“You killed him!” gasped Tookie. “You can’t do that!”
“We had to do that,” Moreen said, “but I told the truth when I said we wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Why-why not? What do you want?” asked the girl tremulously.
“Well, we want to get into Winterheim,” replied the chiefwoman. “I wonder if maybe you can help us?”
Karyl Drago plodded tirelessly through the long, winding cavern. It had been years since he had gone all the way to Winterheim, but he remembered the way. Fortunately, there were only a very few alternate passages, most of them short dead ends. He checked each of these, determining that the intruders were not hiding there before lumbering back into the main cavern.
He found the remains of one camp, bones of many blindfish on the cavern floor and the cold ashes of their cookfires. Sniffing the bones, he ascertained that the bits of meat remaining there had not yet spoiled. He was no more than a day or so behind them.
Thoughts of the golden axe infused him with a growing sense of urgency as he continued on. That fire-those beautiful flames! The image burned freshly in his mind. The human woman who had wielded the axe was an enigma. She had displayed a fury and determination worthy of an ogress, and Karyl Drago could not bring himself to hate her. Though she as well as her companions had attacked him and had forced him from his duty, she deserved special attention-after her cohorts were killed, of course.
The big ogre’s thoughts did not go much deeper than this, but they burned hot and bright. He would find that axe, and then … he didn’t know what he would do. Worship it, perhaps? That seemed right.
He didn’t have to decide now. Instead, he simply plodded onward, winding through the long cavern, knowing that before long he would reach the Moongarden. The city was not far beyond that fertile warren. Even now, contemplating those wonders and glories, he could only think of that wonderful axe.
“I never saw a person kill an ogre before,” Tookie said to Barq One-Tooth, who muttered an awkward and unintelligible reply. “I’ve seen ogres kill people before. I don’t like to see that, but it happens. Old Harmlor, he mighta killed me, I think, when he threw me down.”
The girl rubbed her arm, which Moreen had liberally smeared with Dinekki’s healing ointment. “It doesn’t even hurt any more! Was that stuff magic? I never had any magic touch me before! I only see magic when the queen does it, and then it’s pretty scary.”
“Yes, this is good magic,” the chiefwoman said gently. “It was made for us by a nice lady, a grandmother of our tribe.” She tousled the child’s black hair, noting the dark skin and deep brown eyes. “Your tribe too, I think. You’re an Arktos girl, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Tookie replied. “I’m a slave girl, I guess.”
“Are your mother and father slaves, too?” Kerrick asked.
She shook her head. “They’re dead is what they are. My mom died when I was born, and my father …” Her eyes teared, and she sniffled, then tossed her head and glared at the elf as if challenging him. “He was killed by an ogre.”
“I’m sorry,” Kerrick said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“How come your ear is so big, the one, I mean? The other looks like it got cut off or something.”
The elf flushed. Moreen knew that he had been scarred by his own king on the night of his exile from Silvanesti, stricken with a sword that sliced away half of his distinctive elven ear. The chiefwoman didn’t even notice the mark any more, but now and then she noticed Kerrick touching it, his face an unreadable mask.
“It was cut off,” he replied, still keeping his tone soft. “The other one is long because that’s the way an elf’s ear is supposed to look.”
“You’re an elf?” Tookie’s eyes widened. “I thought elves were scary!”
“I can be scary,” Kerrick insisted, scowling for a moment before breaking into a smile, “but I like you.”
“I guess I like you, too. That was pretty brave the way you stabbed that ogre.” She turned back to Barq, who was still scrubbing ogre blood off of his axe blade. “You too. If you hadn’t fought old Harmlor, all of you would have been in big trouble.”
The girl paused for a moment, looking at the companions one at a time, then turned to Moreen. “You know, I think you still might be in big trouble. They’re going to notice when Harmlor doesn’t come back to the garrison.”
“Yes, we were thinking that too. Do you know, is there some way we could get away from here so that when they come looking for Harmlor they don’t find us here?”
The girl nodded quickly. “I could take you to the slave barracks at the warrens.” She frowned. “Everyone would know you were strangers, though. Some of them might tell the ogres.”
“That wouldn’t do-and we don’t want to get you in trouble, either.”
The girl’s eyes fell to the ground. “Actually, I’m already in trouble. Harmlor, he was looking for me. You see, I’m not supposed to come in here on my own, but I just like the Moongarden so much. It’s my favorite place in the world. The masters want me to run errands all the time, back and forth, to the Posting House, mainly. That’s so boring. I wanted to come in here and wander around in the fungus forest.”
The elf knelt before Tookie and looked the girl in the eyes. “What about this Posting House? Is that in Winterheim?”
“Yep. Up in the middle. It’s where they bring all the slaves when they first come here or when they get old enough to be sent off to a job. Tildy Trew is the boss up there, and she’s nice.”
“Do you suppose you could take us there? Without us having to talk to ogres on the way?” asked Kerrick.
“Well, I could try. There’s a path from the Moongardens that goes into the city, and it comes in right by the Posting House. I go there a lot, taking messages. If you were with me, I could say you were slaves, but you’d have to hide your swords and stuff.”
“We could do that,” Moreen said. “There are more of us over there near the cave leading in.” The chiefwoman had another thought. “We’re looking for a new slave, a man who was brought to Winterheim a few weeks ago. His name is Strongwind Whalebone. Have you seen him, or anyone that might be him?”
The girl’s face wrinkled in concentration as she gave the matter some thought. “I don’t think so. I didn’t see any new slaves come in this summer, but I don’t see lots of things, since I live in the Warren Barracks.”
“Is the Posting House where they bring new slaves?” pressed the chiefwoman.
“Yes. Tildy Trew might know about this Strongwing Whale. Shall we go to see her?”
“As soon as we can pack up our equipment, yes,” Moreen said. “Tell me, could we hide our weapons somewhere too?”
“Sure. Come with me to the other end of the warren-there are food baskets that we use for harvesting. You can put your stuff in them and hide it pretty good.” She pointed at the Axe of Gonnas, the blade wrapped in burlap as it jutted from Bruni’s pack. “I don’t know about that big hatchet, though.”
“Well, please take us there,” Moreen said. “Bruni, will you go back and tell the others. They can hide in the grotto while we try to work out a plan. Tookie, are you ready to go now?”
The girl nodded with great dignity, then watched seriously as they packed up their gear, hoisted their packs, and made ready to go. “Aren’t you going to hide Harmlor?” she asked.
“Good idea,” Barq said. Tookie watched impassively as Bruni and Barq pulled the big corpse down the rest of the rocky embankment. They rolled several large rocks over the ogre’s body.
“This way,” the girl said. “You follow along behind me a little bit, okay? I can let you know if someone’s coming and you have to hide.”
“She’s just a little girl. Do you think we can trust her?” whispered Kerrick to Moreen as they started out.
“Yes, I do,” the chiefwoman said. She was impressed, even awed, by the child’s casual courage as the waif led them out of the Moongarden.
17
