forward, closing half the distance between itself and the doomed men with three steps. Kwalu didn't retreat an inch, instead reaching for a small leather box that hung at his belt.
Artus saw then how futile it would be to run. Unless he'd started to move long before the dinosaur broke through the tree line, it could catch him in a half-dozen thunderous steps. The explorer glanced over his shoulder, hoping Sanda had possessed the sense to bolt at the first rumbling footstep. At the same time, he reached back for an arrow from his quiver. Kwalu was right in that much-better to fight until the end.
He never got to fire that arrow. The sight of Sanda, stretched out in peaceful repose before the charging dinosaur, made him fumble the shaft back into the quiver. She hadn't moved a single step. Neither had she drawn her weapon for a final, hopeless stand. No, Sanda had lain back in the grass and fallen asleep.
Certain that bizarre sight would be his last, Artus braced himself for the crushing weight of the dinosaur's foot. Yet the roars of the guardian and the thunder of its charge had stopped. Only the calls of the young, pleading and submissive, rang out over the clearing.
When Artus turned around again, the dinosaur stood close enough for him to reach out and touch the leathery hide of one leg. Nearby, Kwalu leaned against another thick leg, idly adjusting his grip on his shield. 'It is a triceratops, I think,' the negus noted. 'The young must have got separated from the herd. They usually travel in large groups.'
'What?' Artus sputtered. He looked up at the dinosaur. It had taken another step toward him, blocking out the sun with its massive frill and horns.
'Sanda has control of the beast,' Kwalu offered calmly, gesturing toward the woman with his club. 'That is the power Ubtao granted her. She can possess any warmblooded creature, bend its will to hers.'
'But this is a lizard!'
'It is a dinosaur,' Kwalu replied. 'A child of Ubtao. It is like a lizard, but its massive heart pumps blood as hot as yours or mine.'
The negus turned to his fellow bara. 'We should move her,' he said, shooing away one of the baby triceratops that had begun to rabble at the fringe around his calf. 'She cannot control this brute for long.'
Artus slung his bow over his shoulder and picked up Sanda. As he draped her limp arms over his shoulders, lifting her on his back, he stared up at the full-grown triceratops. The creature nodded and turned one huge eye toward him. As Artus watched, the black orbs filled with color-the same green as Sanda's eyes. Shaken, he looked away.
When Artus caught up with Kwalu again, the negus was fast approaching the far end of the clearing. He seemed unaffected by the incident, unfazed by the gruesome death he had nearly met. 'You knew Sanda was going to do that,' the explorer said. 'Take over the triceratops, I mean.'
'No,' Kwalu answered. 'I was not thinking of her bara power. I am glad she did.'
'Yeah, I'm glad too.' Artus shifted Sanda's weight on his back. 'Kwalu, if you didn't know she was going to use her power…'
The negus patted the small leather box at his hip. 'I have a power of my own, Artus.' He let the comment stand, refusing to elaborate even after the explorer asked him directly. All he would say was, 'Perhaps you will see me use it against the Batiri. They captured me unprepared to call upon Ubtao the time your friend, Theron, found me a prisoner in their camp. Never again.'
At the edge of the clearing, Sanda began to stir. 'It was unfair of you to make Artus carry me by himself, Kwalu,' she murmured sleepily.
'I do not think he wanted to share the burden,' the negus noted. 'He did not ask my aid, so I assumed he enjoyed the task.'
Artus had not asked for Kwalu's help because the young man was royalty, and one simply didn't demand that a prince stoop to manual labor, at least not in the Heartlands. That was the majority of the reason, anyway. Suddenly self-conscious, he shuffled his feet and shifted his bow from one hand to the other.
But Artus wasn't the only one unsettled by the negus's offhand remark. An uncharacteristic wave of embarrassment struck Sanda, and she hurried past both Artus and Kwalu, 'We'd best hurry,' she mumbled. 'It'll be dark in a few hours.'
