This isn’t Troll country, Ulath.’
‘It is now. Let’s find a place to camp for the night.’
They built their camp on a kind of stair-stepped bench so that they had a solid cliff to their backs and a steep drop to the front. They took turns standing watch, and as the first faint light of dawn began to wash the darkness out of the overcast sky, Tynian shook Ulath awake. There’s something moving around in the brush at the foot of the cliff,’ he whispered.
Ulath sat up, his hand going to his axe. He cocked his head to listen. Troll,’ he said after a moment.
‘How can you tell?’
‘Whatever’s making all the noise is doing it on purpose. A deer wouldn’t crash around like that, and the bears have all denned up for the winter. The Troll wants us to know he’s there.’
‘What do we do?’
‘Let’s build up the fire a bit – let him know that we’re awake. We’ve got a touchy situation here, so let’s not move too fast.’ He pushed his blankets aside and rose to his feet as Tynian piled more limbs on the fire.
‘Should we invite him in to get warm?’ Tynian asked.
‘He isn’t cold.’
‘It’s freezing, Ulath.’
That’s why he’s got fur. Trolls build fires for light, not heat. Why don’t you go ahead and get started with breakfast? He’s not going to do anything until full daylight.’
‘It’s not my turn.’
‘I have to keep watch.’
‘I can keep watch as well as you can.’
‘You wouldn’t know what to look for, Tynian.’ Ulath’s tone was reasonable. It usually was when he was talking his way out of doing the cooking.
The light grew gradually stronger. It was a process that is always strange. A man can be looking directly at a dark patch in the surrounding forest and suddenly realize that he can see trees and rocks and bushes where there had been only darkness before.
Tynian brought Ulath a plate of steaming ham and a chunk of leathery-crusted bread. ‘Leave the ham on the spit,’ Ulath told him.
Tynian grunted, picked up his own plate, and joined his friend at the front edge of the rocky shelf. They sat and kept watch on the birch forest that ran down the steep slope beneath them as they ate. ‘There he is,’ Ulath said gravely, ‘right beside that big rock.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Tynian replied. ‘I see him now. He blends right in, doesn’t he?’
‘That’s what being a Troll is all about, Tynian. He’s a part of the forest.’
‘Sephrenia says that we’re distantly related to them.’
‘She’s probably right. There aren’t really all that many differences between us and the Trolls. They’re bigger, and they have a different diet is about all.’
‘How long is this likely to take?’
‘I have no idea. As far as I know, this has never happened before.’
‘What’ll he do next?’
‘As soon as he’s sure we know he’s there, he’ll probably try to communicate in some way.’
‘Does he know that you speak Trollish?’
‘He might. The Troll-Gods are acquainted with me, and they know that I run in the same pack with Sparhawk.’
‘That’s an odd way to put it.’
‘I’m trying to think like a Troll. If I can get it right, I might be able to anticipate what he’s going to do next.’
Then the Troll shouted up the hill to them.
‘What did he say?’ Tynian asked nervously.
‘He wants to know what he’s supposed to do. He’s very confused.’
‘He’s confused? What about me?’
‘He’s been told to meet us and take us to the Troll-Gods. He doesn’t have any idea of our customs or the proper courtesies. We’ll have to guide him through this. Put your sword back in its sheath. Let’s not make things any worse than they already are.’ Ulath stood up, being careful not to move too fast. He raised his voice and called to the creature below in Trollish. ‘Come to this child of Khwaj which we have made. We will take eat together and talk of what we must do.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I invited him to join us for breakfast.’
‘You did what? You want a Troll that’s no more than a few feet from you to start eating?’
‘It’s a precaution. It would be discourteous of him to kill us after he’s taken food from us.’
‘Discourteous? That’s a Troll out there, Ulath.’
‘Just because he’s a Troll doesn’t mean that he has bad manners. Oh, I almost forgot. When he comes into camp, he’ll want to sniff us. It’s polite to sniff him as well. He won’t smell very nice, but do it anyway. Trolls do that so that they’ll recognize each other if they ever meet again.’
‘I think you’re losing your mind.’
‘Just follow my lead, and let me do the talking.’
‘What else can I do, you clot? I don’t speak Trollish, remember?’
‘You don’t? What an amazing thing. I thought every educated man spoke Trollish.’
The Troll approached cautiously, moving smoothly up through the birch forest. He used his arms a great deal as he moved, grasping trees to pull himself along, moving with his whole body. He was about eight and a half feet tall and had glossy brown fur. His face was simian to a degree, though he did not have the protruding muzzle of most apes, and there was a glimmer of intelligence in his deep-sunk eyes. He came up onto the bench where the camp lay and then squatted, resting his forearms on his knees and keeping his paws in plain sight. ‘I have no club,’ he half-growled.
Ulath made some show of setting his axe aside and held out his empty hands. ‘I have no club,’ he repeated the customary greeting. ‘Undo your sword-belt, Tynian,’ he muttered. ‘Lay it aside.’
Tynian started to object, but decided against it.
‘The child of Khwaj you have made is good,’ the Troll said, pointing at their fire. ‘Khwaj will be pleased.’
