to stop.'
The innkeeper nodded. 'Yes, my lord.'
The other four were not hasty in their drinking; the man departed with earth's mug while they sipped their ale.
'Where shall I begin?' earth asked.
'Wherever you please,' Galt replied.
'At the beginning,' Saram said.
Kyrith nodded in agreement.
'What beginning?' earth asked.
'We thought your behavior odd when you first ventured south from the Northern Waste,' Galt replied. 'Why not begin by explaining how that came to pass?'
'I am not certain where the beginning of that was,' Garth said. 'Last winter, I suppose, though I cannot name a date; it seemed to grow gradually.'
'Start with that,' Galt told him.
'Very well. You all know how the winters in our lands can wear on one-save perhaps Frima, who is not from these northern realms. The shortness of the days, the paleness of the light, the cold, the snow, the ice-all oppress the mind and the senses. This past winter seemed to affect me more than usual, though it was not an especially harsh one. I found myself depressed and bored; each day I told myself that it would pass, but each day I seemed to sink further into gloom. I could think of nothing but death and despair, and the futility of our lives, struggling to live in the Waste, able to do little more than survive. Every event seemed to contribute to my melancholy; when the hundred and forty-fourth anniversary of my birth arrived, all I could think of was that I must now be more than halfway to my death. It seemed that I had done nothing of any importance in that half of my life. I had won a few inconsequential battles with pirates and raiders, I had fathered a few children, and I had spoken in the City Council on such matters as rebuilding wharves and buying arms. The pirates and raiders survived and will doubtlessly return; my children will grow old and die; my speeches will be forgotten. What was worse, I saw no prospect of anything better in the future. I would grow old and die without ever having done anything to make a mark upon the world. In a century or two, no one would remember that I had ever existed. I did not want that to come about, but I could think of no way to avoid it.'
'No one looks forward to death,' Galt said.
Garth glanced in the direction of the Forgotten King, but did not deny Galt's statement. Instead, he said, 'I know, I know, it is the way of things. I was not satisfied with that, however, and resolved to change it, if it could be changed. I went to the Wise Women of Ordunin and asked, first, whether there was anything I could do that would alter this way of things, some act of cosmic significance I could perform that would change the nature of life. They told me that was beyond the power of mortals. I had expected that. I then asked if there was any way that I could be remembered forever, so that, if I had to die, at least my memory might survive.'
