They were arranged from left to right, shortest blades to longest. The former included daggers, some of which were no longer than a few inches. The latter would have been impossible for Dhamon to use because of their size, though some of the largest and strongest ogres in Bloten might have managed them. More than a hundred daggers and swords in all, and all valuable either because of the workmanship, materials, or because they were richly enchanted from a time when magic was plentiful in the world. There were a few axes in the mix, also ornate, twin glaives, and a dozen dwarven throwing hammers.

Donnag sighed and reached up and carefully took down one long sword just above his head. He pivoted slowly, as if to let the blade dance in the light of the torches, and held it out. "The sword of Tanis Half-Elven."

Dhamon stepped forward and took the blade, his fingers reverently clutching a pommel that was striped with silver, bronze, and blackened steel. The crosspiece was platinum, formed in the shape of muscular arms that ended in talons grasping bright green emeralds. He passed it back and forth between his hands, feeling its perfect balance and noting the exquisite blade etched with dozens of images-wolves running, eagles in flight, great cats crouching, snakes entwining boars, horses rearing.

"A magnificent weapon," Dhamon said appreciatively. He pivoted, moving the blade with him, as if he were fighting an unseen foe. "A work of art."

"It suits you," Donnag said. "A famous sword for a famous swordsman-for Dhamon Grimwulf, who dared to make a stand against the dragon overlords."

Dhamon continued to work with the sword, then relaxed for a brief moment, holding the long sword parallel to his leg. He tightened his grip on the pommel, and then suddenly leapt forward, clearing in a heartbeat the space between himself and the ogre chieftain, and slamming his elbow into the ogre's massive chest.

Surprised and sputtering, Donnag stumbled, his shoulder striking a coffer and tipping it, sending coins and gems clattering across the floor. Dhamon kicked out as hard as he could at Donnag's unarmored stomach. The blow was enough to completely unbalance the ogre, and he fell heavily to his back, knocking over several small sculptures and shattering crystal vases.

Without pause, Dhamon shot forward again, grinding his boot heel into Donnag's stomach and sweeping the blade down to menace the ogre's throat. "Don't move," he hissed, "Or Blode'll be looking for a new leader." He cast a quick glance to the alcove-no ogres stepped out. "A leader who brings guards into his treasure room."

"What in the layers of the Abyss are you doing?" Mal-dred shouted. He made a move to approach, but Dhamon warned him back by pressing the tip of the sword in Donnag's throat until it drew a drop of blood.

"Keep back!" Dhamon returned. "This is between Donnag and me."

Even as Dhamon glanced at Maldred to make sure the big thief was staying put, Donnag acted. Using his great size to his advantage, he rolled to the side, dislodging Dhamon. At the same time, his massive hand caught Dhamon's ankle and he pulled, yanking him back into a marble pedestal and momentarily stunning him.

Maldred leapt over a small chest and tried to insert himself between Donnag and Dhamon. "Stop this!" Maldred hollered.

The ogre chieftain brushed by the big man, reached down and grabbed Dhamon's ankle again, hoisting him until he was suspended upside down, his dangling fingers brushing the stone floor.

"We shall kill him for this atrocity! We give him Tanis Half-Elven's sword and he tries to slay us with it! Unbelievable, this is! We shall kill him slowly and painfully!"

Maldred was at his shoulder. "There must be a reason, a fit of madness. He is my friend and…"

"… he has signed his death warrant!" Donnag ranted. "We shall skin him and leave his flesh for the carrion to feast on. We shall… argh!" The ogre doubled over and dropped Dhamon, who had regained his senses and managed to stab the ogre's calf with the pin of his sapphire cloak clasp.

Dhamon rolled away from the cursing ogre, fumbled about on the floor for the ornate long sword and crouched, ready to meet Donnag's charge. When it didn't come, Dhamon stood up and slowly advanced.

"How dare you, insolent human!" Donnag yelled. His ruddy face was reddened further by anger. "We shall…"

"… die if you don't give me the real sword of Tanis Half-Elven," Dhamon finished. He darted in and swept the sword at the ogre's legs, slicing through his expensive trousers and drawing blood.

The chieftain howled and retreated. At the same time Maldred rushed in, planting himself firmly in Dhamon's path.

"Get out of my way, Maldred," Dhamon spat each word with emphasis. His eyes were dark, his pupils invisible, his lips were curled in a feral snarl. "I've been deceived for the last time by this pompous, bloated creature!"

Maldred stood pat, ready to intercept his friend. "He leads all of Blode, my friend. He's powerful. He commands an army, here and scattered in the mountains." The words rushed from the big man's lips. "You can't fight him, Dhamon! Take the sword and run! Flee the city and I'll find you later."

"I'm not running anywhere." With that, Dhamon lunged to his right and Maldred stepped to meet him. Too late, the big man realized Dhamon's move was a feint. Instead, Dhamon spun to his left, feet churning over stone and coins, leg muscles bunching and pushing off.

Dhamon vaulted a long iron box and bowled into Donnag, knocking him back again. The ogre fell heavily to the floor, and lay awkwardly across a mound of steel pieces. Dhamon drove the pommel of the sword against the ogre's face, satisfied when he heard the bones crunch. Donnag moaned as Dhamon continued the onslaught, hammering the pommel down repeatedly and breaking several teeth. Again Dhamon pressed the blade to the ogre's throat, glancing over his shoulder at Maldred.

"Back off, Mai!" Dhamon hissed. Maldred was quick to comply. "I'll separate Donnag's head from his ugly royal shoulders without a second thought." Dhamon's chest was heaving from the exertion, his body slick with sweat. The pommel felt slippery in his grasp, and he pressed the blade down a bit more.

Maldred looked uncertain, glancing between his friend and Donnag. "Dhamon, leave him be. Let's get out of here. He's truly good for Blode. Kill him and you'll throw this country into one petty war after another. You've got the sword, plenty of gems. I know a hidden way out of the city and…"

"You don't understand, Maldred, I don't have the sword." Dhamon had moved his free hand to Donnag's throat, pressing on his windpipe. The ogre gasped and flailed about with his massive arms. Maldred crept close and looked down over Dhamon's shoulder into the chieftain's rheumy blue eyes.

"Is that true?" the big man asked.

Donnag didn't answer, couldn't as nearly all his air supply had been cut off. But the expression in his eyes served, and Maldred nudged Dhamon. "Get off him." Maldred's words were cold but commanding, and after a moment's pause, Dhamon relented. Still, he kept the long sword aimed at Donnag's thick neck.

The ogre chieftain rubbed his throat and glared at Dhamon, swallowed hard, and then made a move to get up. This time it was Maldred who kept him in place, setting his foot squarely on the chieftain's chest. He spoke to Dhamon. "How do you know that's not Tanis's sword?"

"I know." Dhamon studied the ogre's ugly face. "I know because I know Donnag. He deceived us about Knollsbank's woes, he intends to deceive Fiona. The truth and he are strangers, Maldred. Why would he give me the real sword when he can deceive me with a pretty piece like this?" Dhamon spat at the ogre and tossed the sword away. He drew the broadsword he still carried, the one stolen from the hospital, and waved it in front of Donnag's eyes.