by Brandon Mull
“That’s why I didn’t want Henrick along,” Seth said. “I can make my own arguments. I don’t want to look weak.”
“Nobody would call you weak,” Doren said. “A little gangly maybe, but that’s your age.”
“I’ll just keep quiet,” Calvin said from Seth’s pocket. “Not everyone at the keep knows about me yet.”
“Not many would notice you either way,” Newel said. He took a bite from his apple and swatted Seth’s arm. “What kind of gear do you want?”
“Just some magical stuff in case things turn ugly,” Seth said.
“They have items that can protect against a castle full of dragons?” Doren asked.
“Not weapons to slay dragons,” Seth said. “Just gear. It’s good to be ready.” He slapped the satchel that served as his survival kit.
“You’ll have Tanu,” Doren said. “That means potions.”
“And his special courage potion works against dragons,” Seth said. “We tested it facing Marat last night. Tanu and I could both still walk and talk.”
“That would be embarrassing to freeze up at the feast,” Newel said.
“Kendra could always hold my hand,” Seth said. “But that’s embarrassing too.”
They reached a door bisected into a top and bottom half. “This should be it,” Seth said, knocking.
“One minute,” called an unseen, accented voice.
Seth paused, then knocked again.
“I’m coming,” the muffled voice assured him.
The top half of the door swung open. Grippa had small, snug blue scales with black markings. Three fins projected from his reptilian head, and bony spikes bristled at his joints. He had narrow, orange eyes with slit pupils and a wide mouth full of sharp, pointy teeth.
“Ah, the young caretaker,” Grippa greeted in unctuous tones. He glanced at Newel and Doren. “And a pair of satyrs.” His eyes returned to Seth. “Should I summon help? Are you a hostage? What is the ransom? Flutes?”
“Not all satyrs play the pipes,” Doren said.
“How about you two?” Grippa asked.
Newel shifted uncomfortably. “Well, sure, on occasion.”
“I’ve never heard you play a flute,” Seth said.
“We’re not showboaters,” Doren said.
“It lends itself to stereotypes,” Newel said.
“I’ve also played some accordion,” Doren said.
The troll slapped his hands down on the bottom half of the door. “How may I be of service?”
“I need gear,” Seth said.
Grippa stared. “A vague request.”
“I’m going to a feast at Skyhold,” Seth said. “I need some equipment to help me stay safe.”
“You’ll be protected by hospitality rights,” Grippa said.
“And the dragons want to kill us,” Seth said. “So I want to be prepared. Henrick told me you have an amazing knowledge of the items here.”
“I’m deaf to flattery,” Grippa said. “The reason we have items of value in our stores is because my predecessors and I have protected them.”
“If we never use them, they serve no purpose,” Seth said.
“If we use them indiscriminately, they will not be here when most needed,” Grippa replied. “What exactly do you want?”
“See if he has an accordion,” Doren whispered.
Seth stifled a laugh. “Do you have a weapon that could come in handy if a dragon gets grumpy?”
“Fresh out of accordions,” Grippa said. “Perhaps the brownies could rig something for you?”
“I asked about a weapon,” Seth said.
“I assumed that an accordion would qualify,” Grippa said. “We do have some pipes.”
“I’ll take a set of bagpipes,” Newel said. “And the hours when you retire for bed.”
“We have two sets of bagpipes,” Grippa said, “and many rules against playing them.”
“I really need a good weapon,” Seth said. “You must have something.”
“We have more than twenty thousand weapons in our care,” Grippa said. “Roughly one-third of them would be too heavy for a lad your size to employ effectively.”
“So give me the best of what would work,” Seth said.
“The best?” Grippa asked incredulously. “The best, you say? Why would you deserve our best weapon? Why take it to a feast? How would you even determine which weapon is best? The rarest? The most costly? The most powerful?”
“The most powerful that I could handle,” Seth said.
