was forced to conclude, that might not last more than another day or two. The darkness, the silence, the stench of the place surrounded him.
But when he finally slept, he dreamed of a golden-haired dwarf maid. He smiled at her, rather than scowling, and once again, he felt her nimble fingers working to release his bonds.
Gus wandered through a field of glorious, colorful vegetables. He picked and ate them as he strolled, but he never seemed to get full. He came to a stream, and a fish jumped right into his hands. It was so delicious, he halted on the bank and waited for another one, which jumped out of the water two seconds later. Everywhere he looked, he saw food, a natural banquet practically begging to be eaten-by him!
And he did his best. He rooted around on the ground, pulling up carrots, chomping contentedly on the orange crispness. He saw other vegetables hanging off trees, and though they hung on branches high above the ground, when he approached, the limbs of the trees dipped low and he plucked and ate the bounty of the forest. When he was finished eating, for a little while at least, he ran through the meadow, and nobody chased him.
Life had never been better. He was warm, happy, well fed, safe…
Until he heard the ominous, rumbling growl. The sound was deep, obviously made by a very large creature, deep and menacing.
“Kondike?” he called, looking through the trees, across the nearby meadow. But there was no sign of the big dog.
The Aghar spun through a full circle, but all he saw was the meadow, the meandering stream. He saw no dog, no threat.
But when the growl sounded again, the surrounding trees seemed to move in closer, loom higher and darker. Soon they towered over his head, casting him in chilly shade. He flinched and looked up at the sky, suddenly remembering the creature that was stalking him.
But the sky, though dark and gray, was empty of fearsome creatures, or even birds.
The third time he heard the growl, it was right beside him, and he awakened.
Heart pounding, he realized he was in a dark room, and in a flash he remembered Hillhome. Gretchen was in another room, but Kondike was right beside him and growling fiercely at something.
Gus squealed in terror and burrowed under the blanket that had somehow gotten all twisted and tangled while he was sleeping. Even as he dived for cover, his face popped out the other end. He put his hands over his eyes to hide himself, daring to split his fingers slightly and look around.
The big dog stood beside the bed, facing the door, growling deep within his barrel chest. That augured danger, but Gus quickly thought of someone else who he ought to protect.
Gretchan! He sprang out of bed-or would have if he weren’t entangled by the unaccustomed luxury of a blanket, which tripped him onto his face. As soon as he scrambled to his feet, he raced to the door and pushed it open. Kondike knocked him aside, the big dog lunging into the hallway, still growling. Nothing was in the hallway. Teeth bared, Kondike moved to stand stiff legged outside of the neighboring room.
Gus heard sounds in the dwarf maid’s room. His hand was trembling, his knees knocking together, but he reached for the latch, ready to open the door.
“Wait! Stop!” hissed Gretchan, intentionally keeping her voice low. Poleaxe had overpowered her physically; she had to use her wits to save herself.
“I’ve been waiting all night while you cavorted around Hillhome. How dare you tell me you’re going to bed and then leave! You’re a teasing, lying wench, you are!”
She was astounded at the sheer animosity, the malevolence, betrayed in the big dwarf’s voice. She struggled in growing panic, trying to reach the small hammer she wore at her belt. She gasped at Poleaxe’s strength as, with one hand, he pinned both of hers over her head. His other hand reached for the buckle of her belt and snapped it free. The belt, with her only weapon attached to it, tumbled to the floor.
“Let’s talk this over!” she urged, trying not to panic. “Let me go!”
“We did enough talking to about wear out my tonsils,” growled the hill dwarf. “I’m ready for some different fun.” He grasped her breast, roughly squeezing, laughing at her struggles.
“Ouch-you’re hurting me!” she protested.
“Well, don’t resist me, then,” he replied, taunting. “I’ll be gentle if you will.”
