"Your locket?" Cornsilk Tethersmeet squeaked in sur shy;prise. "What makes you think we have it?"

"I know you have it," replied the human grimly. "Now, one of you get it for me!"

"I'm beginning to think we'll just keep this supper for ourselves," challenged Keppli, huffily. "You can just build your own fire, if that's the way you're going to be!"

Ariakas refused to alter his course. Carefully watching the pair, he sidestepped over to their packs and flipped open the flap of the first one.

"Hey! You can't do that-that's mine!" shrilled the female kender, jumping to her feet.

Ignoring her protests, he rummaged inside the leather satchel, pulling out a horseshoe, a blacksmith's hammer, a gem-studded brooch in the ornate platinum image of an eagle, and several bottles and flasks that apparently contained food and drink.

"Stop it!" protested Cornsilk, stepping toward him.

Ariakas drew his sword with his free hand and raised the blade. The little fellow stopped, a scowl of concentra shy;tion wrinkling his face.

Plunging his hand into the second backpack, Ariakas pulled out a variety of boots-many of them too large for kender feet, and none with an obvious match-as well as a plush robe of soft brown fur. Finally his fingers touched a familiar leather-covered bundle.

"This!" he declared, pulling forth the chain. He allowed the gleaming locket to swing in the firelight, dangling before the startled kender. Orange glimmers danced across the platinum, and the rubies at the locket's corners glowed in reflection like baleful, accusing eyes.

"That's not yours!" declared Cornsilk Tethersmeet with a determined shake of his head.

"Do you remember where you got it?" challenged Ari shy;akas.

"Sure-I found it!"

"Where?"

"In the mountains-last night," explained the kender patiently, as if he believed that he could change the human's mind.

"You stole this from my pack while I slept!" Ariakas barked.

The kender's eyes widened in shock and indignation. "I did no such thing! Why, if it had been in your pack, then you stole it-and I found it there!"

Growling in irritation, the warrior shook off the bar shy;rage of objections. Sword raised, he advanced on Corn-silk Tethersmeet. The final measure of justice remained, and to him it mattered not whether the thief was human or kender. The little fellow's next words stopped him in his tracks, however.

"That locket belongs to the lady in the tower," the kender protested, vexed by Ariakas's lack of under shy;standing. "It's even got her picture in it! Why, I might even have remembered to give it back to her," he con shy;cluded with injured dignity.

"What lady?" inquired the human, intrigued in spite of himself.

"Why, the lady that the ogres of Oberon caught," explained the kender in exasperation. "They keep her in the tower over there." He gestured vaguely to the east.

"Who is she?" demanded Ariakas. He remembered the name Oberon, a bandit lord reputed to command a band of ogres to the north of Bloten. "And how do you know the locket's hers?"

"I told you who she is-the lady held prisoner by ogres! And I know it's her locket because she told me about it. She lost it before-or maybe it was stolen. She told me about those four big rubies in the corners, and the little clasp. Even that raven carved into the back. Plus, it's got her picture in it-right there! There can't be two lockets like that, can there?"

Ariakas resisted the urge to answer. "Tell me more about the lady."

"She's a princess, or a queen, or something," Keppli piped up. "I know that she's rich-or she was before the ogres got her and put her up in that tower!"

"Where does she come from?" the warrior pressed.

The two kender looked at each other and shrugged. "Go and ask her," Cornsilk Tethersmeet said, impatience registering in his voice. "Now, if you'll be kind enough to be on your way…."

"One more question," stalled Ariakas, the hilt of his sword nestling comfortably in his palm. "Where is this tower, this place where the lady is imprisoned?"

"Over there," declared the kender. "About three days travel, I should say. It's on the border of Bloten, but I think the ogres who live there are just some kind of rene shy;gade band. They have their own warlord-the one they call Oberon."

"How is it that you know so much about them?" in shy;quired Ariakas. He remembered Oberon's name with growing interest since Habbar-Akuk had mentioned the same brutal monster.

"Oh, we stayed there for a week last winter. They gave us a nice room, up near the lady's, where we could see for miles-all the way to the Lords of Doom, on a clear day."

"But then," Keppli interjected, "we heard them talking about us and, well, it wasn't very pleasant-"

"And we never did get to meet Oberon!" asserted the male.

"… not very pleasant at all," Keppli continued with a firm shake of her head.

"So we left," concluded Cornsilk. "As if those locks could hold anyone!"

"They hold the lady?" pressed Ariakas.

"Well, yes," admitted the kender, though he seemed prepared to argue the point. Then he shook his head. "So you see, you can't have her locket. If you'll just put it down-"

"I'm taking it. Nothing you've told me changes the fact that you're a thief-the worst kind of pilfering rogue, to sneak through the darkness and threaten a man while he sleeps!"

"Why, I-"

"Quiet!" Ariakas's voice became a roar, and the kender's mouth clamped shut in surprise. Cornsilk's dark, surprisingly mature eyes studied the warrior ap-praisingly-and with a total absence of fear. For some reason the kender's refusal to be afraid enraged the human. "Here's your justice, thief!" he barked, thrusting sharply with the sword.

Cornsilk was prepared for the move, but he hadn't anticipated the warrior's speed. The kender dropped and rolled to the side, but not before the tip of the sword ripped into the exposed side of his neck.

"Hey!" shouted Cornsilk, clapping a hand to the wound and staring in confusion at the bright, arterial blood spurting between his fingers. Then his eyes closed, and he sprawled to the ground.

"I will spare you," Ariakas said to Keppli, clasping the locket in his left hand as he held his sword at the ready.

Warily he eyed the female kender. "But pray remember this lesson before you steal again."

The fury in Keppli's eyes astonished him. She could not have blasted him harder by unleashing bolts of fire. In a steady, uncompromising voice, she taunted him. "Hail the human warrior, brave enough to murder! The goat who was his father would be proud! The sow that gave birth to him would squeal in delight!"

"Would you face your companion's fate?" he demanded, flushing angrily.

"It's nothing beside the fate in store for you!" she cried, her voice tinged with an edge of laughter. "Before the gods are done with you, raven wings will beat around your bones-lizards will crawl between your legs!"

"You're mad!" he snarled, slashing wildly at her, furi shy;ous as she skipped beyond range of his sword.

"Madness is a thing you should know!" she sang, fierce triumph ringing in every word, biting into Ariakas like the sting of a poisoned blade. "Blood of insanity flows through your veins-only the shade of a heart beats within you. Oh, yes-madness is a thing you know too well!"

Ariakas lost all vestige of control. He lunged through the dying campfire, hacking at the nimble form. Some shy;where in the back of his mind a voice of reason, of cau shy;tion, told him that this was dangerous.

Even so, he dived after Keppli, darting the tip of his blade across her heel, drawing a squeak of pain as she tumbled to the ground. He leapt, but she rolled away from him, and as he skidded to one knee, she bounced to her feet.

Cold steel gleamed in her hand.