‹Offal will be quite satisfactory, yes. I can, of course, take some farmer's calf or pig, but offal will do nicely.›

As Piglet carried Macurdy into the inn yard, the stableboy hurried out to meet them. At sight of Vulkan, he disappeared back into the stable. Macurdy trotted Piglet over to it, and dismounting, led him inside. "Stableboy!" he bellowed.

"Yessir?" came a voice from the hayloft.

"Feed and water my horse. At once! Then groom him."

A tousled head appeared, of a youth in his early teens. "Your-horse, sir?"

"What else? Come now! Get about it!"

"Sir, I'm afraid, sir. Of-that other."

"He won't hurt you. I've told him not to. I'm Macurdy, back from Farside, and he's my traveling companion. His name is Vulkan."

The lad stood now, staring down. "Would you, sir… General? Marshal Macurdy? Would… would you ask him to stay outside, sir? I'm afraid he might forget what you told him."

Macurdy grinned disarmingly. "As good as done. Now come down and mind your duties."

The youth eased worriedly down the ladder and took Piglet's reins. Then Macurdy left, walking to the inn with Vulkan beside him. They entered the taproom as nearly together as the doorway allowed, Macurdy stepping in first, Vulkan a step behind. There was a scream from a serving girl, a clatter of mugs from a dropped tray, shouts of male alarm, the crash of benches falling over. Men scrambled to get more tables between them and the newcomers.

"Helloo!" Macurdy called. "Who will feed a hungry man?"

A florid beefy face peered from the kitchen door. "Get him to hell out of here!" it shouted, more angry than fearful.

Grinning, Macurdy turned. "Vulkan," he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "wait outside for me."

As if obeying, Vulkan turned and went outside, the only sound his hooves on the puncheon floor. But the move had nothing of submissiveness about it. Red eyes fierce, the great tusked face had scanned the room as he'd crossed to the door.

The innkeeper eased in from the kitchen. "Mister," he said, "that was a dumb-ass thing to do, bringing that beast in here."

Macurdy raised his eyebrows. This innkeeper was no ordinary man. "He's not a beast," Macurdy said, "he's a wizard. A giant boar and a wizard. And curious. He'd never been in a taproom before."

The innkeeper frowned. "How did you get him?"

"Get him? I didn't get him. We met in the woods once, in Oz. There I was, and there he was. Next thing we knew, we were friends. That was seventeen years ago, just before I went back to Farside. Then I came back to Yuulith again, and riding southeast out of Miskmehr, there he was, Vulkan himself, waiting by the road. Now we're traveling together."

"Vulkan? Is that his name?"

"Yep."

"How do you know?"

"He told me."

"He talks?"

"Not with his mouth. With his mind. He talks directly into my head. I could be deaf as a stone, it wouldn't make any difference. I'd hear him."

For a moment the innkeeper stood silently, digesting what he'd heard. "You've been to Farside and back," he said. "Then you must be Macurdy, right?"

"Yep."

"An innkeeper hears a lot of stories, and learns not to believe most of them. Tell you the truth, I didn't believe half of what they say about you. Some of it, yes. I know damn well what you did in Gormin Town, and later with Wollerda, but…" He glanced toward the door. "Seeing you with him, a lot else starts looking believable." He paused. "Could he talk to me?"

"If he took a notion to. He doesn't make friends easily."

"Where are you going now?"

"To Teklapori, to see Wollerda. Vulkan sees the future a lot better than I do, though a lot of times it's foggy to him, too. He says it looks bad. Threatening. Wollerda needs to know."

The beefy face frowned with concern. "Huh! Another ylvin invasion?"

From outside the inn, Vulkan's mind spoke to Macurdy's. ‹Not ylvin,› it told him.

"Not ylvin," Macurdy said. "Beyond that we don't know yet. But we will."

"Huh! Well, if it's not ylvin, I'm not going to worry about it."

"Good idea. There are times for worrying, and there are times to eat. Your boiled cabbage smells pretty good. With a couple thick slabs of roast beef, and a mug of beer. And four inches of a loaf soaked with beef drippings. And for my friend, five teklotas worth of raw beef. That way he won't need to-ah, kill anything till we get away from here."

His money was shrinking, and he decided to skip Gormin Town. That way they'd reach Teklapori that evening, and Wollerda would fix him up.

As Macurdy had expected, the innkeeper provided Vulkan with more like ten teklotas worth of beef. Probably "kill anything" had been the key phrase. Macurdy felt quite good about his performance. As they started east again down the Valley Highway, the two companions talked.

"I've got to admit, I enjoyed that little game back there," he said to Vulkan, and paused. "Tell me again why we need to make a big impression-make people think I'm more than I am."

He could sense the giant boar's mental frown. ‹My friend,› Vulkan said, ‹appropriate modesty is honesty about one's abilities and accomplishments, and the absence of swagger. As for 'making people think you're more than you are'…

‹When you first arrived in Yuulith, you were made a slave. Then, by talent and force of character, you were accepted into the Wolf Springs militia, something nearly unheard of for a slave. As a trainee you excelled so remarkably, you were sent to Oztown, and accepted in the Heroes-which was quite unprecedented. There, again by talent and strength of character, you rendered your sergeant so jealous…›

"Wait a minute! I didn't tell you all that. Some of it, but…"

Vulkan cut him short. ‹You are not my only source of information. I overhear thoughts not even spoken. I have even eavesdropped on the Dynast; listened to the ravings of unhappy Keltorus; and conversed openly with a friend of yours named Blue Wing.› He paused, allowing Macurdy time to assimilate. ‹Who was it that freed Tekalos, my friend? Admittedly Wollerda deserves at least as much of the credit as you, but he started with a following. You started with two runaway Ozians, three dwarves, and a great raven.

‹And when you'd freed Tekalos, you and Wollerda, you personally forged a league of allies who previously had seldom agreed on anything. Allies who even included Sarkia! You raised and led an army of contentious, sometimes truculent cohorts from throughout the Rude Lands and beyond. I am not sufficiently informed to evaluate your accomplishments in the great war on Farside, but I suspect they too were exceptional.

‹So do not disparage yourself to me. 'More than you are'? Not at all!›

He paused. ‹Meanwhile I have not responded to your question: 'Why must we make a big impression?' First, over the years since your victories against the ylvin Empire of the West, the bonds among the kingdoms and tribes of the Rude Lands have loosened again, despite increasing commerce and the influence of the Sisterhood. They have loosened because of rivalries old and new, and because they no longer perceive a common threat.›

Macurdy's wide mouth pursed in thought. "Before when we talked about this, you said we needed to beef up my reputation because of my task. But you didn't know what my task was."

‹Only that you must meet a threat. A threat more serious than an ylvin army, even if the elder Quaie were still alive to lead it. I sense the vector, but lack the specifics.›

Macurdy looked at the creature beside him, its pace ill-matched with Piglet's. The big gelding's walk was faster than Vulkan's, who trotted to keep up. But so far Vulkan had seemed tireless. "Is there anything," Macurdy asked, "that you can tell me about this threat? Beyond it being big?"