spirit”
“Metamorpherie is very subtle,” Basil insisted. “You’d miss the reference during a cursory scan.”
“Those folios were captured when my ancestors drove the stone giants from this vale!” Cuthbert growled. “I can assure you, I have done more than scan them during the fifty-odd years I have lived in this castle.”
“The earl would have remembered something as important as a reference to the Twilight Spirit, I’m certain,” Brianna lied. Given Tavis’s recent accusations, she thought it would be wiser to smooth their host’s rumpled feathers now and arrange later for Basil to examine the volumes. “Tavis is about to leave. I thought you might like to wish him luck.”
The verbeeg pulled his satchel off his shoulder and placed it on the floor. “I’ll do more than that,” he said, opening the leather sack. “I prepared a little something that might help him sneak past the giants.”
Basil withdrew a large silver mask from his satchel. It was shaped like a smiling face, with holes where the eyes and mouth should have been. The verbeeg had etched more than a dozen of his magical runes deep into its glistening silver.
“That was a wedding gift from Lady Cuthbert’s father!” the earl yelled. “And you’ve ruined it!”
“I’ve only made it functional,” the verbeeg replied in a proud voice. “Now, it really can disguise someone.”
Brianna raised her brow. “How so?”
“Tavis can use it to make himself look like anyone he wishes-even a giant,” the runecaster explained. “All he has to do is lay the mask over the face of the person he wants to impersonate-dead or alive-and say the command word.”
“Basil is wise?” Tavis asked.
The runecaster shook his head and smiled. “Verbeegs are handsome,” he said. “The mask will take on the visage of the person it was touching. Then, when you hold it over your own face, you’ll take on the same appearance.”
“What about size?” asked Avner. “Tavis is hardly big enough to pass for a giant, even if he looks like one. And he sure doesn’t have the voice.”
Basil pointed to a rune on the cheek, then to one below the lower lip. “These will take care of the size and voice problems.” He touched another rune on the mask’s temple. “And he’ll speak the proper language-you see, I’ve thought of everything.”
“It certainly appears you have.” Brianna nodded her head in approval, then turned to Earl Cuthbert. “Perhaps, under the circumstances, you wouldn’t mind loaning the mask to Tavis?”
“By all means,” the earl grumbled.
Basil handed the mask to the scout. “Good luck, my friend.”
“This will make up for a great deal of luck,” Tavis said.
“Before you go, there’s one thing I should warn you about,” the verbeeg said. “The larger the giant you impersonate, the quicker my magic will fail.”
“How long will I have?” the scout asked.
“I wish I could say,” Basil replied. “For a hill giant, possibly three days. You might last a day as a fog giant. And-may the gods forbid-should you find yourself impersonating something like a storm giant, you’d have only a matter of hours.”
“If there’s a storm giant out there, none of us has much longer than that,” Tavis replied. He slipped the mask into his satchel. “My thanks to you, Basil-and to you, Earl Cuthbert.”
“Wear it in good health.” There was only a touch of sarcasm in the earl’s voice. Cuthbert took a tallow stick off the map case and lit the wick from Brianna’s lamp. “And the strength of Stronmaus to you-you’ll need it.”
When the earl stepped forward to give the candle to Tavis, he stubbed his foot on Basil’s satchel. The sack toppled to the floor with a clack that sounded suspiciously like stone on stone.
“What’s this?” the earl screeched. He bent down and rolled the collar of hte satchel back, revealing one of his biotite folios. He looked up at Basil with an utter expression of shock. “Thief!”
“I’m only borrowing it!” the verbeeg retorted, reciting his standard defense in such situations. “You weren’t using it, and books are meant-”
“Basil!” Brianna barked.
The verbeeg’s mouth snapped shut. He fixed his eyes on the floor. “Yes?” he asked quietly.
“I warned you about this.”
“But-”
“There’s no excuse!” Brianna yelled. “Since you’ve shown no inclination to respect our host’s property, I have no choice but to have you locked in a secure room.”
“Can I at least keep-”
Brianna silenced him with a gesture of her hand, then turned to Cuthbert. “Can you arrange that for me?”
“With pleasure,” the earl replied. He handed the candle to Tavis, then stooped down to retrieve his beloved folio, groaning loudly as he struggled to pick it up. “Since he’s a member of your company, I’ll try not to make it too unpleasant for him.”
“Thank you,” the queen said. She glanced down at Avner. “The time has come for us to let Tavis go.”
The youth nodded and looked up to the scout. “I’m not a child anymore,” he said. “You should let me come with you.”
The scout shook his head. “I’ll be back soon enough.”
“That would be more likely with someone to watch your back,” the boy grumbled. “But if I’ve got to stay, I’ll try to avoid trouble. At least you won’t have to worry about that”
“I didn’t think I would.” Tavis ruffled the boy’s hair, then said, “Take care of the queen for me.”
Avner smiled weakly. “Don’t I always?”
“Always,” Brianna agreed. She gave the lamp to Avner, then waved him and her other two companions toward the door. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to have a few words with Tavis.”
As the trio disappeared into the folio room, Brianna wrapped her arms around Tavis’s waist. “Be careful.”
The scout did not meet her gaze. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll be back with help as soon as I can.”
Tavis tried to pull away, but Brianna would not release him. “That’s not the only reason I want you to come back alive.” She looked up at his chiseled face. “You know that.”
The firbolg closed his eyes and nodded. “I know,” he said. “But it’s the only reason that matters-at least until you decide about the alliance with Gilthwit.”
“Why?” Brianna demanded. “It doesn’t need to be that way. Even if I marry the prince-and that’s a big ‘if’- Arlien won’t stay long. He’ll be anxious to return to Gilthwit-”
“After you’ve produced an heir-and you’d still be his wife,” Tavis interrupted. “I’m a firbolg. I can’t be a party to such a deception. You’ve always known that about me.”
Brianna felt her mouth open, but she did not have words to push out of it. She felt wounded, as though Tavis had slipped a dagger into her heart, but that simply could not be. He was her firbolg bodyguard, sworn to defend and protect her. He could not hurt her, except by her own command-which, of course, was the situation now. Tavis could not live in deception, and by asking him to try she could only force him away. He could abandon their love, but he could not lie to save it.
“Damn it, you were raised by humans!” Brianna stepped back, but kept her hands on the scout’s waist. “Why can’t you lie?”
Tavis set the candle aside and took her hands in his. “Because I’m not human,” he said. “I’m firbolg.”
They were interrupted by a voice from the folio room. “Tavis, wait!” It was Arlien. “I hope you haven’t-oh, dear.”
Brianna looked toward the door and saw the prince’s form silhouetted against the lamp in Avner’s hand. She stepped away from Tavis and turned toward the wall, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“I’m s-sorry,” Arlien stammered. “I seem to have-ah-interrupted.”
“Not at all, Prince,” Tavis said. If the firbolg felt any resentment for the intrusion, Brianna did not hear it in his voice. “I was just leaving.”
“Then I’m glad I caught you,” Arlien replied, limping into the room. “I wanted to present you with a
