"Oh, I admit he's rough around the edges, but he saved my life."

The look of surprise was plain on Lord Stone's face, so the Hammer elaborated: "It's a rather longish story. Suffice it to say I was in the woods when a wyvern surprised me. It knocked me right off my horse and pinned me to the ground. I would have been a corpse had this foolish boy not put a woodsman's axe clean through the monster in one swing. In return for the deed, he asked me to make him as good a warrior as I am. I couldn't say no-not after he'd saved me." Ganithar smiled warmly. "But we'll talk about it more tonight. I want to get the road dust off my old hide. Tonight, my lord?"

"Tonight-if we must." Lord Stone turned to find his patrol reassembled. He nodded to both knight and squire, then pushed past them and rode away.

"Is he a great lord, like in the old tales?" Tomkin asked eagerly.

"His father was. That lad riding off has been a bit of a bully in the past. Only time will tell what type of ruler he makes." The knight narrowed his eyes as he watched the patrol ride away. "But something is terribly wrong with him. I think you and I will ferret it out during dinner."

"He wouldn't want me dining with the likes of you both."

"It doesn't matter what he likes. You're my squire and go where I go." Ganithar patted the boy on the shoulder. "You must learn to serve me. Loyal service is as important to a squire as the arts of war. Do you understand, boy?"

"Yes, sir, I'll always serve you to the best of my ability. I'll do whatever you tell me to do, Sir Ganithar."

"No, no, lad. That's not what I want. Try to anticipate what I need. Anticipation is vital in a warrior, too. Figure out what I need and respond to me before I ask. I'll teach you to do the same to your foes. That's the way of a good warrior. Now, let's prepare ourselves for some fine food. You know they grow some excellent watermelon here. It boasts some of the best in Faeriin-though the roses make a better symbol for the castle, eh, Tomkin?"

The squire nodded, only half-listening to what his master said, his mind caught up in the lesson the knight had imparted.

"Anticipate, that's what I need to do," Tomkin repeated softly as, now unchallenged, they rode into the castle.

"Two plates. Lord Stone obviously doesn't want me to dine with you." Dressed in full livery, with a two-handed broadsword strapped to his back, Tomkin felt decidedly overdressed and more than a little foolish as he gazed through the garden gate at the small table within.

"Nonsense, lad. Lord Stone has taken the time to serve us dinner in his fine garden. Admittedly, the garden has gotten rather smelly of late, but we'll both find out why at dinner. Another plate is easily gotten."

"No!" the squire squeaked for fear that the castle lord could hear them while they whispered outside the garden gate. "I couldn't eat in front of him. I'd be afraid of dribbling soup down my surcoat. Couldn't I just eat my meal with the horses?"

Ganithar, remembering his days as a squire, took pity on Tomkin. "All right, lad. You don't have to attend the dinner. But I want you to stay outside this gate and guard it with your life. No one is to disturb our dinner without my permission. I want to get to the bottom of the strange goings-on around here."

Much relieved, Tomkin took his post as the Hammer strolled into the garden and met Lord Stone.

"Anticipation, anticipation, anticipation," the boy muttered to himself over and over. "Should I draw my sword, I wonder? Or maybe I should stand inside of the door, not outside. Should I call for help if attacked, or die silently, defending my lord?" Sweat began beading on the squire's forehead as he looked in all directions, ready to sell his life dearly for the Hammer.

Standing just outside the garden, the woodsman-made-squire craned his neck this way and that, trying to see both the Hammer and the doorway into the keep. So caught up in his duty was the boy that he could barely hear the words of the two men in the arbor.

"I no longer rule this castle," Lord Stone said. "I serve another, and here it is!"

Tomkin caught a glimpse of a large melon resting on several rose stalks. It was unusual all right, but wild roses alongside melons were nothing strange in the forest. Tomkin didn't like roses very much, but he did like watermelon.

The leaves on the melon vine looked larger than normal, spear-shaped things as big as plates. Inch thick vines spilled out all over the plant. The bloated, blood-red roses seemed to be fashioned of impossibly thick petals coated with oil.

Tomkin tore his gaze away from the garden. Even the weirdest of plants must not distract him from his duty. If the Hammer wanted to eat dinner surrounded by weird plants, that was his choice. They'd both seen many stranger sights than that on the trail.

After surveying the area around the garden, Tomkin once again glanced into the arbor; he saw his master tugging at a rose vine connected to the melon. There were rose vines wrapped around his back, too.

The squire shook his head. What a silly game this seemed to be. He and friends held such contests of strength in the woods, but they used small trees to bend and snap; this melon-stalk didn't seem like much of a test for what he knew of his master's considerable strength. The scene also confused the squire, for the knight had laid strong prohibitions against playing with food-and that melon looked ripe for the picking.

Again Tomkin shook his head. Strange were the ways of his betters, and he was nowhere near experienced enough a warrior to judge them silly for it. He sighed and turned back to his watch.

"Anticipate, anticipate, antici-"

A shove from behind sent Tomkin reeling. Sir Ganithar and Lord Stone pushed through the garden gate, barely noticing that they'd knocked the boy down. The squire glanced back into the garden and saw the plates still heaped with food. A glance back at his master revealed a terrible look on the Hammer's face. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were glassy.

Their contest of strength must have become a squabble, Tomkin decided. Sheathing his sword, the squire followed his master away from the garden.

Sir Ganithar dismissed the boy's concern with a stiff-limbed wave. "No, nothing's wrong. You and I will be sleeping in the hall tonight. Tomorrow we have much work to do-and a trip to take."

That was decidedly odd. Just a few hours ago the squire had heard the Hammer order special baths to be prepared every day for three tendays. Ganithar had also ordered the fixings for a huge party. Tomkin himself had carried the invitations to all of the knights' local friends, and sent off even more to the High Moor Heroes' Guild.

Tomkin hoped that he hadn't done something to cause the argument between Lord Stone and his master. Perhaps, the squire realized grimly, I failed to anticipate something Sir Ganithar needed at the dinner. The knight must surely have been furious, for he left without eating a bite.

Sir Ganithar's chilly silence as Tomkin helped the knight prepare for bed only confirmed the boy's suspicions. Tomkin was miserable as he went about his chores: though he could barely lift the magical hammer, it was his duty to stow it so Ganithar could reach it easily if an attack came upon them at night. The special cloak of silence, boots of leaping, and belt of invisibility were entrusted to the squire every night, as well. The Hammer figured no one would ever suspect the young squire of holding such fabulous items.

Before he dozed off, the Hammer ordered his squire to sleep on a pallet outside the room's only door. Tomkin did as he was told, but only pretended to sleep. A short time later, hearing the snores of Sir Ganithar, he rose from the pallet. He donned the cloak to prevent the guard from hearing his movements. The boots would allow him to spring great distances and move as lightly as a feather over any floor. The belt, activated with a magic word only Ganithar and he knew, made his form vanish from the sight of man, plant, and animal. Thus girded, he could set about "anticipating" his lord's needs.