Grippa leaned forward. “Powerful in what way? Capable of killing the most people the fastest? Most threatening to a dragon? Able to cause the most structural damage to a building?”
“Those three sound good,” Seth said.
Grippa covered his eyes with one hand, the hornlike nails on his fingertips yellowed almost to brown. “You can’t have any of them, let alone all of them!”
“Why?” Seth said. “I’m the caretaker.”
“I’m the property master,” Grippa replied.
“I’m in charge of you,” Seth reminded him.
“He said it,” Newel muttered.
“Sure did,” Doren murmured in reply.
Grippa grinned. “Is that how it works? You’re going to bully me? My job is to guard the armaments and other property of interest belonging to this garrison. I decide what goes and what stays.”
“What if I fire you and take what I want?” Seth asked.
Newel and Doren subtly sidled away from him.
The grin was gone. “Have you ever dealt with a troll before?”
“Once or twice,” Seth said.
Grippa drummed his fingers on the lower half of the door. “I’m going to cut you a break because you’re young, you’re in over your head, and you’ll probably be dead soon. Trolls don’t appreciate threats. We have long memories. We don’t give something for nothing. Trolls bargain.”
“And you work for me,” Seth said.
Doren made a choking sound that may have started as a laugh. Newel patted his back firmly.
“I was not employed by you,” Grippa said. “I have a contract. It has been in my clan for generations. I suppose there are protocols you could engage to relieve me of my position, forms to fill out, covenants to break, deposits to relinquish. Are you sure you can replace me? Do you know where the hidden rooms are and how to access them? You’re familiar with the hundreds of secret stashes that contain the most valuable items? You have the expertise to distinguish a phantom knife from a dagger of despair?”
“You lost me at forms,” Seth said. “Is a phantom knife good? Does it cut ghosts?”
“The blade of a phantom knife can pass through solid matter,” Grippa said, “but the tip can be made tangible at any moment. It is primarily used by skilled assassins to kill without an entry wound.”
“So, a couple of those,” Seth said. “What does the dagger do?”
Grippa balled his hands into fists. “We have one phantom knife. It would be nearly impossible to replace. And it would serve almost no purpose among dragons.”
“What would be most useful where I’m going?” Seth asked. “What would you bring?”
“Am I to deduce I am keeping my job?” Grippa asked.
“If you give me some good stuff,” Seth said.
“That’s a threat again,” Doren offered helpfully.
“Can I speak with our friend for a moment?” Newel asked, putting an arm around Seth’s shoulders.
“What are you, his attorney?” Grippa asked.
“Attorney is such an ugly word,” Newel said. “How about adviser?”
“This will only take a moment,” Doren assured.
Newel guided Seth several paces down the hall and leaned in close. “Trolls are hoarders. This clown doesn’t want to part with any gear. He doesn’t want to let you know what gear he has. He thinks of it as his. I have a feeling Henrick or Marat or Agad could twist his arm and get him to move, but better for your reputation if you do
it yourself.”
“I’m trying,” Seth said.
“Trolls like a good bargain,” Newel said.
“Why should I bargain?” Seth complained. “He works for me!”
“And he can work against you,” Calvin said quietly from Seth’s pocket.
“True,” Newel agreed. “Listen, you don’t want to bargain with an employee. It seems weak. But maybe it’s actually smart. Do you want good gear or not?”
“I want it,” Seth said.
“Then be clever,” Newel said. “Trolls are notoriously selfish. If it works to his advantage to give you good gear, he’ll be much more willing.”
Seth nodded. “I get it.”
Newel patted his back, and Seth returned to the doorway. The troll watched him smugly.
“Sorry, I’ve been under a lot of pressure, and I was being hasty,” Seth said.
“A common flaw of youth,” Grippa said.
“Useful in a race, though,” Seth added.
The troll barely chuckled.
“You’ve heard Soaring Cliffs fell?” Seth asked. “The dragon sanctuary?”
“Everyone knows,” Grippa said.
