Lord Toede

"It's… pt… very good… pt…" said Groag, trying to spit out little bits of grit. "Though next time tell the lads they should skin the vegetables, since it… pt… gets rid of most of the dirt."

Renders nodded as if sage wisdom had been imparted to him. "I'll tell them it was a good first attempt. But they were a bit… ah… lavish with our remaining stock. I'm afraid that someone will have to return to Flotsam to purchase some supplies sooner than, ah, expected."

The hairs on the back of Toede's neck immediately went up.

Renders continued, addressing Groag. "You can take the horses, and, ah, be there and back in four days. We should be able to hold out that long. You can take your, ah, your friend along." Renders motioned toward Toede, who rose to his feet.

"Advisor, actually," said Toede, smiling broadly. "We haven't had proper introductions yet. You can call me Underhill." He held out a hand.

Renders admired Toede's outstretched paw with the caution usually reserved for investigating locks for poison mechanisms. Then he shook it once, quickly, and turned back to Groag as if Toede had suddenly vanished in a puff of smoke.

"You and, ah, Underhill, can leave tomorrow morning. We'll give you sufficient moneys for the supplies." With that, Renders turned and left the tent, without even saying good-bye to Toede.

"Who does he think he's talking to?" huffed Toede.

"The cook… pt…" said Groag, spitting out a particularly large stone, then added, "and the cook's advisor." He pursed his eyebrows together, and Toede suddenly realized he had seen the same expression on Renders's face when talking about "the boys'" attempt at cooking di

It was almost enough to make Toede miss that irritating kender-shrug.

Groag, now fed, drifted off in a light, muttering sleep, but Toede remained up, sitting in the entrance to the tent, watching the humans. They were less feverish than in the last hours of daylight, but no less insane in their actions: involved in deep discussion with each other, examining scrolls and old books in the light of the dying campfire, pawing over bits and pieces of what they had discovered during the day. Even from this distance Toede could see that they were pawing over veritable garbage: shattered pot shards and pieces of aged leather.

There was one unusually bright light in the camp, coming from what Toede assumed was Bu

Garbage and maniacs, thought Toede. It's a wonder any humans at all were made highlords. And he too pursed his eyebrows in the center-in bewilderment.

Actually, they could not leave the next morning as Renders had proposed. This was chiefly because Groag had some duties to tend to that included rationing out the remaining supplies for five days of meals, leaving rough instruction to "the boys" (actually two full-grown men who looked more capable of eating than cooking) on how to avoid poisoning the campers in his absence, and cleaning out the cooking pots that said "boys" had left on the fire last night until the bottoms consisted of over-baked gravy souffle.

As a result, Toede had sufficient time to explore the encampment. Not out of any human or kender form of curiosity, but for defensive reasons. If anything larger than a wild hamster attacked this group, the camp would fold up like a piece of origami. He wanted to know where the best bolt holes were, and the quickest route to escape.

He found Bu

"What?" said Bu

"Just watching you work," said Toede i

"Don't," snapped Bu

"What?" repeated Bu

"I was just wondering what you were looking for out here," said Toede. "I mean, is it treasure, or magic, or something else entirely?"

"I really don't see that it's any of your business," said the scholar. "Good-bye."

"Hmmm," said Toede, wandering up to the tilted plinth and cocking his head. "Interesting. Very interesting."

"You can read Proto-Ogre 1?" said Bu

"Hmmm?" said Toede, cocking an eye sideways at the scholar. "No, no, I was just noting that the carving sequence is similar to the song cadences among my own people. Dah-dah-dee, dah-dah-dee." He pointed at a collection of glyphs. "Is this a song?"

"Not a song," said Bu

Toede nodded. The red-haired scholar summarized, moving his hands rapidly as he did. "Before there were ogres, back in the time of legend, there had to be something that would become ogres, correct? Now, old legends speak of a tall, beautiful, noble race. Enlightened, wealthy, powerful in magic, and artistic in expression. Suddenly this race disappears from the legends, with only a few scattered references to a great fall. Just as suddenly, the ogres appear and start doing ogrish things. What does

this suggest to you?"

"That the ogres killed all your beautiful artists and took their lands," said Toede. "If I go to sleep with a bird in my room and wake up with a cat there, I don't assume that one became the other."

Bu

"We can learn how to become ogres?" suggested Toede.

Bu

When Toede made no further crass remarks, Bu

Toede opened his mouth to say something, but realized that the scholar was speaking of Hopsloth. "And have you learned to read this?"

Bu

Toede was spared Bu

The hobgoblin excused himself and backed away from the scholar. As soon as Toede was a sufficient distance away, Bu

One thing is certain, thought Toede as he walked back to Groag, there is more here than meets the eye-human, ogre, or otherwise. Toede could smell the sweaty fear on the human when Bu