“I’m sure Arlien and his father have considered this matter very carefully, Tavis,” Brianna chided. She turned her gaze back to the prince. “I hope you’ll allow me time to do the same.”
The scout bit his cheek, afraid he would blurt out another objection. He could not believe Brianna would actually consider marrying a man she had met only that morning.
Arlien nodded. “Of course, Milady,” he replied. “And I hope you’ll do me the courtesy of accepting this, as a token of my sincere regrets for my unfortunate reaction this morning.”
The prince opened the box he had been holding. Inside, resting on a bed of white velvet, lay a fabulous necklace of thumb-sized jewels. The gems were shaped like teardrops, and they scintillated with a pale blue light that seemed to arise from deep within their own hearts. They had settings of elegant simplicity, a bell of white gold encircled with a single scribe line, and they hung on a finely woven chain of red gold.
Brianna gasped and plucked the necklace from the box, laying it across her hand. She began to roll the jewels about, smiling in delight as rays of azure light danced over her palm.
“They’re cold and warm at once!”
Arlien smiled. “We call them ice diamonds. Our miners dig them from the heart of the Endless Ice Sea itself,” he reported. “It’s said that as long as you wear these, you’ll never cry.”
Tavis was beginning to wish he had left Arlien in High Meadow. “It’s healthy for humans to cry.”
“Not for queens, Tavis.” Brianna arched her eyebrows at the scout, as if to ask his forbearance, then held the necklace out to Arlien. “You are completely forgiven, dear prince. Won’t you be kind enough to help me put this on?”
Arlien took the necklace. “Ice diamonds are but one of the many treasures Gilthwit has to offer,” he said, undoing the clasp. “My caravan had samples of all our riches, but this was all I could save when the frost giants attacked.”
“Whatever you lost, I’m happy you saved this.”
Brianna lifted her silky hair and spun around, inviting Arlien to slip the necklace around her throat. Because the queen stood so much taller than he did, the prince had to raise his arms above his head. As he reached forward, he suddenly let out a deep groan and stumbled back in pain. A trickle of blood seeped from beneath his cloak and ran down his armored leg. Brianna turned around and took the necklace from the prince’s hands, returning it to its silver case.
“Perhaps we’ll put it on later.” The queen took Arlien’s arm and led him toward the trapdoor. “Now you should rest We’ll speak more of alliances as we ride back to my castle tomorrow.”
Tavis moved to help, happy to be rid of the prince. As the trio approached the trapdoor, the scout heard urgent voices coming from the chamber below. By the time the three reached the opening, Earl Cuthbert’s barrel- chested form was clambering up the ladder. He was a round-faced man of fifty, with a balding head, squinting eyes, and a pair of crossed shepherd’s staves emblazoned on his leather jerkin.
The earl pulled himself onto the roof and gave the queen a perfunctory bow. “Have you seen them, Majesty?”
“Seen whom?” Brianna demanded, still supporting Prince Arlien’s frail form.
“Giants!” the earl reported. “Serfs have been coming in from all corners of the fief, and some claim the brutes have already surrounded us!”
Without waiting for a reply, Cuthbert scurried to the battlements. Brianna followed close behind, with Arlien limping along at her side. Knowing that it was already too dark to see any giants lurking on the distant hills, Tavis stayed behind and peered into the chamber below to see whom the earl had been speaking with earlier.
The scout found his friends Avner and Basil standing at the base of the ladder, a large oval mirror resting on the floor between them.
“What have you there?” the scout asked.
Avner looked up and smiled proudly. He was a sandy-haired youth of sixteen, with the fuzz of his first beard clinging to his chin.
“You’ll see soon enough.” As nimble as a mountain goat, the boy scrambled up the ladder, then immediately swung around and stuck his arms back through the portal. “Go ahead and pass it up.”
“It’s heavy,” Basil warned.
