Paxina started toward a flight of steps that led down from the wall. She waved Brimble off as he started to follow. “Stay there,” she told him. “You’ve got work to do. If there’s trouble, Giffel will take care of it.”
Brimble looked doubtful but bowed obediently and turned back to his men. “Quit gawking, you bloody mooncalves!” he snapped, stabbing a finger out across the meadow. “You’re supposed to be looking that way! Branchala bite me, how are you going to keep the ogres out if you can’t even guard the wall properly?”
Paxina trotted down to the courtyard below, her grin fading as she noted Giffel’s solemn expression.
“Pax,” Giffel said, “Kronn and Catt are back.”
“So,” Paxina said quietly, “they were the riders. Did they bring anyone with them? Humans?”
“Yes. Three humans, and a little girl-a kender girl.”
Paxina blinked, not sure what to make of that.
“That’s not all. Catt’s hurt, Pax. I don’t know how bad,” Giffel added, heading off her next question. “I took the lot of them over to Arlie Longfinger ‘s house and left them there while I came to look for you.”
“Thanks, Giff,” Paxina replied. She glanced around anxiously. “Is Arlie’s place still on Henstooth Street?”
He nodded. “Over by Sneezing Goblin Fountain.”
“All right, then,” she declared, already heading briskly up the street. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 16
Giffel pointed at a small, ginerbread-fetooned bungalow, half a block up on the right. It sat back from the road, fronted by a large, orderly garden. Giffel held open the house’s whitewashed gate as Paxina passed through, then followed her up the winding path through the midst of the blighted garden. As they passed, they saw that the plants were brown and dying, giving off the same faint, sulfurous stink that shrouded the Kenderwood.
A sign hung above the bungalow’s door. It read “Arlie Longfinger: Herbalist, Chirurgeon and Healer of Ills. Reasonable Rates.” Underneath, stenciled in red, were the words “No Livestock.”
The cottage’s front door swung open. An ancient, wizened kender tottered on the stoop, peering out at them through bottle-thick spectacles. “Yes, what is it?” he snapped. “Someone’s cow giving sour milk? Or does one of your chickens have the mumps? Honestly, I-”
He broke off abruptly, squinting, then took off his glasses and wiped them with his sleeve. When he slid them back on his face, his eyebrows shot up like two white feathers. “By my boots! Lord Mayor! I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first.”
“Pax!”
A green blur came charging out of the depths of the cottage, pouches bouncing. Paxina had enough time to brace herself and open her arms before Kronn leapt on her, smothering her with a hug. “Kronn!” she gasped, returning the embrace. “Kronn, you’re crushing my ribs.”
“Sorry,” he said, letting her go. “It’s just so good to be back home-especially after what happened to us today.” He grinned broadly. “You heard about our little ride past town around lunchtime, I’m sure.”
His smile was so infectious she couldn’t help but return it. “I didn’t know it was you,” she said. “I had my suspicions, though.”
“Catt got hurt, Pax,” Kronn said, suddenly serious.
“I know. How bad is it?”
“She’ll be fine,” Arlie Longfinger said. “She’s sleeping now. Kronn did a good job setting her arm-it should heal well. She took a bump on her head, and it knocked her out for a while, but there’s no permanent damage. I’ve given her a poultice and some tea, and I think she’ll be all right to move in a few days, once the dizziness and nausea pass. She can rest here until then.”
“I always said it was a good thing you Thistleknots had such thick skulls,” Giffel joked.
Kronn smacked him on the shoulder. “Incidentally, Pax,” he said, “I found someone who will help us. And best of all, he’s a genuine Hero of the Lance.”
Paxina caught her breath. “Not Caramon Majere.”
“Well, uh, no-but we did try for Caramon.”
“Oh. Oh, well,” Paxina said. “But-I thought the rest of them were dead.”
“Not yet,” said a booming voice.
The four kender started and turned toward the voice. Riverwind stood at the end of the hall-or, rather, he stooped there, beneath the low, kender-sized ceiling.
“Whoa,” said Paxina. “You got him. The Plainsman-uh…”
“Riverwind,” said Riverwind.
Paxina snapped her fingers. “Riverwind, right! Well, who needs Caramon? You’re just as good. Better, in fact.”
The Plainsman smiled kindly, inclining his head. “Thank you. You must be Paxina.”
“Come in, all of you, before you let every fly in existence into my home,” Arlie said, ushering Giffel and the Thistleknots through the open door. “You can go talk in the dining room. The big fellow’s friends are there. I was just fixing a light supper. You’re welcome to join us, Your Honor.” His face crinkled into a grin. “There’s plenty of bacon sandwiches for everyone.”
“All things considered, I was fairly sure I was dead,” Kronn said, speaking around a mouthful of bacon and bread. “The ogres had me penned in. I doubt Balif himself could have fought his way out of it. But then Swiftraven came riding out of nowhere and pulled Catt and me out of the fire, so to speak.” He grinned, clapping the young warrior on the shoulder. “Which makes us even for that bit with the pirates, as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, since the front gate was obviously a bad idea, I figured we’d take the tunnels. We ran into Giff down there, and he brought us here.”
Paxina leaned forward, still taking in her brother’s story. Kronn had told the whole tale, from his departure from Kendermore to his return, without even pausing to take a breath. Paxina took a sip of cider from the goblet Arlie had poured for her and looked at the Plainsfolk.
“Your turn, Pax,” Kronn said. “What happened while we were gone? When Catt and I left, the ogres were still far away, raiding border towns, and that was only a season ago. Now it looks like they’re camped on your doorstep.”
“A lot can happen in a season, Kronn,” Paxina replied. She set down her goblet and sat back, her expression glum. “After you left, the ogres kept raiding, here and there-Deerfield, Myrtledew, a few other places. Some of our people got captured for slaves, but many got away through the tunnels. Pretty much the way things have been since last spring. Malys stuck to the north coast, burning villages whenever she had the hankering.”
“Anyway,” Paxina continued, “that’s the way it was until about a month ago. Then, as best as we can figure, two things happened. First, someone killed the hetman of the ogres and took his place.”
“The new one’s named Kurthak, but they also call him the Black-Gazer,” Giffel said. “He’s smart, for an ogre.”
“Worse, he’s ambitious,” Paxina added. “Ruog, the old hetman, was content with sending small war bands on border raids. Not Kurthak, though. Since he took over, it’s become pretty clear he’s more interested in out-and-out expansion and conquest. Instead of war bands, he sent in the whole army.”
“Nettles and thorns,” Kronn swore. “None of the villages could stand against that.”
“They didn’t,” Giffel said grimly.
“We lost battle after battle, more and more ground, Kronn,” Paxina said. “Their ultimate target is Kendermore.” She ran a hand over her face, looking tired.
She fell silent, bowing her head. Kronn blew a long, slow sigh out through his lips. For a moment, no one spoke.
“I’m sorry Your Honor,” Riverwind murmured. “You said two things happened a month ago. What was the other?”
Paxina looked up. Riverwind couldn’t help but shudder at her expression. There was a hopelessness there that he’d never seen before on a kender’s face.
“Malys,” the Lord Mayor said. “She’s the other thing. She and Kurthak must have joined forces. After the
