To all appearances, the castle was as impregnable as it was huge. Flying turrets hung from every corner, and between each pair of jagged merlons stood a ballista manned by a guard in helm and breastplate. Even the towers, scratching at the clouds like a titan's pearly lances, were constructed of granite blocks so huge a storm giant could not have toppled them.

Tavis looked back across the spruce-dotted plateau. A short distance behind him, Avner was leading the horse he had stolen from Earl Dobbin. A short length of taut rope ran between the gelding's saddle horn and Mortal's chest, pulling the firbolg along as though he were a cloud. Behind the floating bodyguard came Basil, staggering and wheezing, skipping forward every now and then as Blizzard nipped at his rump.

When they finally caught up. Tavis did not give them a chance to rest. "Stay together," the scout said. "We're almost there, and I don't know how the sentries will react if they see a verbeeg coming down the road by himself."

Basil's bushy eyebrows came together. "Perhaps I should return to Stagwick and collect my books-"

"Those are Earl Dobbin's books, not yours," Tavis reminded him. "And you won't be safe alone. There are a lot of patrols this close to the castle, and it could prove fatal if they came across you."

Without awaiting Basil's response, Tavis turned away. The road ahead ran down a narrow ledge cut into the cliffside. It passed before a small watchhouse chiseled from the living stone, then curved sharply onto a long bridge that spanned the Clearwhirl's wide chasm.

As Tavis's small company walked clown the road, three sentries stepped from the watchhouse door. In honor of the princess's birthday, they had polished their armor and weapons to gleaming silver, and over their breastplates hung ceremonial tabards of red linen embossed with the king's white stag. The two youngest men carried long halberds. The oldest, a veteran with gray hair, bore a silver-sheened battle-axe identifying him as Sergeant of the Earls Bridge.

The two youngest guards came a few paces up the road, then stopped and crossed their weapons to bar the way to the bridge. "The sergeant stayed behind, standing at the watchhouse door.

"Halt and explain yourself. Tavis!" the sergeant called, casting a suspicious eye at Basil. He made no mention of the strung bow in the scout's hand, for the loyalty of firbolgs-and that of Tavis in particular-was well known. "Where is Lady Brianna? Why do you have her horse and bodyguard?"

"The lady has been taken by marauders." Tavis peered over the crossed polearms, looking down the road at the sergeant. "That's all you need know to let us pass."

The sergeant shook his head and pointed at Morten's body, still floating in the air. "I can't let you cross," he said. "Not with a verbeeg runecaster in your company."

Tavis did not try to argue. The only thing that made humans more nervous than giants was giant magic.

"Then send word to the king of our arrival," Tavis said. He would have suggested that Basil wait here, but feared the verbeeg might do something foolish-such as try to return to Stagwick for his books. "Rune magic or not, he'll want to hear about Brianna."

The sergeant came up the road and took the halberd from one of his sentries. "You heard what Tavis said- and ask High Priest Simon to come." he said. "Maybe His Eminence can help Morten."

"As you order, Hauk."

"The sentry turned and sprinted down onto the Earls Bridge, a magnificent structure resting on two flying buttresses mounted into opposite sides of the canyon wall. When the guard reached the other side, he slipped between the half-open gates and disappeared inside. Within moments, curious citizens had gathered atop the castle walls, thrusting their heads between the merlons to peer at Morten's floating body and Blizzard's empty saddle.

The castle gates swung open, and Hauk's sentry came scurrying out. Behind him, two members of the Giant Guard, the stone giant Gavorial and the frost giant Hrodmar, peered out of the gateway. Though the archway was fifteen feet tall, the pair had to stoop to look through the opening, filling it completely with their torsos and feces. Gavorial's gray hide and bald head seemed a strange contrast to Hrodmar's milky skin and unruly yellow beard, but Tavis knew they had more in common than appearances suggested. Like all members of the Giant Guard, they had been sent by their chieftains to protect Camden. In return, the king allowed traders from the giant tribes to use Hartsvale as a peaceful gathering place.

ONCE Hauk's sentry had crossed the bridge and reclaimed his halberd from the sergeant, Gavorial's sonorous voice echoed across the chasm. "Keep an arrow ready for that verbeeg, Tavis Burdun!" he called.

"The king's safety rests in your hands!"

After Tavis pulled an arrow from his quiver, the two giants withdrew inside the castle. Gavorial and Hrodmar would not be coming across the Clearwhirl, for even the Earls Bridge could not support such a tremendous weight. To enter Castle Hartwick, true giants forded the Clearwhirl on the opposite side of the island, then climbed a long and wearing path to the Giants Gate.

A blast of trumpets rang out from the castle walls, then the king and his retinue appeared. A looming figure who stood more than two heads above the earls and court officials surrounding him, Camden was built as solidly as a castle tower, with thick, sturdy legs and hulking shoulders that bulged like a bear's beneath his ermine cape. His long strides carried him across the bridge at a brisk pace, leaving his retainers to scurry along behind.

Soon, Tavis could see that Camden had already donned his ceremonial crown in preparation for the evening's festivities. It was a gaudy band of gold with seventeen bejeweled points, one for each of the giant tribes that had pledged friendship to Hartsvale. From beneath this circlet hung the king's two hair braids, while he wore his heavy beard trimmed into the neat square favored by the nobility.

Camden stepped off the bridge, brushing by Hauk and the two sentries without a word. He stopped directly in front of Tavis.

"What's this about my daughter?" the king demanded. He was even taller than Brianna and could look Tavis more or less directly in the eye. "Where is she?"

Knowing of no easy way to report what had happened. Tavis said simply, "The princess has been taken by ogres."

Camden's face did not darken with anger, or pale with fright, or even go blank with shock. It fell with despair, as though nothing could be done about what the scout had reported.

"Ogres," the king repeated softly.

The reaction puzzled Tavis, for Camden was a bull of a man, given to epic rages and stormy rantings. To see the king take the news as he had was akin to seeing a badger lie down and whimper as the hounds came to tear it apart.

Camden's small entourage arrived. The retinue stopped a respectful distance away, but two men continued forward until they were within a single pace of their monarch. One was Bjordrek, whom Tavis had spoken with on two occasions, but the other the scout had never seen. The fellow was portly and bald, wearing so much gold jewelry that he sparkled like a sun dog in the afternoon light. He carried a silver staff shaped liked a fork of lightning, the symbol of the god Stronmaus.

Camden motioned the bald man toward Morten's floating form. "Simon, see to Morten."

Calling two assistants to help him, Simon slipped past Tavis and took charge of the floating bodyguard. The trio pulled Morten down the road to an area of level ground in front of the watchhouse, then pushed him to the ground.

As the cleric rubbed the rune off Morten's chest, Tavis turned his attention back to Camden. "Your Majesty, have you received other reports of ogres?"

"Of course not!" the king snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Why ask such a thing?"