God of Fools! Darad was glowering at the troll. Rap had never considered that the warrior might have the same sort of racial prejudice as the slave-owning imps of Casfrel, but brains were not his strong point. If he was going to treat the sorcerer as subhuman, then there might be very considerable trouble in store.
“Not as big as Mord was,” Darad growled. “Can he fight or is he one of those sissy ones?”
Thrugg’s muzzle opened hugely. “Try me.” He spread his arms and drooped into a wrestler’s crouch.
“Hold it!” Rap shouted. He had retrieved his boot, but both his legs were going to fall off at the knees soon. The battle in the ambience was flaring brighter and noisier, obviously headed for a climax as the Covin brought its stupendous power to bear. “Roughhousing can wait until later. Let’s get going before I freeze. Urg, Norp, this is Darad. Now come on, all of you. Shoo those ponies, Thrugg. Then lead the way.”
Darad was a sadistic killer with the brains of a crocodile and the loyalty of a pit bull—just the sort of companion a man needed in a tight spot. He would be useless against sorcery, of course, but very functional if the legionaries came in pursuit.
And the old rascal would be really handy if there were bears around.
4
At Kribur, Gath was walking across the dwarvish camp in the dark, helping Kadie around the obstacles—tent ropes and ditches and things. Mom was following close behind. They were doing much better than their guards, except for the ones with lanterns. He couldn’t see in the dark like a real sorcerer, but he knew which steps meant fall down and which steps did not, so his prescience was almost as good as farsight for this sort of thing. It was hard work, though, and giving him a headache.
He was glad to have his clothes on again. Most of them weren’t his, just things he’d picked up in the last week, some of them bloody or burned at the edges and smelly, but it was nice not to feel like a shelled oyster.
Morning was near. The moon was just setting, a blur in the clouds. Snowflakes swirled in the air. There was a lot more daylight here than there was back north in Krasnegar at this time of year. He had stayed up all night! He had never done that before. He and Kadie had tried once or twice, and they’d always fallen asleep without meaning to. Tonight Kadie had slept for a while during the long arguments and the waiting, but he hadn’t. It was a funny feeling, sort of dizzy-making.
“Where are we going, Gath?” They’d been told not to talk, but there was no one close enough to hear Kadie’s whisper.
“To a little house.”
“Why? What happens?”
She was scared. So was he, but he must try to sound brave and cheer her up. His new man-voice was good for that.
“That’s where they’re going to have their meeting. Don’t know what happens inside, though.” It was a creepy feeling. He could foresee arriving at the cottage, but when he went inside everything stopped, as if someone was waiting there to bang him on the head with a club. He’d had prescience for almost a year now and he felt blind when it was taken away like this. Fortunately, he’d met that same blankness before, home in Krasnegar. When he was going to leave the castle, he could not see what would happen outside. Outside, he could not tell what would happen when he went in again. Whenever Brak had come hunting for him, he’d had no warning until Brak actually stepped through the gate.
“Why not?” Kadie sounded annoyed, as if he were being difficult. A year ago she’d been taller than he. Now he was a lot taller than she was. He was turning out jotunnish like his coloring, going to be a big man. Bigger than Dad, even, perhaps.
He tried to explain about the castle back home, and how Dad had said it was because the castle was shielded, magicproofed the way a boat was waterproofed with tar. Obviously this runty little building was shielded, too. That seemed to have been what the arguments had been about, or some of them. The old goblin Long Runner had insisted that they all go to this cottage to hear what the imperor wanted to tell them. Some of the dwarves had argued a lot, but Death Bird had agreed with the old man and won in the end. So now everyone was walking to the cottage.
Gath steered Kadie around a pile of firewood. “Must be a sorcerer’s house,” he concluded. “Or it was a long time ago. Shielding lasts a long time, Dad says.” Nice to sound knowledgeable.
“You knew about the goblins!” Kadie said crossly. She was grouchy because she had been asleep, and perhaps because she was tired and frightened. He wasn’t going to lose his temper with her, though, at least not before they reached the cottage.
Tricky ditch here . . . “What goblins?”
“When Brak knocked you out, you told Mom about the goblins at Kinvale. We didn’t believe you.”
“Don’t remember.”
“Well, you did!”
“Must have foreseen it outside then.” He’d had his fight with Brak at Oshi’s house, outside the castle. Maybe he’d foreseen the goblins then and been too busy to notice. Now he had stopped hurting, he could chuckle when he thought of the fight with Brak. It had been worth being knocked out although not worth what had happened as a result. Maybe it had been silly. He thought Dad would say so, if he knew.
“Wasn’t it wonderful how Mom saved the imperor?” Kadie sighed. ”Just like Princess Taol’dor rescuing Prince Ozmoro from the cannibals!”
Gath hoped the imperor stayed saved. The meeting in the cottage must be going to last a long time, because he couldn’t foresee coming out again.
The little house must have more magic than just a shielding spell on it; it was the first unburned building Gath had seen since leaving Krasnegar. Just two rooms with stone walls and a thatched roof, it stood a short distance outside the dwarves’ camp, all by itself. If there had been sheds or fence or trees, they had gone for firewood. Now there were guards all around it, to protect the goblin king and the dwarvish general when they arrived. Light shone welcomes in the little windows, and the wind swirled sparks from the chimney pot.
Stepping inside, into brightness and heat, was a real shock for Gath. Prescience crashed in upon him—all the things that were going to be said. He couldn’t sort it all out. It was like waking up and trying to remember everything that had happened the day before all at once. One of the dwarves was ordering him to go to a corner . . .
He spun around. “Mom! Dad’s all right! The imperor met him in Hub—”
The dwarf threw him into the corner. He struck a wall and tumbled to the ground.
That hurt! He rolled upright with his jotunn blood bubbling. The dwarf had stopped being an armored soldier and was just an ugly, squat old man a lot smaller than Brak. Gath’s legs twisted under him, his hands found purchase on the floor, and he was almost into a leap when Kadie flopped down on top of him.
“No! Gath!”
Then Mom huddled in on his other side and took a firm grip on his shoulders. Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he was smart. Maybe he was just too tired. He didn’t struggle much. He pounded the floor a few times with a fist and then forced himself to unwind. He gave Mom a smile and saw her relax, also. He didn’t lose his temper very often, but it had been a long day and a man could only take so much from those bowlegged hairy runts . . . He always tried not to behave like a jotunn. He knew that fighting an army of dwarves single-handed was the sort of thing that would make sense to a jotunn, but not to anyone else.
He stayed sitting on the ground between Mom and Kadie because there was no furniture. They weren’t allowed to talk. Didn’t matter to him—he had all the conversations for the next hour or two to foresee . . . fore—hear?
Dad had gone to Hub and met the imperor. They’d parted before Winterfest, but Dad had been all right then. That was good! He squeezed Mom’s hand to comfort her. Now Death Bird was arriving, with the old man, Long Runner, and another goblin, Moon Baiter. Stupid names! And General Karax had come in, and more guards brought the imperor. They’d untied him earlier and given him something to eat. He was still as filthy as a gnome, but he wasn’t behaving like a prisoner in great danger. He looked pleased. He should! Without Gath’s prescience he’d be a heap of charred pieces by now.