Sanda kept ahead of the others all afternoon. Only when they reached the outskirts of the goblin camp did she slow down enough for them to speak to her. By then, she had brushed aside whatever was bothering her. Though Artus was curious about her reaction, he let the subject rest until a more convenient time.
Kwalu immediately took up a position at the base of a tree. He detached the dinosaur skin from the bone frame of his shield and rolled the thick hide up into a bundle, which he used as a makeshift camp chair. The frame he folded and hid in the leaves. With his club resting across his knees and one hand on the leather box at his belt, he sat motionless, watching the camp and counting the war banners staked outside the huts and tents.
When Artus went to take up his own position, Sanda held him back. 'Unless the goblins spot us and raise an alarm, don't even think about starting a battle,' she whispered. 'If a sentry gets too close, try to drag him into the bushes before fighting in the open.'
It seemed like common sense to Artus, but he nodded politely, as if the bara's orders were full of useful revelations. Before she turned away, he said, 'When Kaverin shows himself, watch where he goes. He knows we were spying on him from T'fima's hut, so he might have moved your father from the queen's house.'
Sanda paused and took Artus's hand. 'Just stay out of sight until the warriors get here. If they arrive before sundown, we'll storm the main building. If not, we'll fall back into the jungle and come up with another plan.'
Stealthily Artus moved through the undergrowth, settling for a post a few yards from Kwalu. He sat with his longbow at his side, the arrows planted tip-down in the ground near his feet. This was an old army practice Pontifax had taught him upon returning from the Tuigan Wars. The Cormyrian archers had used the time-saving trick to good effect in their battles with the barbarians.
The goblin camp was much the same as Artus had seen it last. A few guards hid in the shadows of Queen M'bobo's two-story palace. Others squatted in the doorways of various huts or lounged against the leering totems stationed throughout the camp. Artus grimaced when he saw the wooden totems; their screeching alarm rang fresh enough in his ears for him to dread disturbing them again.
One thing had changed in the Batiri enclave. In many places, tattered, sagging tents were staked out next to the huts. Artus could see warriors fast asleep under these dirty bivouacs, piled together like dozing lions. Their spears had been planted outside the tents, much in the same way the explorer had planted his arrows-point-down and ready for quick use. Banners marked with crude symbols announced which clan occupied each part of the camp.
The sun was fading fast, and there was still no sign of the Tabaxi warriors King Osaw had promised or Kaverin himself. Without knowing precisely where Rayburton was hidden, it was pointless to charge into the camp; Artus patiently bided his time by counting the goblins and learning their clan symbols. Sanda didn't share the explorer's patience. As dusk began to settle on the camp, she climbed a nearby tree, perhaps for a better vantage.
'I hear somethin', I do,' the closest of the Batiri guards murmured. He was a short brute, even for a goblin, with one fang missing and a jagged gash across his face. He squinted in Sanda's direction. The woman hung motionless and silent, only half-hidden by the brush. Raising his spear menacingly, the goblin started toward her. 'What're you there, hidin' in the tree?'
Why doesn't he call out the other guards? Artus wondered, grabbing his bow and nocking an arrow. He centered his aim on the guard's throat; if the arrow struck true, it would stop him from crying out. The guard took another step forward, then another.
Just like when they captured me last time, Artus thought bitterly. Only there's no spider to-
He let the arrow slide to the ground and pulled his dagger from his boot. Concentrating on the softly glowing stone set in the hilt, he whispered, 'Come down.' In the leaves high above, something trilled a loud reply to the magical summons.
A monstrous spider crawled partway down the trunk toward Sanda. Like the thing that had knocked Artus from his hiding place when he'd first escaped the Batiri camp, this one was easily as large as a man. Hair as black as midnight stood up like a porcupine's bristles all along its body and how they'd been spotted. And standing as they were, with their backs to the jungle, they couldn't see the sad, phantasmal figure of Sir Hydel Pontifax behind them. The ghost hovered above the ground for a moment, hands held out to Artus. By the time the battle started,
