"Because it didn't surprise you to hear there were ogres in the kingdom."

Camden's face reddened, and he clenched his fists. "What are you saying?" the king yelled. "That I allowed my daughter to fail into ogre hands?"

The scout quickly shook his head. "Not at all," he said. "But I thought that might explain why Runolf-"

"Runolf was here?"

"He stayed the night at my inn," Tavis replied, frowning Runolf was a good soldier, and it wasn't like him to neglect reporting his arrival to the king. "Weren't you expecting him?"

"Not… yet." The king's voice was weak, his lip trembling. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then focused his gaze on Tavis. "His report wasn't due until summer's end."

Though Tavis felt certain Camden was lying, he knew better than to say so. If the king wished to keep his business with Runolf secret, it was not a scout's place to interfere.

"Your Majesty, perhaps I should finish my report," Tavis suggested. Camden nodded, and the scout continued. "Originally, there were between eighteen and twenty-two ogres, but Morten put up a good fight and now only ten to fifteen remain. Their leader's a shaman- probably a cunning one-and he came specifically to abduct Princess Brianna."

The king raised his brow. "You seem to know quite a lot about these ogres."

"Even ogres leave a trail," Tavis replied. "I should also mention that it appears one of your subjects helped the ogres."

The king's eyes widened. "Do you know who?"

"Not yet," Tavis replied. "But it won't take long to catch them. I've a fair idea where to pick up the trail."

"You?" Camden asked. "You're no longer one of my scouts."

"Under the circumstances-"

The king shook his head. "No. Tend to your other duties," he ordered. "I'm sure that's what Brianna would want."

Hauk stepped to the king's side. "Your Majesty, my duties keep me well informed of people's comings and goings." the sergeant said. "There aren't any other scouts here, at least none of Tavis's experience. He's your best hope."

Camden replied without looking at the sergeant, "It won't delay us to summon another scout," he said. "I'm afraid it will take a few days to organize our pursuit."

"A few days!" Tavis burst out. "By then, the ogres will be deep in the Ice Spires! Give me a company of your guard, and I'll have the princess home by dawn!"

Camden's eyes narrowed. "You forget yourself, Innkeeper," he warned. "I am the king, and you have heard my command."

Behind the king, a distressed murmur rustled through the entourage. One of the earls, a rough-featured man named Wendel, even dared to step forward.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Your Majesty," Wendel said. "But most of us up north arc old enough to remember fighting ogre raiders, back before you bought them off!" He ran a nervous hand over his gray-streaked beard, then continued. "Tavis is right. If we don't go after the ogres now, they'll disappear into the mountains. We'll never see Brianna again."

Wendell's concern sprang from more than fondness for the princess, Tavis knew. Brianna was an only child, and so far Camden had failed to produce an alternate heir to the throne-this despite a series of ever younger and more beautiful queens. Romantically inclined courtiers whispered that the king's failure was caused by grief over his first queen's death. Whether or not that was true, Brianna's disappearance would have grave results for Hartsvale. It seemed every power-hungry earl could boast some tenuous claim to the throne, so the princess's well-being was all that stood between the kingdom and a struggle for succession that would make the War of Harts seem a skirmish.

It was several moments before the king faced the earl. "I appreciate your concern. Karl Wendel, but we have little choice." The gentle words were a surprising contrast to the anger in Camden's eyes. He ran his gaze over the entire group of earls, then continued, "Before anyone goes after these ogres, I'd like to know why they took my daughter. If any of you can answer that question, then we can send our armies after her."

The sour tone in the king's voice made it clear that he had no true wish to hear suggestions, so the earls offered none.

Camden gave them a patronizing smile. "This is the answer that comes to my mind: The ogres want us to give chase, perhaps so a larger group can catch our armies in the open, thus weakening the defenses of Castle Hartwick."

Earl Wendel's cheeks reddened, as did those of several other men old enough to have fought beside the king during the War of Harts. Camden had used his ogre allies to execute a similar ruse against his brother, with the result that Dunstan's castle had been captured and his forces driven from the land.

"But we must do something!" Wendel said. "We can't let them take the princess!"

"Perhaps Morten will know something useful," called Simon.

The priest was kneeling at Morten's side, ready to cast his spells. His assistants had shaved the bodyguard's heavy beard away from the horrible gash on his neck. They had also peeled Brianna's shredded-bark dressing off the firbolg's thigh, revealing the jagged lips of an arrow puncture. The skin surrounding the hole was red and disfigured from the fiery healing magic of the princess's goddess, but the injury looked as though it would trouble Morten for some time to come. Both wounds were surrounded by white foam left over from the cleric's purifying ritual.

Simon laid his silver staff over the hole on Morten's leg, announcing, "He'll be ready to answer questions in a moment."

Tavis received the news with mixed feelings. Certainly, he wanted to hear what Morten could tell them about the ogres-but he was not looking forward to the bodyguard's report about what had happened earlier in the Weary Giant's barn.

Simon uttered a string of mystic syllables, and a blue flash hissed down the length of his forked staff, filling the air with the smell of fresh rain. Crackling bolts of sapphire light danced over Morten's arrow wound. The hole's jagged lips joined together seamlessly, and even the burn caused by Brianna's healing spell vanished. The spell faded, leaving only a faint blue scar in the shape of a lightning bolt to mark the injury.

Several earls voiced their high esteem for Simon's magic, but the high priest paid them no attention. Laying the forked end of his staff over the gash on Morten's neck, he raised a wineskin and began to pour. As the red fluid spilled over the firbolg's throat, he called upon Stronmaus to change the wine to blood so the veins of a brave warrior might run full once more. A dazzling bolt crackled down from the sky and struck the rod. The pommel flared blue for a moment, then the red nectar grew dark and thick as it spilled into the wound.

Morten's breath grew deeper and more steady. His eyes fluttered, then he moaned. He smacked his lips, as though the wine were entering his throat through his mouth instead of a wound. When he tasted nothing, the firbolg's eyes popped open. He twisted his head to the side and squinted up at the high priest.

"Simon?" he gasped. "What are you doing here? Where's Brianna?"

"We're at the Earls Bridge," the cleric explained, his voice soft and patient. Still pouring wine over his staff, he continued, "You suffered a wound-"

"My wounds aren't important!" Morten said. "What of the princess?"

The bodyguard pushed himself into a sitting position, but lacked the strength to stay there and promptly crashed back to the ground. "What of Lady Brianna?" he demanded again.

Camden stepped to the firbolg's side. "We were hoping you could tell us," he said. The king waved his hand at Tavis. Basil, and Avner. "These three found you on Coggin's Rise. My daughter wasn't there."

Morten turned his head to glare at Tavis. The firbolgs eyes were ashamed and angry, as one might expect of a loyal bodyguard who had just learned of his failure, but they also seemed strangely glazed, as though the pain of his injuries had dulled his mind.