“Dragons are in rebellion around the world,” Seth said. “Celebrant has threatened us. Kendra and I might not be perfect caretakers. Everyone knows we’re too young. But we’re what you’ve got right now. At least for a year.”
“Celebrant can veto any potential replacements for twelve months,” the troll recited.
“And he will,” Seth said. “He knows we’re inexperienced. He thinks appointing us was a bad move. Maybe it was.”
The troll shrugged. “You got the scepter. It showed toughness and leadership.”
“And we’re really young,” Seth said. “We might fail. We could be the last caretakers Wyrmroost ever has.”
Grippa squinted pensively. “You against the dragons for a year? Even with the protections inherent to the keep, I put my money on the dragons. At least three to one. That’s assuming you have better advisers than these fauns.”
“What would the odds be with us as the advisers?” Doren asked.
“I’d pack my bags,” Grippa said. His eyes returned to Seth. “What’s your point? Trying to scare me off?”
“I do have good advisers,” Seth said. “I mean to hold off the dragons. You want me to survive.”
“If you and your sister die, Celebrant becomes the sole caretaker,” Grippa said. “Same if you flee the sanctuary. The dragons rule Wyrmroost. Yeah, I want you to live.”
“If we die, you lose all this stuff,” Seth said. “No Blackwell Keep—no items to protect.”
“I hear you,” Grippa said. He paused, twisting his neck to the side until it clicked. “I don’t want you to lose anything I lend you.”
“Seth has some experience with magical items,” Newel inserted.
“Quiet down, Bagpipes,” Grippa said. He gazed at Seth. “Do you?”
“I used to have Vasilis,” Seth said.
The troll’s eyes lit up. “One of the five legendary swords?”
They had been conversing in English. With a small effort, Seth switched to Duggish, the language of trolls. “I used it to kill Graulas and Nagi Luna. Then my sister took out the Demon King with it.”
“I suppose I knew that,” Grippa said. “You speak Duggish like a native.”
“Part of being a shadow charmer,” Seth said.
“Where is the blade of legend now?” Grippa asked. “Perhaps I could keep it safe?”
Seth smiled. “I have to keep that a secret. But I have used powerful items from time to time, including the Sands of Sanctity and the Chronometer. As we get to know each other, I may store items with you.”
The troll rubbed his hands together. “You need gear for the feast. In case something goes wrong.”
“What do you recommend?” Seth asked.
“You’ll take care of these items?” Grippa asked.
“I will,” Seth said. “And I won’t let Blackwell Keep fall.”
“Fair enough,” Grippa said. “You’ll want a weapon.”
“Yes,” Seth said.
“I have the sword of Tregain, former prince of Stormguard Castle,” Grippa said. “It’s a short sword; he used it as a boy. But no edge in our arsenal is as durable or as keen. The blade was created by master smiths with the help of the wizard Egar. It tends to push attention away from itself when unsheathed, and the effect increases with the size of the attacking creature. Also, in great need, and at the price of the blade, with the phrase ‘sharpness begone,’ the blade will become a bolt of lightning. Using the sword that way would leave you with only a hilt. I advise against it, except in greatest need. The keenness of the blade and the distracter component are more valuable.”
“And you have it?” Seth asked.
“Hidden, yes, but of course I have it,” Grippa said.
Seth tried to maintain his calm. He needed to keep a good poker face. “Would a bolt of lightning kill a dragon?”
“Depends,” Grippa said. “Probably not, under most circumstances. But a dragon would surely notice. And most beings would stand no chance.”
“The sword will do,” Seth said. “What else?”
Grippa stared for a moment. “I have a pair of fleet boots.”
“For wearing on ships?”
“Fleet as in fast. They help whenever you’re in motion. Feels strange at first. They assist with every step. Wearing them, you will increase your top speed, and you can keep a quick pace much longer than ordinary. They’re also unusually quiet.”
“All right,” Seth said, at war against a smile. “Anything else?”
