'What for?'
'Magic. An enchantment to protect the hands of whoever goes after that golden scroll next.'
'Then you're not borrowing them, are you?'
'No, but I need them.'
'Make sure your magic works; that's all I ask.'
12
7 Eleint, the Year of the Banner (1368 DR) Dekanter
Druhallen awoke with water dripping onto his face. The gods knew how long the drops had been striking his forehead. He couldn't guess; puddles were everywhere, and his clothes were as soaked as they'd been when he'd surrendered the watch to Rozt'a.
Rose-gold clouds floated in the east, but the sun hadn't risen and the camp was quiet. Rozt'a, on watch, acknowledged Dru with a nod, nothing more, when he sat up. The goblin was still asleep with his arms flung over his eyes, and Tiep was with the horses. There was no eye contact between them the first time Dru walked by, but when he returned Druhallen was ready for the sure-to-be-difficult conversation.
Tiep raised his head. He saw Druhallen coming and chose to look at his feet.
'She told me,' the youth mumbled.
Dru hitched up his soggy pants and squatted beside Hopper's hindquarters. The hoof crack had widened overnight. The gelding stood with the affected leg bent and his weight on his other three hooves. He twitched and whickered plaintively when Druhallen ran a hand down the bent leg.
Dru was no ranger or druid. He couldn't heal a horse any more than he could heal himself, but a man who'd lived nine months out of twelve on the road for twenty-odd years learned a few things about horses and their feet, will he or nil he.
He said, 'The old man's hurting.'
Tiep wrapped his arms around Hopper's neck and supported the horse's head on his shoulder. 'It'll get better when it dries. I'll take care of him. Hopper trusts me to take care of him.'
'You've earned that trust, and you still have to take care of him. You know what that means. Hopper's about your age. That's young for a man, but old for a horse. Something like this was bound to happen.'
'I thought we'd give him to a farmer with a fallow field-'
'And you wouldn't have to be there when the time came to put him down.'
Dru stood and met Tiep's hurt-angry stare. He held it until the young man looked away again.
'Isn't there anything you can do? A binding spell to pull the edges together. An enchantment-'
'No.'
'What good are you? What good is magic at all?'
Tiep was an expert when it came to returning pain.
Dru swallowed hard and said, 'No good at all this morning.' He put an arm around Tiep's shoulder and let the youth shrug free. 'Did Rozt'a tell you the plan?'
'Bastards,' Tiep spat. 'Cruel, heartless bastards-both of you.'
'That's neither true nor fair. You know Hopper's not walking out of these mountains. You know it, you just don't want to admit it. We could let him go the way Cardinal went or we can endow a feast down in the quarry and maybe-just maybe-that gets us on the goblins' good side long enough to get that scroll on its way to Weathercote. Suppose you ask Hopper which way he'd like to go?'
Tiep shook his head but said nothing.
'You don't have to go into the quarry with us, Tiep. You can stay up here with the gear and the rest of the animals. Gods know we should set a watch-'
'Isn't that the same as giving him to a farmer?' Tiep's eyes were bright, and his voice was thick.
Dru nodded. 'Except the farmer's not as unpredictable as those goblins are apt to be.'
A weak smile lifted Tiep's lips. 'If we're going to sacrifice Hopper to get out of this stink-hole, then I'm going to be there when it happens. The last thing he sees will be me.'
'No promises, Tiep. Anything can happen down there. Kicking over a hornet's nest would be less exciting than leading a ton of meat into Ghistpok's camp.'
Druhallen draped an arm around Tiep again. This time the youth didn't shrug him off.
'But you-?' Tiep lifted his chin. 'You'll do it, won't you, Dru? You left a place for mercy in your memory last night, didn't you?'
He nodded. What Tiep and the others called his 'mercy' spell was the simple flame spell he studied most nights. The difference was in the delivery. No one asked him how it felt to cast fire into an animal's skull. They didn't want to know. 'The old man won't suffer,' Dru said softly; he'd see to that. 'Go tell Rozt'a that you're coming down to the quarry with us. See if there's anything she wants you to do.'
Tiep gave him a penetrating, slit-eyed stare. 'Yeah. Sure. I get it.'
Perhaps, he did. Tiep disentangled himself from Dru's arm without another word, leaving Dru alone with the old horse. This wouldn't be the first time, of course-there'd been Cardinal just a few days ago and more than he could readily count in the years previous-but 'mercy' was never easy. He leaned into a horse-scented mane and revisited the past until he felt a tug on his sleeve.
'Good woman sad. That one sad. Good sir sad. Sheemzher ask, why sad. Sheemzher show way. Way good. People good. Why all sad?'
Dru looked down and tried not to resent the interruption. 'Hopper's cracked a hoof. It started on the way into Parnast. We should have had him shod as soon as we got there, but never got to it. Rock like this is rough on their hooves at the best of times and Hopper's an old man among horses. All the rain we've had, especially last night. Standing in all that water the way he was, it got worse in a hurry.'
The goblin clutched his hands behind his back and crouched to examine Hopper's injury. 'So little?'
'That's all it takes for a horse. You could hop, or use a crutch, but Hopper needs all four legs, all the time. If we were somewhere else, maybe we could nurse him along, but he'd stay lame, and we're here, not somewhere else.'
'Sacrifice, good sir? That one says, we're going to sacrifice Hopper to get out of this stink-hole. Sheemzher understand stink-hole. What be sacrifice, good sir?'
Druhallen pushed damp hair back from his forehead. He studied the risen sun and the crystal flecks in the nearest gray boulder. 'Sacrifice is doing what hurts in the hope that everything will turn out right in the end.'
'Hurt good sir or hurt Hopper?'
'If the good sir doesn't hurt, Sheemzher, then it's not much of a sacrifice.'
Sheemzher reached up to scratch his head. They both noticed he was carrying a somewhat soggy chunk of bread.
'For you, good sir. Good woman says, That damn sack leaked again and we lost two loaves. Eat it quick or it'll go to waste.'
Dru took his breakfast. The first bite tasted about as good as it looked. 'Tell her, Thanks. Now. Tell her now.'
The goblin gave him the same look Tiep had given him and went off to brighten Rozt'a's morning. Dru ate the bread-no telling when he'd eat again, except it wouldn't be down in the quarry.
They were ready by the time the sun was an hour above the eastern mountain crest. Druhallen thought they'd have trouble getting Hopper out of the gully, but they took it slow and Hopper placed each hoof, even the cracked one, with exquisite care. He wasn't the brightest horse ever foaled, nor the strongest, nor most handsome, but he was steady, reliable, and above all else, he trusted them completely.
Hopper balked at the top of the spiraling quarry steps. Dru had worried about them, too, but the steps had been carved ages ago by dwarves, not goblins. Considerably wider than they were high, the Dekanter steps were proportioned so that legs and feet of many sizes-dwarves, goblins, men and even horses-could find a comfortable stride.
Midway down the first stairway they were noticed by the goblin camp. The same high-pitched keening that
