by Troy Denning
As Brianna’s lamp cast its flickering light over the low room, Basil cried, “A library!”
The gloomy chamber seemed a jumbled contrast to Castle Hartwick’s Royal Archives, where Basil kept two thousand volumes neatly ordered by title and content. Here, the books sat on the floor in knee-high stacks, spilled from open trunks, or lay agape on rough-hewn tables. In spite of the disarray, the spines of the tomes were in good condition, no pages were dog-eared, and open volumes were never piled atop each other.
Earl Cuthbert stopped a few steps inside the room. “I must ask you to follow my steps exactly,” he said. “I don’t allow the servants down here, so things are a bit cluttered. It wouldn’t do to have you tripping over my books.”
“Not at all,” agreed Basil. “We wouldn’t want to break a spine or rip a page.”
As the earl started across the room, Brianna heard Tavis whisper to the verbeeg, “Keep your hands at your sides, my friend. I don’t want you pawing Cuthbert’s books.”
“But there are so many volumes,” the runecaster objected. “There must be titles we don’t have in the Royal Archives.”
Brianna paused, sensing the potential for catastrophe. Like most verbeegs, Basil had little respect for private property. He also had a pronounced fondness for books. The queen did not want a repeat of the first time she had lain eyes on him, when she had found him in Tavis’s barn with a cache of stolen books lying at his feet
“Basil, do as Tavis says.” Brianna glanced over her shoulder to emphasize her command. The ceiling was so low that both giant-kin had to stoop over. “If you so much as open a cover without the earl’s permission, I’ll have you thrown into the lake.”
Basil looked at the stone floor. “Yes, Milady.”
“Is there a problem back there?” called Cuthbert He was already halfway across the room.
“Nothing to worry about, Earl,” Brianna replied. “We’re coming now.”
The queen caught up to Cuthbert and followed him on a zigzag course to an arched doorway on the other side of the room. As they passed through, she was amazed to discover that the earl’s library spilled into this chamber as well, but the books here were of a strange sort. The volumes were as big as serving trays, bound by fine copper wire, and covered with thin slabs of granite. They had pages of black mica, but there did not seem to be any kind of writing on the ebony, at least not in the volumes that Brianna saw lying open.
From the back of the line, Basil gasped, “Biotite folios!”
Brianna looked back to see the verbeeg kneeling at a table, running his index finger down the glistening black page of a book. A column of glowing symbols appeared wherever he touched, changing from ruby red to emerald green and sapphire blue before the queen’s eyes. The figures were as large as a human hand, with delicate loops and scrupulously curved arches.
The queen was about to utter a sharp reprimand when Cuthbert slipped past her. The earl stopped at Basil’s side and gave him a condescending smile. “I didn’t know verbeegs read Stone Giant.”
“The written language is properly referred to as Metamorpherie, and not many verbeegs do read it” Basil did not even look up as he corrected the earl. “However, I’m one of the few who do, and quite well. I’ll be glad to teach you.”
The patronizing grin vanished from Cuthbert’s face. “I’m doing quite well on my own, thank you.” The earl slipped his hand under the folio’s front cover, then grunted with effort as he heaved the granite slab off the table. Basil barely pulled his hand away before the heavy plate slammed down, closing the book. “But we are in a hurry to see Tavis off. Shall we continue?”
Basil frowned at the earl’s rudeness, but one glance at Brianna’s stern expression squelched any objection he had been preparing to make. The runecaster rose off his knees. “Of course,” he said. “You’re the host”
“Good.”
Cuthbert spun on his heel and resumed his position at the head of the line. He led the party past the remaining folios into yet another library chamber. A huge, glass-topped desk stood in one corner, while a long case filled with rolled parchments occupied the center of the room. Maps of all scales covered the walls like tapestries, showing everything from the entire continent of Faerun to the bottom contours of Lake Cuthbert.
The earl went to the far end of the chamber and pulled a map off a wall, then spread it out on the desk in the corner. The parchment, Brianna saw, portrayed Cuthbert Fief in intricate detail. Near the center of the fief lay Lake Cuthbert, with the castle perched on a craggy island near one bank. The long bridge that connected the citadel to shore was neatly outlined in black dashes to indicate it could be collapsed in an emergency. The hundred hills that surrounded the lake were shown in great detail, with every stream, cliff, terraced slope, well, and spring drawn in a careful, clear hand. The earl had even updated the map, marking each razed village with a tongue of red flame and the date it had been destroyed.