“I hesitate,” Grippa said. “The last item I suggest is dangerous to all. Under ordinary circumstances it would be foolish to use, but if desperately cornered, you might be glad to have it.”
“What is it?”
“The vial of horrors,” Grippa said. “It will work only once. Unstop it and every being present will see some of their worst fears come to pass. Including you. The effect is all illusion, but incredibly vivid. Lasts only a few minutes, but that might be long enough to escape a tight spot, if you keep your wits.”
“Sounds good,” Seth said.
“If I were going among dragons, I would want it,” Grippa said.
“What about my sister?” Seth asked.
“I figured you would mention her,” Grippa said. “She might appreciate our rare and wonderful bow of plenty.”
“Tell me about it,” Seth said.
“Nock an arrow and it is an ordinary bow,” Grippa said. “But pull back the bow without an arrow and one will appear. Up to three hundred per day.”
“Cool,” Seth said.
“That is not all,” Grippa continued with a grin. “Once the arrow has appeared, name any number of arrows remaining for the day, and that many will simultaneously fire.”
“A hundred at once?” Seth asked, unable to contain his excitement.
“Up to three hundred in one shot,” Grippa said. “If you want to use them up that way.”
“They spread out?” Seth asked. “If you shoot a bunch at once?”
“Yes,” Grippa confirmed. “With a tendency to seek targets.”
“Maybe I should have that too,” Seth said.
Grippa shook his head. “Up to you, I suppose, but that will leave Kendra without a significant weapon. Our stores are not limitless. I see the value in protecting the keep. I am offering those that could serve you best.”
“All right,” Seth said. “Anything else for Kendra?”
Grippa sighed. “I hesitate.”
“What?”
“It can be quite effective against dragons under the right circumstances.”
“Sounds like what we need.”
“It would be nice to keep in the arsenal just in case,” Grippa said.
“We’ll try to bring everything back,” Seth said.
Grippa shrugged. “It would not hold off dragons forever.”
“A sack of gales,” Grippa said.
“A bag of wind?” Seth asked. “Are we back to bagpipes?”
“To loose the drawstring of the sack is to unleash a mighty wind,” Grippa said. “With a dragon on the ground, the sack would do little. But it could cause real problems for dragons in flight.”
“How much wind?” Seth asked.
“When full, a fierce gale for at least a minute,” Grippa said.
“Is it full?” Seth asked.
“Currently, yes.”
“How long to refill?”
“It varies,” Grippa said. “The sack is fed remotely by wind collectors in several strategic locations around the globe. Under ideal conditions, the bag can refill in hours. Or it can also take days.”
Seth scrunched his brow. “If the sack can blow a dragon off course, won’t the person holding it go flying?”
“The bag is magically stabilized,” Grippa said. “Otherwise the holder would blow around like an untied balloon.”
“Sounds useful,” Seth said. “What else?”
“You don’t know when to quit,” Grippa said. “I have offered all the most sensible options. If the feast goes according to plan, you will need none of them.”
“I’ve learned the hard way that life doesn’t always follow the plan,” Seth said. “I like to be ready.”
“I cannot fault you,” Grippa said. “Sometimes good preparation helps prevent trouble from starting.”
“I hope so.”
“Shall I fetch the items?” Grippa asked.
“Sure, thanks,” Seth said.
Grippa gave a little bow and withdrew.
Newel sidled close. “What did you say?”
“It sounded like you were gargling mud,” Doren added.
Seth had almost forgotten he had switched to Duggish. “We reached an agreement. He’s getting some magical weapons and items for me and Kendra.”
“Any mention of those bagpipes?” Newel asked casually.
“I think we better quit while we’re ahead,” Seth said.
Feast
Kendra sat rigidly in her griffin saddle as Didger the dwarf buckled her legs in. The creature shifted beneath her, saddle creaking, plumage ruffling near the neck. She patted the feathery shoulders, powerful muscles rolling beneath her palm.