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"Oops," the kender said. "Did I startle you? Sorry."
"Keep your voice down!" Wingover whispered. 'What
are you doing here?"
"I'm part of this group, remember?" Chess held it to a
whisper now. "I just wanted to tell you, there are goblins
moving back and forth among the fires. I saw a handful
of them right over there, just a minute ago."
"A handful?"
"Five. They have a dead sheep."
"I wish you'd stay with the dwarves," Wingover
hissed. But there was no answer. Chess was gone again,
off on some adventure of his own. At least, Wingover re-
assured himself, the little creature could move silently
when he felt like it.
They were nearly a mile into the valley when
Wingover saw movement near the end of a hedgerow a
hundred yards away. He signaled, a downward thrust of
his spread hand, and reined into shadow. The stench of
goblin and smoke was everywhere, and the sky above
was a low, drifting fabric with fireglow on its belly. Only
rarely was any trace of the moons beyond visible.
Crouching in silence, Wingover chanced a glance back
and saw that the rest were out of sight. They had seen the
signal and faded into a clump of trees at the edge of a
field.
At first there was nothing to see, then there was move-
ment just ahead. Dark shapes appeared, coming over a
low knoll, directly toward Chane's party. Wingover
counted three silhouettes with wide, round heads, wear-
ing inverted-bowl helmets
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