Then the door to the room burst open, and Kondike was there, a snarling missile tipped with sharp, white teeth smashing into Poleaxe, knocking him right off the bed and onto the floor. Dog and dwarf rolled across the tiny room, smashing into the table, twisting and grappling on the worn rug. Gus came charging in right after the dog, grabbing one of the Neidar’s feet-Harn had removed his boots already-and biting him on the big toe.
“Ouch, damn you!” snapped the hill dwarf, trying to kick at the gully dwarf while he held the dog’s head at bay. Despite the feet that flailed at him, Gus held on tenaciously, even as his little body was thumped and kicked against the wall.
Breathing hard, Gretchan scrambled to her feet. Poleaxe lay on his back, grunting curses as, with both hands, he held Kondike’s head away from his face. The dog was snarling viciously as Gus bit down a second time, and again the hill dwarf howled in pain. The struggling Neidar bashed into the wall of the small room and rolled back across the floor, nearly knocking Gretchan over. She stepped back, looking for an opening, as Kondike pressed in, snapping his jaws, his teeth just inches from the hill dwarf’s nose.
Where was her belt? There-she spotted it as the combatants rolled around on the floor. Gretchan reached down and snatched up the hammer that was suspended by a little sling. It was a small tool, light and silvery, but its looks were deceiving. She brought it down heavily against Poleaxe’s skull, and with another grunt, the hill dwarf collapsed limply.
“All right, boys, thanks,” she said, gently touching her big dog’s shoulder. Kondike relaxed slightly, allowing her to ease him off the dwarf’s still form. “You can stop biting him now,” she told Gus, who was leaving bloody teeth marks on a third toe.
“What this bluphsplunging doofar do?” demanded the gully dwarf, removing Poleaxe’s foot from his mouth but holding it close enough that he could resume his attack at a moment’s notice. Kondike, hackles up, growled at the unconscious hill dwarf.
“He was waiting for me; he attacked me,” Gretchan said, feeling a queasy sickness as the full reality of the awful situation sank in. “I don’t know what would have happened if the two of you hadn’t rushed in to help. Thank you, again.”
“He not dead yet. Want me kill him?” suggested Gus with a little too much enthusiasm for the dwarf maid’s comfort. She regarded the motionless hill dwarf with revulsion, but killing him was not even a remote possibility; it would have been a betrayal of everything she stood for: decency, honor, civilized behavior. Perhaps she ought to have him arrested, but then, thinking of her encounter with the Kayolin prisoner, who had professed his innocence yet was stuck in jail, she didn’t have much faith in the local justice.
“No, we can’t-we won’t,” she said immediately. She looked around the bare room, at her backpack-it had tumbled open somehow, scattering her few possessions-and suddenly knew they had to get out of that place. Hillhome had proved inhospitable.
“We’re going to leave,” she announced. “Tonight. After I go talk to one more person.”
She quickly gathered up her possessions and strapped them into her pack. Kondike and Gus hurried to keep up as she left the inn at a trot and made her way to the shadowy street where Garrin Hammerstrike had pointed to the oracle’s hut. A few minutes later, she stood in the darkness of an overhanging barn roof, studying her objective. The house of the Mother Oracle was obvious: it stood at the end of the narrow lane, dilapidated and dark. There were no other houses, barns, or other structures nearby.
“You two wait here,” she ordered sternly, worrying more about disobedience from the gully dwarf than from the dog.
Her staff in her hand, she started down the street. She strained for some sensory suggestion-sight or sound, smell, or even something on a more subconscious level-that would help her prepare to enter the small house. She felt nothing at all, and that fact disturbed her deeply. It was as if some kind of protective screen surrounded the house, like the building itself was prepared to resist her.
She approached the battered, shabby front door and she felt the resistance more directly. It took an extra effort of will to take the last two steps to bring her up to the portal. Gretchan, always confident and serene in the face of danger, felt a surprising unease and hesitated to touch the door. Uncertain whether she would knock or just push it open, she started and gasped when she her a sharp voice from within.
