Bearers of the Black Staff

“Not to me, anyway,” the big man agreed. “Taureq Siq, is it? Now, there’s a finely wrought piece of nastiness. Here’s what I can tell you. Taureq is not someone you can trust. The Drouj are the dominant Troll tribe in this part of the world. They’ve subjugated all the other tribes and made them accept Taureq as their Maturen. He’s got a serious problem with power, that one. Wants to dominate everything and everyone. If he gets into your valley, you better plan on finding a new home. You say he’s camped off to the north?”


“Was a week or two ago. He might have moved closer to the mountains by now. He’s expecting a meeting with us in about six days. The girl’s being held as insurance. Of course, holding her isn’t going to get him what he wants, but I can’t just leave her.”

“Sounds like you have a reason for rescuing this girl that goes beyond what you’re telling me.”

“I do. It has to do with the boy. I can explain it, if you want.”

Deladion Inch shook his head. “Don’t bother. I can get you past the watch and inside the Troll camp, but I don’t know about finding your girl. The Drouj are a big tribe—thousands strong. Finding where they’ve got her won’t be easy. You don’t happen to speak the language, do you?”

“Not theirs. Our Trolls speak something else.”

“Guess you can’t ask them where she is, then. Too bad.” He stood up. “Let’s have something to eat while I think about it.”

They set about preparing a dinner, Inch fixing the food while Sider set the table with plates and utensils. He was surprised to see that his host had a large collection of mixed pieces of china and glassware, salvaged somehow from the contents of these ruins or others, all of it neatly stacked and shelved. He wouldn’t have thought it of Inch, but then he’d always suspected that the big man was more than he seemed.

They ate, washing down the food with more glasses of ale. Sider was growing sleepy and changed out his ale for water. Deladion Inch laughed on seeing him do so, remarking that his guest had a low tolerance of spirits and common sense both.

“I’m curious about this Troll that got the boy free,” the big man said after they had set aside their plates. “How did he manage that?”

Sider shrugged. “According to the boy, he was part of an exchange of eldest sons. His father sent him to the Drouj in exchange for Taureq’s eldest. It was some sort of pact to solidify an alliance.”

Deladion Inch laughed. “That’s a new twist on things. Taureq normally doesn’t form alliances; he simply crushes his enemies. What tribe of Trolls did he make this alliance with?”

“Karriak.”

“Karriak?” Inch repeated carefully. “You must have heard wrong.”

“Maybe. I only heard the story once.”

“Reason I say that, the Drouj wiped out the Karriak several years ago. Every last one of them. Taureq and his sons saw to that. I remember hearing about it. Pretty ugly stuff.”

Sider stared at him, the first faint twinges of concern surfacing. “Maybe I misheard. Might be another tribe, then? I think Taureq and the Maturen of the other tribe were related. Or the one split off from the other some time in the past.”

Deladion Inch studied him wordlessly for a moment, his brow furrowing. “What’s the name of this Troll, Sider?”

The Gray Man saw it coming at him through a flash of understanding, but couldn’t do anything about it. “Arik Sarn.”

The big man nodded slowly. “Interesting. Something you should know. Taureq Siq has two sons. The younger is a bloodthirsty little weasel named Grosha. The older, the more intelligent and dangerous of the two, is called Arik.”

The two men stared at each in silence for a long moment, considering the implications. “Arik Siq,” Sider said quietly. “And we brought him back into the valley with us, to the Elven home city.”

Deladion Inch nodded. “A fox in the henhouse. Sounds like Arik’s way. I know them all, the whole miserable family. Grosha has Skaith Hounds for pets. Wanted to feed me to them once upon a time. Would have done it, too, but I had the flechette with me and warned him that his pets would be chopped meat if he set them on me. He hasn’t had a kind word for me since.”

“Describe the older son to me,” Sider said.

The big man did so. The description fit Arik Sarn perfectly. Sider thought it through. The Troll had tricked his captives into thinking he was a friend, using them to gain entrance into the valley, his intention all along. Holding Prue Liss hostage was just a subterfuge. What Taureq Siq needed was a pair of eyes and ears inside the valley to tell him what was going on. His elder son would gather what knowledge he could, and then he would use it against the defenders. He wasn’t waiting for a response to his demand. He was preparing for an attack.

Sider told Deladion Inch what he thought was happening, wanting to be certain he was right about this, needing another opinion that he could trust. It was quick in coming. “Always very smart about how best to do things, that one. His father relies on him for that. What are you going to do?”

Sider took a deep breath. “Go back on my word.”

“Which word would that be?” Inch looked vaguely amused.

“Promising not to ask you to get involved. Can’t keep that promise now. I need you to go into the Troll camp and bring the girl out.”