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."
"How about scouting for dangers, then?"
"I can do that, if you ask me nicely. What sort of dan-
gers are you looking for?"
"Any that might be there. Like cats."
"There aren't any cats. I already told you that, but I
don't suppose you remember. There's a wizard on a
mountainside off there somewhere, but he's miles and
miles away. And a kender and a dwarf in a funny suit,
east of where you are... or north, I'm not sure. And
way off over there I saw a bunch of people crossing over
from the next valley. They're really a mess, all cut up like
they've been in a fight, and carrying their wounded. Re-
ally a mess, it looked to me. I -"
The soarwagon pitched, nosed up, and shot toward
the sky, the exasperated shout of the gnome trailing back
from it, "Save me some supper!"
* * * * *
Bloody, battered, stripped, and staked out on the cold
ground, Garon Wendesthalas was only vaguely aware of
those who stood over him. For hours, the goblins had
tormented him while the one in the lacquered armor -
their leader - stood quietly and watched. Torture after
torture they had applied, gleeful in their sport, stopping
just short of breaking his bones or drawing enough blood
to kill him. The leader wanted information from him.
Did he know of a mountain dwarf somewhere near, a
dwarf who might have Hylar featuresl Where was the
dwarven girl they had seen traveling with him? And the
human, who - and where - was he?
The elf had not uttered a sound throughout
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