relegate to the future. He had begun to wonder if perhaps he might be rushing things a little too much by speaking to her immediately after the ceremony of Autumnblight, only five days away. There would be plenty of good opportunities as the season waned toward the end of the sunny days in which he could break the news to the queen, informing her that her royal presence was no longer required.
Of course, he would see to it that she had a chance to make a life for herself. Probably he would send her back to Glacierheim. Her father was baron there and in his dotage, but the king would send along a gift-a generous gift-of gold, and count on that to soothe any injured diplomatic feelings. He had two things in his favor: Glacierheim was a long distance away; and the baron’s army was barely a tenth of the size of King Grimwar’s, should it come to that.
Though they did raise some ferocious warriors in Glacierheim, the ogre monarch reminded himself with a shiver. He remembered one particular brute who had come to Winterheim with Stariz a decade before. That fellow, Karyl Drago, was the largest ogre Grimwar Bane had ever seen, strong enough to break the necks of any two normal warriors in a fair fight. Drago had been a strange contrast, brutal in battle yet reduced to a happy sigh by the sight of a little golden mirror or some trinket made from the precious yellow metal. He had actually caused some problems with his uncouth behavior. Fortunately, they had found a post for him some place very much out of the way. At least, the king consoled himself, they couldn’t have too many brutes of Karyl Drago’s size, not in Glacierheim or anywhere else.
He emerged from his bath feeling much refreshed and was pleased when he went into the great room to find that though Stariz had returned, she had waited for him to come out instead of trying to barge in and disturb his reverie. She did have a matter that she wanted to discuss, and his mood was pleasant enough that he was happy to indulge her.
“Do you remember we discussed the slaves in the Nobles’ Market?” she asked him.
“Of course. Did you learn anything?”
“I believe so,” Stariz replied. “That is, the will of Gonnas was revealed to me. After I meditated upon the vision, I could discern what our immortal god in his wisdom was trying to tell me.”
“These rebels? Where can we find them?” Grimwar pressed.
“I think you will find them in the warehouse where the salt is stored. There are many men working there, and I think the proper course of action is to have all of them arrested and killed. It might be hard to sort out the rebels from the ordinary folk, but bad apples spoil the barrel, you know.”
The king stroked his chin. Like so many of Stariz’s tactics, this one seemed drastic. On the other hand, if she had this problem to distract her, that would take her attention away from the king, Thraid Dimmarkull, and the Highlander slave.
“Interesting thought,” he declared, putting on an air of great contemplation. “Of course you would perform these executions at the ceremony of Autumnblight.”
“Hmmm. I had not carried out my planning to that level of detail, but yes, that would make perfect sense. As always when dealing with sedition, our ideas are in concert, my king. These enemies of the state can be drawn and quartered in different sections of the hall so that everyone can get a good view. The slave king can be gutted at the climax of the festival!”
“Yes, that would make a nice climax,” agreed the king, as he began to think about his dinner. What would the chef be making tonight, he wondered. “It shall be done. I will give the order myself.”
“Good. They can be taken soon, then?”
“I will send a whole company of grenadiers, my queen. They will be taken like fish caught in a strainer net.”
Stariz stood and smiled at him almost tenderly. “Excellent decisiveness, my lord. That is what makes you such a splendid king.”
For once, Grimwar Bane agreed with his wife.
Stariz summoned her spy after her husband had retired for the night, and as usual he wasted no time in arriving at her secret door. Garnet Dane’s eyes flickered nervously as she invited him to enter her chambers, even offering him the unprecedented courtesy of a glass of warqat. She was almost giddy and enjoyed the nervousness tinged with excitement that she saw reflected in her human slave’s eyes.
“You wonder why I have summoned you here so late, do you not?” she said.
“Yes, Your Majesty, I do,” he confessed, “though I should be eager to answer your call, no matter what the time or the cause.”
“That is what I thought. Tell me, how sharp is your knife?” she asked him bluntly.
Garnet Dane’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate to answer. “In your service, it is a razor, my queen.”
“Splendid,” she said. “It is time for you to use it.”
He leaned close, his thin lips creasing into a smile as she outlined her orders.
“Whalebone!”
Strongwind heard the snap of Thraid’s fingers as she summoned him into the great room where she indolently lay as usual upon her divan. It was late morning, but she had slept late on this day, as was also usual.
“I need you to make a trip to the market for me, but there is no hurry.”
“As you wish, my lady,” he said. “Am I to fetch anything in particular?”
“Yes … make it a lamb, this time.” She fished several gold coins out of a purse. “Do not come back until this evening.”
“Of course, mistress,” he replied.
Strongwind was delighted at the timing of the request and relieved to get away from the voluptuous ogress for a few hours. Her attentions to him had been unnerving. She had insisted that he help her with her bath, an experience leaving memories that would require gallons of warqat to wash away.
Now he had important news about the connection between Thraid Dimmarkull’s apartment and the royal palace and was eager to report his discovery to the nascent rebel group. He went immediately to the market and made his way to the window at the salt alcove. Black Mike was at the counter, and when he saw the Highlander approaching he quickly called for a replacement, then moved sideways to open the door so that Strongwind could join him in the evaporation room.
As before, they made their way through the aisles of stacked salt into the storage room in the back. The slave king noticed other men throughout the room setting their tasks aside and gradually, casually converging on the room.
A few minutes later the band had gathered, perhaps twice as many men as the dozen Strongwind had seen on his first meeting here. The group circled close, regarding him with interest as Black Mike folded his arms and waited.
“Well, did you learn anything?”
“Yes. The king did come to visit the Lady Thraid. There were guards-the King’s Grenadiers-outside her apartment, and they wouldn’t let me pass.” Some measure of modesty caused Strongwind not to mention the disheveled appearance of the ogress when later he had returned to the apartments.
He was about to describe his search for the secret door when one of the men at the back of the throng held up his hand and whispered urgently, “Hsst! be silent!”
They all heard the thump of heavy boots. There were cries of consternation from the market, screams of frightened humans mingled with harsh ogre commands. Something heavy crashed to the floor outside of the room, and guttural roars bellowed above a growing din of panic.
“Out the back!” declared Black Mike. “Move!”
Strongwind was carried by the throng, as the men surged toward the shadowy nether reaches of the room. The Highlander could make out a door there and saw one slave pull it open.
In the next instant a spear darted into the opening, striking the man in the chest and erupting from his back in a shower of gore. Gasping, he tumbled back into the room, kicking weakly, dying very slowly.
There was light beyond the doorway, but that illumination only served to outline the shape of a hulking ogre, one of the red-coated grenadiers. He reached forward to retrieve his weapon, shaking the spear contemptuously to