Most importantly, the map showed the mountain range that ringed Cuthbert Fief. Every peak was drawn as it looked from the keep roof, with its name printed alongside and, sometimes, a notation describing what one could see from the summit. The snakelike road that connected the fief to the rest of Hartsvale was shown, and so were all of the treacherous tracks used by hunters, shepherds, and anyone else with business in the high country. Three of these rugged paths crossed the northern range and extended into the Icy Plains beyond, but only a single trail crossed the mountains toward the safety of the south.
“Most impressive, Earl Cuthbert,” Brianna said.
“My siege stores may be lacking, but I do know my lands,” the earl said. He glanced at Tavis, then back at Brianna. “My queen, given the speed with which the giants surrounded us after failing to capture you in High Meadow, we must assume they have anticipated that you’ll send for help.”
Cuthbert laid a pudgy finger on the summit of Cuthbert Pass, where the main road crossed into the rest of the kingdom. The drawing there depicted the pass exactly as Brianna remembered: long and winding, with high cliffs flanking both sides and a narrow bottleneck in the center.
“And that means they would also block the only obvious route to safety and help,” the earl continued.
“But this route is not so obvious.” Brianna pointed to the single trail that ran over the mountains to the southeast. She leaned down to read the name beside it. “Shepherd’s Nightmare?”
“That’s right,” said the earl. “Aside from the road, it’s the only path back to Hartsvale. It’s not much of a track. The trail disappears into the stream in several places, and at the top it’s nothing more than a broken ledge clinging to the side of Wyvern’s Eyrie. I doubt the giants know about it, so I suggest Tavis take this route.”
The scout set his shoulder satchel and bow aside, then leaned on the table to study the map. “That’ll take me too far out of the way,” he said. Tavis traced a route running directly south from the castle, over a long, winding glacier that ended in a cup-shaped cirque. “I’ll go this way. I can scale that headwall in a day and be at Earl Wendel’s by dawn the next morning.”
“And you expect to bring an army back the same way?” Brianna inquired. “Two companies of my guard, plus whatever the northern earls can raise?”
The firbolg studied the map a moment longer, then shook his head. “They’re not scouts,” he said. “We’d lose more than half of them on the way.”
“Then you should go the other way,” Brianna recommended. “Unless you already know Shepherd’s Nightmare, the extra time will be worth it. When you return, it’ll be better to have someone who knows the way leading the army.”
“I intend to return ahead of the army,” Tavis replied. “It’ll take time for them to assemble—”
“Which is all the more reason they’ll need an informed guide once they’re underway.” Brianna reached up and touched the firbolg’s rough cheek. “I know you want to be here when the giants attack, but you can’t save me by yourself. For that, we need
an army.”
Avner slipped between Brianna and the firbolg. “Maybe I should go—”
“No!” Brianna and Tavis snapped their refusal as one voice.
The youth was undaunted. “Why not?” he demanded. “I’ve kept up with Tavis before, and I’m not likely to be much use when a hundred giants pound the gates down.”
Earl Cuthbert groaned.
“Avner, I said no.” Brianna pushed the boy away before he could get a good look at the map. In spite of her command, Avner was just wild enough to try following Tavis on this perilous mission. “It’s too dangerous.”
“And being here’s not?” Avner scoffed.
“It’s safer than defying the queen’s command.” Tavis gave the boy a stern glare. “Now promise that you’ll stay—or must I ask Earl Cuthbert to lock you in his dungeon?”
Avner exhaled sharply. “I promise,” he said. “But you’re making a mistake. It’d be safer with two of us.”
“Not if Tavis is successful,” said the earl. He tried to lay a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder, but Avner sloughed it off and slipped away into the shadows. Cuthbert accepted the boy’s surliness with a good-natured shrug, then looked back to the scout. “Would you like to take this map? It’s my only copy, but you’re welcome to it.”
“No.” Tavis propped his elbows on the desk and studied the area around Shepherd’s Nightmare. “If something happened to me, I wouldn’t want this to fall into the giants’ hands.”
The earl breathed a sigh of relief. “Then there’s only one more thing I can do for you,” he said. “Do you have everything you need?”
Tavis studied the map for a moment longer, then picked up his shoulder satchel and hickory bow. “I think so. Perhaps even more than I need,” he said. “This strikes me as too heavy for a long swim.”
