"Macurdy," he said, "ye haven't told me where yer goin' nor why. But yewr a born commander, both in yer manner and yer thinkin', though ye don't flaunt it. And I have no doubt at all that whatever yer about, it's honorable.

"As for yew, Tossi, I suspect yew and yer wild cousins will find adventures enough to last yer lifetime. Which I hope will be long enough to have children to tell them to."

He looked into the crown of a roadside tree. "And yew, great bird," he called. "Knowledge of yer folk is part of our lore, though it's at second hand from the tomttu. We're too much inside the mountain to know ye first hand. But it's well known that yewr kind has a penchant for doin' that which, from time to time, influences events. Sometimes for good, sometimes not, but always honestly. Yer connection with this man is a favorable omen, and I wish ye well."

He turned in his saddle. "Macurdy, hand me your blade."

Macurdy did, and Kittul lay it across his lap (dwarves ride with their knees high), then sat with his eyes closed for a long minute, head back, beard jutting, his ruler's aura swelling upward like pale, purple-blue flame. Then he took Jeremid's saber, frowned a moment over it, and repeated the performance. And then Melody's. When he was done, he looked long at Macurdy before speaking. "It's a hazardous road you've chosen. That much I know, even if I don't know what it is. Much will happen that none of us can foresee. But what I've done with these will help." He gestured at Macurdy's sword. "There is more to refinin' weapons than just forgin'. And though it's not dwarf made, like theirs"-he gestured toward the cousins-"still it's better now than others made by tallfolk."

With that he tossed his head in a dwarvish farewell, turned his pony, and trotted off westward at the head of his party.

With Blue Wing scouting ahead, Macurdy, Jeremid, Melody, and the three young dwarves rode eastward in the direction of the Silver Mountain, the Sisterhood, and he supposed Varia. Before long they crossed a modest river, and shortly afterward, saw where hooves had left the highway on a narrow, well-worn trail that disappeared northward into the forest. It seemed safe to bet they'd never see Slaney and his crew again.

21: The Inn

Within an hour of leaving the skirmish site, they rode out into cleared farmland, the most Macurdy had seen in this world, with woods only here and there. A couple of miles southward, a dark strip of forest stretched from east to west as far as he could see, with more farmland on the other side. The river woods, he supposed. Northward at the edge of seeing were high hills dark with forest.

As they rode, he questioned the dwarves about the country they'd pass through. Tossi, being the eldest of the three, did most of the answering. This, he said, was the beginning of Tekalos, whose king was Gurtho. The oppressive ruler the bandit chief had mentioned, Macurdy realized.

Occasionally they met traffic, most seeming local. There were numerous tiny hamlets-clusters of farmers' huts and out-buildings-and here and there villages. Near evening they saw a rather large village ahead.

Tossi trotted his pony up beside Macurdy's. "Macurdy!" he said, "there's a decent inn ahead. I suggest we stop for supper, and spend the night."

"Feel free, you and your cousins, Tossi Pellersson," Macurdy answered. "The three of us will eat here, but our money's too short to stay under a roof at night. We'll camp by the road east of town, and meet you in the morning."

"Ye don't understand," Tossi said. "We folk who live in the mountain seldom travel without money. I'll pay for the rooms, and the meal too." Macurdy began to decline, but Tossi cut him short: "Think where I'd be tonight, if it wasn't for yew three. Dead in the woods, likely."

"Say yes, Macurdy," Melody broke in. "They probably have a bath house, and ale."

Macurdy agreed. And there was indeed a bath, but only for men. Melody said she'd share, but the innkeeper refused, looking worriedly at Macurdy's discolored face. He had a number of guests, he said, all of them male, and he feared if she bathed with them, there'd be fights, which could result in his being fined for encouraging disorder.

"How does your wife bathe?" Melody asked.

"In summer, in the walled courtyard behind our apartment, in a big tub. Otherwise in her own kitchen. If the lady would care to, you can use the tub in the garden."

Tossi offered to hire their clothes laundered, along with the dwarves', but they had nothing to wear while their clothes were being washed. So before supper, they went to the shop of a clothier, who sewed clothing of several sizes on speculation. Cottons were cheap enough that Melody and Jeremid covered the cost for the three of them. Macurdy had also hoped to buy an old dog from someone, some blind and feeble hound for a copper, to take out of town and shoot for Blue Wing. But the great raven had left when they'd arrived at the inn, so he let it pass.

Supper was better than he'd expected-a beef stew with assorted vegetables not cooked to pieces, and oatmeal mush with honey, cooked somewhat stiff, with bits of dried apples stirred in after cooking. By local standards, he supposed it was quite good. The pot room was well occupied, seemingly as much by locals as travelers, the ale as popular as the food. But their table, in an out-of-the-way corner, they had to themselves for a while, though it had seating for more. Macurdy wondered if his discolored face was the reason-that and his size and brawn. People might take him for a troublemaker. Or was it the dwarves they were leery of?

Later, while they ate, a man came and sat across from Tossi, and when the potboy came over, ordered supper and ale. Macurdy paid little attention to him till the man spoke to Tossi. "Excuse me, sir dwarf lord," he said quietly. "Do you deal in weapons?"

"Some in my clan do. What, specifically, are ye interested in?"

"Swords."

"Indeed? How many? When circumstances permit, I might speak to someone who could discuss the matter with ye while passin' through."

"Ah. How many indeed. It would depend on the price; my friends and I have limited resources. Probably not many."

Macurdy looked the man over. By Arbel's system of evaluating auras, this was a ruler of sorts, someone whom others tended to defer to. He wasn't sure how meaningful that was though; Arbel had said his was a "ruler's aura," yet he'd been a slave at the time. Just now, Macurdy decided, the stranger lacked money. He was more wishing than anything else. Although his aura reflected inner power.

The conversation ended with Tossi giving him an estimate. "I can't speak with authority though," he finished, "not bein' in the trade myself." The man thanked him and turned to his supper, and the dwarves left, saying they seldom drank more than a single ale in public. And when Jeremid and Melody had finished a second tankard each, the three refugees from Oz went upstairs to bed.

The dwarves shared one room and the tallfolk another, with a single large bed in each. Jeremid suggested they draw straws to see who slept in the middle, and Melody drew the short. After they'd lain down, she raised herself on one elbow and leaned over Macurdy. He could smell the ale on her breath. "Macurdy," she said, "your mouth looks well enough for kissing now," and lowering her face to his, kissed him sweetly, long and lovingly, while groping him. "Make love to me, Macurdy," she murmured.

"Melody, I can't," he said, moving her hand away. "You know that. And anyway we're not alone."

"Would you if Jeremid weren't here?"

"God, Melody, I'd like to, but it wouldn't be right."

She lay back down exasperated. "I've never in my life heard of anyone so damned difficult," she said.