"Put me down, you lout! I can still turn you into a pig!"
"Yes, your demonstration of your powers has been most convincing," Torquil said wryly.
"With hot fudge sauce, Ergo?" Colwyn inquired. Ergo eyed him sourly but said nothing as Torquil let him go. He tried to straighten his shirt and dignity, both of which were badly ruffled.
"You had better manners as a pig," Torquil told him, "and it's plain to see you're still something of a ham." He looked up at Colwyn. "Of what use to you in your quest is this midget?"
"Now look here, you hirsute oaf, I—"
"Peace, Ergo," said Colwyn tiredly. "And you, Torquil. Every man has his talents to contribute." Ergo accepted that and managed to calm himself. "We will need all the help we can muster. Now we must go, now that everyone has been properly introduced." He chucked his reins and started off down the path. Torquil and his men followed.
Only Ergo, still miffed, hung back, shouting after them. "Ergo the Magnificent does not travel with thieves and cutthroats! I am no companion of bandits and murderers! I do not lie down to sleep alongside pickpockets and wife-beaters!"
The fog swirled in around him, already masking Colwyn's party. Shapes began to form in the fog, unworthy of notice when traveling with companions but suddenly sharp and demanding now that he stood by himself.
One of the gray nebulosities blinked; a single, one-eyed blink. Ergo gaped at it but it did not vanish.
"Except when necessary," he muttered to himself as he scurried after the others with admirable speed.
Several days of uneventful travel brought them to a hillside overlooking a devastated valley. Once it had been a picture of villatic contentment. Now it was a panorama out of hell.
Smoke rose not from cook pots and comforting fireplaces but from half a dozen burning towns. The wails of the distraught and the screams of injured men and dying animals rose from the smoking vale. Colwyn was glad they were not close enough to see any more than they could from the hillside. Silently the men resumed their trek along the crest of the heavily wooded ridge.
"Why do they burn the villages?" Torquil asked grimly as he marched alongside Colwyn. His gaze kept returning to the ruined valley. "There's nothing to gain. They never carry off booty or even food."
"They do it to keep us down," Ynyr explained. "Men who must concern themselves with rebuilding homes and replanting crops have no time to think of other things, no time for philosophy or science, learning or art. They force a lowly existence upon Krull."
"But why?"
Ynyr gave a little shrug. "Their intent is clear if not their ultimate motives. Perhaps they find it amusing to torment us. Perhaps they have other reasons." Torquil felt the old man wasn't telling all he knew, but the thief did not know how to pry the information out of him.
"You say there's nothing to gain," Colwyn told him. "You're wrong. There's fear to gain. You don't have to burn every village to control all. Raze one to the ground and the neighboring dozen may acknowledge your rule. Burn one valley and you might control a kingdom. They acquire such fear with fire. They spend it to rule."
"So do many human kings."
"But not all."
"No, not all." Torquil grinned. King or not, this Colwyn of Turold was a likable chap. With the right kind of upbringing he might even have made a proper thief. Torquil could bestow no higher praise on a friend.
Ergo had been listening closely to this conversation as he shuffled along behind the horses. His eyes had widened as the import of the conversation became clear.
"Is he a… a king?"
The tall ruffian striding along next to him, one Bardolph by name, nodded once. "Colwyn of Turold, or so Torquil believes. Heir to the combined kingdom of Turold and Eirig." He shook his head in disbelief at the circumstances that had overtaken him. "From fugitive to king's service in one morning. I never thought to see such a day. I must say it's nice to be able to walk about freely in the daylight once again."
Ergo cared little for Bardolph's musings, full as he was now of his own fearful misgivings. "Oh dear, oh my. Oh no. I threatened to turn him into a toad. He might have done anything. He might have ordered my head chopped off."
Bardolph instantly assumed a somber mien. "As a matter of fact, I seem to recall some conversation to that point, friend. Yes, I remember distinctly now. He and Torquil were chatting and he reflected upon that very business."
"What—what did he say?"
"He did order it. Your head to be cut off, I mean. He told Torquil, who referred it to me. I'd just forgotten all about it until you reminded me. 'Bardolph,' he said, 'chop that little man's head off. He'll never miss it.' " As he spoke he was sliding a very long, gold-plated dagger from his belt. Now he thumbed the shiny edge and eyed Ergo speculatively.
Ergo backed away from him. "Stay away from me, you bloodthirsty hooligan! King's orders or no king's orders, I can still turn you into a toad."
Bardolph took a step toward him, smiling and fingering the blade meaningfully. "Or a pig, perhaps? I've seen your work and thus am quaking in fear. Come, make yourself useful and compliant all together. Turn yourself back into a pig. It's been some time since I've enjoyed fresh bacon."
"I'm warning you, I—" He stopped, frowned, and began sniffing at the air.
"What is it?" Bardolph asked curiously.
"I'm not sure. The fragrance of heaven, maybe."
Bardolph favored him with a look of disgust and slid the dagger back into its scabbard. "Well, don't linger too long over it or you'll find yourself left behind." He increased his stride and moved up to talk with Kegan.
Ergo fell off to one side. Still sniffing, he angled into the bushes, shoving branches aside as he progressed. A bush heavily laden with dark, pungent blotches soon came into view.
"Gooseberries! Ripe ones," he added in a tone usually reserved for funerals. He plucked one, popped it into his mouth and chewed. An expression of pure bliss came over him. "Ah, the nectar of paradise. Providence has taken pity on me and has seen fit to compensate me for the travails of the past days." He began picking at the bush, shoving gooseberries into his carry-pouch and every available pocket.
So intent was he on his task that he paid no attention to the rustling in the bushes nearby. When the crunching of leaves and twigs underfoot became too loud to ignore, he turned just in time to see the black face of a Slayer staring down at him. A handful of gooseberries fell to the ground, forgotten.
The Slayer stepped out of the copse. Ergo looked around wildly, too terrified to cry out and certainly beyond attempting any incantations. Big as the Slayer was, it seemed certain to remain unaffected by any mumblings he might muster, even if he succeeded in finding his voice.
Bending over, he grabbed up a broken branch and brandished it in the Slayer's direction. Its hand dropped to the battle-ax tied to its waist.
The bush on Ergo's left moved. Reflexively, his gaze moved from the Slayer to the bush, to see an enormous cyclops step into the clearing. He was holding a tree-sized trident, or so it appeared to Ergo. All this was too much for an essentially gentle mind. Ergo's eyes rolled up and he fell unconscious to the earth.
The Slayer too had taken note of the Cyclops's appearance, but its reaction was not what Ergo would have anticipated. It let out a violent hiss, then whirled and retreated, crashing madly through the bushes. The cyclops considered its departure for a moment, then moved forward to bend over Ergo's crumpled body. Fingers touched Ergo's forehead. Then the one-eyed giant turned and hurried off in pursuit of the fleeing Slayer.
Colwyn turned in his saddle to look back along the line of men. He spoke to Torquil. "My friend is lingering longer than usual."
"Perhaps he had business in the trees," said Torquil noncommittally. Bardolph overheard and moved closer.