The scout unbuckled his sword belt, but the earl caught his hand before he could remove it. “You can keep that, my friend,” he said. “You won’t have to swim—not tonight”
Brianna frowned. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “We discussed this already. A boat’s too likely to be seen.”
“He won’t need a boat,” Cuthbert replied.
The earl stepped over to a long map case in the center of the room and braced his shoulder against the end. A soft rumble reverberated through the chamber. The entire cabinet slid across the floor to reveal a set of mossy stairs leading down into a dark tunnel. The dank odor of lake water began to rise from the passage, and somewhere far below Brianna heard a tiny stream of water trickling through a rocky chute.
“A secret passage?” the queen queried.
The earl nodded. “It runs on a straight course toward Shepherd’s Nightmare,” he said. “The tunnel would be a little tight for most firbolgs, but Tavis should be small enough to pass.”
Tavis scowled. “I don’t recall seeing this on the Castle Registry.” The registry was an ancient collection of castle plans that Basil had uncovered in the Royal Library. At the verbeeg’s request, Brianna had sent an envoy to each of her earls to ask for updates. “You broke the law by failing to report it.”
The queen smiled at Tavis’s naivete. Although the scout had grown up among humans, he still suffered from the firbolg proclivity to view the law as sacred and inviolable.
“I think we can forgive Cuthbert that oversight,” Brianna said. She had never expected her earls to divulge all their secrets, but what each man had revealed told her a great deal about his loyalties. Cuthbert had reported his collapsing bridge and the murderholes that overlooked the waters at the base of his castle walls, and that was more than most earls had done. “However, I am disappointed you didn’t mention this earlier, Earl. It would have saved me a great deal of worry.” Brianna fixed him with a stern look.
Cuthbert shrugged. “This passage has been a family secret since long before you were queen and I was earl,” he replied. “I wanted to think matters over before violating an ancestral tradition.”
“Then I thank you for making the correct choice,” Brianna said, somewhat tartly.
“You should not need to thank him for obeying the law.” Tavis buckled his sword belt, then added, “And certainly not when it benefits him as much as his queen. Unless I return with help, the giants will flatten his castle.”
A crimson cloud settled over Cuthbert’s face. “If saving my castle were my only concern, it would be a simple matter to persuade the giants not to attack.”
Tavis’s blue eyes grew as cold as the glacier ice they resembled. “If you yield to that temptation, know that I will hunt you down myself.”
There was no need for either man to spell out what temptation. Now that it had become obvious that the giants were here for Brianna, they all knew that Earl Cuthbert could save his castle and his family simply by giving the invaders what they wanted. Of course, there would be a terrible battle between his own troops and the Company of the Winter Wolf, but that fight would be far easier to win than the one against the giants.
Tavis continued his threat. “I will make it my business to see your—”
“Tavis, I hardly think that’s necessary.” Brianna interposed herself between the two men. “Perhaps Earl Cuthbert doesn’t have his siege stores in order, but that hardly makes him a traitor.”
Tavis switched his gaze to Brianna. “A man who defies your law for no reason—”
“Then it was a poor law,” Brianna interrupted. “I know that Earl Cuthbert is a good man. Have you forgotten that he was one of the first to stand with us against my father?”
The scout’s eyes softened. “I remember.”
“Good,” Brianna said, genuinely relieved. Cuthbert clearly feared for his castle and his family, but the queen knew he would never betray her. He always sent his taxes to Castle Hartwick on time, which told her more about the man’s trustworthiness than how many dragons he had slain. “Now perhaps Avner and Basil should say their farewells.”
The queen turned and saw Avner standing at the edge of the lamp’s flickering light, but there was no sign of the runecaster. With a knot of anger forming in her stomach, she called, “Basil!”
The verbeeg’s flat feet paddled across the floor as he tried to sneak out of the folio room. A moment later, he appeared at Avner’s side, still stooped over because of the low ceiling.
“Yes, Majesty?” He arched his bushy eyebrows in a parody of innocence.
“I told you to leave Earl Cuthbert’s books alone.”
“But these folios are ancient They contain the entire history of the giant race!” he objected. “Quite possibly, they might tell us what the Twilight Spirit wants with you.”
“They don’t,” Earl Cuthbert replied. “I have read every volume, and there’s no mention of any such 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.”