Without waiting for an invitation, the scout lay down next to the boy and stretched his own arms into the hole. Basil pushed the mirror up, then Tavis and Avner lifted the heavy thing through the portal. A pair of hinge pins mounted on the sides suggested it had come off some piece of precious furniture, such as Lady Cuthbert’s dressing table. The looking glass’s wooden frame was thoroughly covered with the familiar carved lines of Basil’s rune magic.
“I hope Cuthbert gave you permission to do this,” Tavis groaned, guessing that such a mirror was worth about a year of his salary.
“The earl knows about it, anyway,” Avner replied. “And when he sees what it can do, he won’t mind.”
The scout carefully laid the mirror aside, then peered down into the hole. He saw Basil climbing the ladder, moving much more carefully than the boy. It was a wise precaution, for the runecaster was a verbeeg, another of the races of giant-kin. He was even larger than Tavis, with gangling arms and bowed legs as thick as aspen boles. His distended belly and hairy, stooped shoulders gave him a gaunt, half-starved look, but anyone who had ever made the mistake of inviting him to a banquet knew that was not the case.
“Basil, what’s all this about being surrounded by giants?” Tavis called.
“I can’t say yet,” the verbeeg replied, looking up. He had eyebrows as gray and coarse as the scrawny beard hanging from his chin. His thick lips gave him an affable-if somewhat sly-smile. That’s why I created the rune mirror. It’ll be much more accurate than relying on the peasants. “They’re terrified, and you know how humans exaggerate when they’re panicked.”
The scout clasped his friend’s wrist and pulled, helping him squeeze through the roof portal. Basil picked up the large mirror and balanced it on one hand as though it were a serving tray. He started toward Brianna and the others, the planks creaking and groaning beneath his great weight Tavis took the precaution of staying a fair distance from the verbeeg. Although the keep roof was supposed to be strong enough to support an entire company of soldiers, the firbolg worried that the combined mass of two giant-kin would be enough to snap one of the weathered planks.
When Tavis reached the battlements, he stopped behind Brianna and peered over her head into the deepening twilight. He could still see the sentries on the outer curtain and the reflection of torchlit windows gleaming off the black waters of Lake Cuthbert, but very little else. If any giants were lurking on the dark lakeshore hills, the purple shroud of evening had already hidden them from sight Even the distant mountains were hardly visible against the murky clouds beyond their summits.
“This is no use,” said Arlien. “The light’s too dim. We’ll have to send out scouts.”
“That would be both dangerous and unnecessary,” said Basil.
Arlien turned to see who had contradicted him. His jaw clenched in rancor. “A verbeeg!”
“You don’t seem very fond of giant-kin,” Tavis observed.
The spite in Arlien’s eyes did not fade. “In my land, verbeegs are not to be trusted.”
“And in our land, people are judged on their merit-”
“Basil is no ordinary verbeeg, I assure you,” Brianna interrupted. She stepped between Tavis and Arlien, then faced the runecaster himself. “What have you prepared for us, my friend?”
Casting a haughty smirk Arlien’s direction, Basil took the mirror in both hands and turned the silvered glass toward the lakeshore hills. The reflection showed the rocky slopes as though the hour were noon instead of dusk. Tavis saw the stoop-shouldered figures of several hill giants scattered among the crooked scrub pines. The brutes sat on boulders or squatted atop rocky outcroppings, calmly watching the lakeshore below as a steady trickle of humans fled toward the castle bridge. Although it would have been a simple thing to toss a few boulders at the haggard serfs, the giants made no move to harass the refugees.
“Wasn’t it fog giants you battled in High Meadow?” asked Avner. “Those look more like hill giants.”
“They are,” agreed Tavis. “No doubt the same ones that have been laying waste to Earl Cuthbert’s hamlets.”
“They’re not ferocious enough.” The earl stepped closer to Basil and squinted into the mirror. “If those were the giants who have been razing my villages, they’d be slaughtering my serfs, not allowing them safe passage.”
