“It is when they’re under an enchantment!”
Avner grabbed the ice diamonds hanging from Brianna’s throat. A cold, stinging pain shot through his hand, and his arm went numb clear to the elbow. The youth cried out, barely managing to open his stiff fingers and pull his arm back. His hand had gone white with frostbite.
“Avner!” Brianna clutched her chest where his hand had brushed her breast. “What in Hiatea’s name are doing?”
“The necklace.” Avner had to speak through clenched teeth. “It’s enchanted.”
“As a matter of fact, it is,” Arlien said. “It will freeze the hand of any thief who touches it And I can’t abide thieves!”
The prince shoved Avner out the door with such force that the youth bounced off the far wall of the corridor. Arlien followed close behind and caught the boy on the rebound, then turned to push him toward his own room.
Avner’s barrow stood at the end of the corridor, clearly silhouetted against the flickering torchlight in the main hall. Prince Arlien released his grip and marched over to the cart
“Avner, is this yours?” the prince demanded. He reached into the barrow and tipped the folio up. “And what’s this inside? One of Earl Cuthbert’s folios?”
Brianna stepped into the hall. “Avner!”
“It’s not for me,” he began. “I’m just borrowing it for-”
“What you were doing is plain enough!” Arlien snapped.
Brianna locked her arms stiffly at her sides, as if restraining the urge to strike the youth. “You betrayed my trust!” she spat “You’re as bad as Basil!”
“But-”
“Be quiet!” the queen snapped. “You just stand there while I figure out what to do with you.”
“If I may, I have a suggestion,” said Prince Arlien.
“Please tell me,” Brianna said. “I’m too angry to think.”
“Return the folio to the library before its absence is noticed,” suggested the prince. “Basil has already embarrassed you quite enough with the earl, and Cuthbert’s just the type to seize this as an excuse to turn us out”
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?” Brianna asked.
The prince shrugged. “Perhaps, but why take the chance?” he asked. “Even if I’m wrong, admitting that there’s a second thief in your party will only lead to more distrust and resentment on Cuthbert’s part. Wouldn’t it be better to take care of this problem ourselves, and limit our arguments with the earl to matters of strategy?”
Brianna considered this for a moment, then nodded. “You do have a point.” She turned to Avner. “Do as the good prince suggests, and put that folio back exactly where you found it.”
Arlien scowled as she issued the command. “The boy can’t be trusted,” he said. “I was thinking we would return the book ourselves.”
Brianna shook her head. “You’ll wake up the entire keep clanking about in the armor,” she said. “Besides, Avner wouldn’t dare disobey me again-would you?”
The youth lowered his eyes. “Certainly not, Majesty.”
“Good. When you’re finished, return to your chamber and wait for me there,” she said. “I’ll inform you of your punishment in the morning.”
Avner bowed to Brianna and started to leave, but Arlien caught his shoulder. “Do as you’re told, young man- and don’t even think about taking that folio to Basil’s room instead,” he warned. “I’ll be watching.”
“At least that’ll keep you out of the queen’s bedroom,” Avner muttered. He tried to jerk free, but the prince’s fingers were as powerful as dragon talons.
“What did you say?” Arlien demanded.
The youth looked away and grumbled, “Nothing.”
“It would be best if you made that a habit,” the prince said. He released Avner’s arm, then added, “Think about it.”
“I’m already thinking.” He was thinking that something seemed very wrong when Brianna could not say Tavis’s name, and that, with the future of two kingdoms at stake, the “good prince” might well use a magic necklace to win Brianna’s heart The youth was also thinking that anyone who enchanted the queen of Hartsvale would not hesitate to kill one lowly page, and Avner had no illusions about his ability to protect himself.
If he wanted to see the dawn tomorrow, his only choice was to leave Cuthbert Castle tonight “You can be sure of that” Avner grabbed the handles of his barrow and started for the keep basement
6
Tavis crested the canyon headwall. Ahead of him lay an undulating meadow of alpine tundra, traversed by ribs of gray bedrock and partially enclosed by a jagged wall of peaks. A single granite pinnacle stood forward from the rest, tipped slightly outward like an ogre’s snaggled fang. It could be only Wyvern’s Eyrie.
Near the bottom of the spire, perhaps a hundred feet off the ground, a lone stone giant was creeping across a narrow rock shelf. From across the emerald meadow, the brute looked like a tiny spider, pulling himself forward one limb at a time. Ahead of him, seven smaller specks, undoubtedly humans, were scurrying around the shoulder of the mountain. It seemed apparent that their pursuer would catch them long before they reached the narrow pass at the end of the ledge.
Tavis snatched a runearrow from his quiver and started toward the pinnacle at a trot. The firbolg kept a careful watch on the meadow around him, keenly aware that a second stone giant could be lurking behind any of the ridges ahead. At the demolished farm the scout had found two pairs of giant tracks, and both sets had led up the canyon into the vale ahead.
As the scout crossed the meadow, Wyvern’s Eyrie and everything on it grew more distinct. He saw that the ledge was really a series of broken rock lips linked together by graying logs. The giant’s heels hung over the edge of the narrow shelf, forcing the brute to keep his face pressed to the cliff. Tavis could even tell that the party of humans consisted of four women, two little girls, and a brawny shepherd boy armed with a long pitchfork. The youth kept looking back toward the giant as though aching for a fight he had little hope of winning.
One of the women pointed at Tavis, and the whole procession stopped to look.
“Keep going!” Tavis yelled, continuing to run.
Had there not been a chill wind blowing down from the peaks, the farmers might have heard the firbolg’s resonant voice. As it was, however, they stood on the ledge, watching Tavis while the giant crept closer. The scout broke stride long enough to wave them on, but still they waited. When he scrambled up the first of the bedrock ridges traversing the meadow, two of the women pointed to the third crag ahead.
“Be… watch… giant!”
Tavis could barely hear their shrill voices coming to him on the wind. He waved in acknowledgment, and the farmers turned away to continue their escape. The giant behind them slid across the ledge, coming within three arm-lengths of the shepherd boy. The scout considered stopping to shoot now, but at three hundred paces he was barely inside Bear Driller’s range. Given the runearrow’s heavy tip and the contrary wind, he had no reasonable chance of making the shot.
Tavis continued forward at his best sprint, angling away from the ambush the farmers had warned him about He glanced up at the ledge every third step. The giant drew to within two arm-lengths of the boy, and then one. The youth stopped on a log bridge and raised his pitchfork, and that was when Tavis realized accuracy was not as important as he had thought
“No!” the scout boomed, yelling so hard that his throat went raw. He scrambled up the next rocky bluff. “Keep going!”
The youth glanced down, and the giant made a grab for him. The boy ducked, then thrust his pitchfork at his attacker’s huge hand. The wooden tines snapped, and a grim chuckle echoed down from the mountain. The youth
