Donnag harumphed. "Very well, Lady Fiona. You and the Ergothian will set out in the morning for Knollsbank." The chieftain pushed himself away from the table. "We've eaten already. But our cook has a fine meal ready for you, Maldred, when we are finished. And now perhaps you and Dhamon Grimwulf will join us in our library, so we can discuss other matters."

Rig continued to stare, refusing to eat any of the sumptuous fare that Donnag provided. "I don't like this at all," he muttered. "You've no clue who you're dealing with, Fiona. Donnag's cruel. He taxes the humans and dwarves who live here to the point of breaking them. What he does is…"

"His concern," Fiona said. "This is his country. What would you have us do, overthrow him?"

Not such a bad idea, the mariner thought.

The library was at the same time grand and appalling. Three walls were covered with shelves that stretched to the top of a fourteen-foot-high ceiling. Each shelf was crammed with books, the spines of which were labelled in the common tongue, as well as elf, dwarf, kender, and a few languages Dhamon did not recognize. Some were histories, others fanciful tales of fiction. A thick tome embossed with gold was about the art of warfare. On a quick inspection, it appeared none were marked with the buglike characters that could be found on Bloten's business signs. Perhaps ogres did not write books, Dhamon mused.

The books smelled musty and were covered with dust and cobwebs, hinting that none were ever read, only looked at and possessed. Had they been well cared for, they would have been worth a veritable fortune in any reasonably sized city of Ansalon.

The fourth wall was decorated with helmets of silver and black plate-souvenirs from Solamnic Knights and Dark Knights. A full suit of Dark Knight armor stood vigilant behind an overstuffed armchair that Donnag settled himself into.

Near the chair hung a great two-handed sword, which Maldred lifted down from a rack. Its pommel was shaped like a knobby tree trunk, and chunks of polished onyx were set into the whorls. He checked it for balance and swung it in a level arc, nearly tipping over a pink marble column holding a bust of Huma.

"Take it. The sword is yours, Maldred," Donnag said. "We give it to you to replace that which Dhamon Grimwulf said you lost in the valley of gemstones."

Maldred ran his thumb along the blade, cutting the skin and drawing blood.

"And the sword I am seeking, the one I sought this audience for?" Dhamon stood in front of the chieftain, facing him with his hands on his hips.

Donnag cocked his head.

"The sword that belonged to Tanis Half-Elven."

"Ah, that sword. The one that can find treasure. We have heard of the weapon."

"In your stables is a wagon loaded with…"

"Uncut gems from our valley," Donnag finished. "We know. Our guards informed us before dinner. A most admirable haul. We are quite pleased. And impressed."

"And it's more than enough to purchase the sword that tales say is in your possession."

Donnag drummed his long fingers against the arms of the chair. Dhamon noted the fabric was frayed in places and bits of stuffing threatened to spill out. "Indeed, the tales are true. We have the sword of Tanis Half-Elven."

Dhamon waited patiently.

"But why should we give up a sword that can find treasure? We love gold."

"I've brought…"

Donnag waved a ring-encrusted hand to silence him. "Yes, yes, you've brought us more than enough for its purchase. Indeed, we will be glad to be rid of the thing. We fear if you learned of it, others will, too. We do not wish the notoriety nor the steady stream of humans, elves, and whoever else might deign to come here in search of it-and who might demand it by force rather than offer to pay. We are too busy to cope with such nonsense." Almost as an afterthought, Donnag said, "Besides, our hands are too large to wield it. We prefer weapons of greater substance." The chieftain glanced at the sword Maldred was still admiring. "And we haven't the time to plod through ruins trying to use it to gain more wealth."

After a moment more, Maldred eased the two-handed sword into the latticed sheath on his back. "How did you come by it? This sword Dhamon wants?"

A deep chuckle escaped from Donnag's doughy lips. "We come by many treasures. This one from a little thief with no spine. He stole from the dead rather than from the living. And then he sought to sell his prize to me." Softer, he added, as a smile spread across his stern face, "The little thief is with the dead now."

Donnag rose to tower over Dhamon. Dhamon didn't flinch, tilting his head up to meet the steely gaze of the chieftain. "We will consider this fabled sword yours, Dhamon Grimwulf-more because you are a friend of Maldred, whom we accept as one of our own, than because of your wagonful of gems. Still, before we hand it over, we must require an errand of you."

"And what is this errand?"

"We want you to accompany your two human friends into the mountains. To the goatherders' village, Knolls-bank. We want you to make sure they live up to their word of stopping the raids. Help your friends deal with the wolves."

"Rig and Fiona are not my friends."

"But they are your kind," Donnag swiftly returned.

"I've no desire to remain in their company. All I want is the sword. You've said I more than met your price."

"But we do not trust the Knight and the dark-skinned man. If they indeed make good on their word of helping the village, we will give the Knight her ransom-only because her notion of buying her brother's freedom amuses us. Then, too, we will give you the sword."

Dhamon frowned.

"And more," Donnag continued. "We will give you a few other trinkets from my treasury to sweeten the deal. For your trouble of helping my loyal subjects in Knollsbank."

Dhamon's jaw clenched. His eyes darkened and narrowed and his voice grew threatening. "I'll take the sword now and accompany Fiona and Rig. But I want the sword up front."

Donnag shook his head. "We make the rules in this city, Dhamon Grimwulf. You can demand nothing of us."

"You do not trust them," Dhamon said evenly. "How can I trust you?"

"Oh, you can trust him." This came from Maldred, who stepped from behind the ogre to join them. "On my word, Dhamon Grimwulf, you can trust Chieftain Donnag."

"Done, then," Dhamon said, extending his hand. "We will tend to your village of goatherders, and then we'll conclude our deal." He pivoted on the balls of his feet and strode quickly from the room.

When he was out of sight, Maldred turned to Donnag. "I don't understand. Why the interest in helping a village of goatherders? I've never known you to be so concerned about the peasants in the mountains. Or to be concerned about anyone, for that matter."

"We are not concerned," Donnag returned, gesturing with his fingers as if he were shooing away an insect.

"Then why…"

"You are not to go with Dhamon Grimwulf and the others. Do you understand? Neither is Ilbreth. Stay here, Maldred, in our palace."

Lines of curiosity spread across Maldred's forehead.

"Those three will not be returning from Knollsbank," Donnag continued. "We've sent them to their deaths. We will keep the precious gemstones and the sword of Tanis Half-Elven, and we will rid ourselves of all of those bothersome people in the process."