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by Vivian Vande Velde

  No, take that back.

  We pushed Mom to her limit. She ended up riding double with Thea, afraid she'd pass out or get jostled off.

  We slowed when we got back to the road, to the previous day's ambush site. Cornelius's Wizards' Lightning had taken down branches and gouged trees and scorched the ground. The air was still smoky from it. Smoky and ... more. The bandits had abandoned their dead companions. An afternoon and a morning out there, and already the bodies gave off the stink of meat gone bad. Combined with the smoke, the effect was of a particularly sinister barbecue.

  Robin was eyeing a body that was lying half on the road, like he was wondering what was in the guy's pockets.

  "Don't even think of it," I warned. I didn't want to look at some one-day-dead guy's face.

  Mom went back to her own horse. Now that we were on unfamiliar ground, we traveled more slowly. Besides, if anything happened that we had to try to outrun somebody—or something—any horse carrying double would be the first to falter. That's how come Mom had ended up with Thea anyway. Thea was the smallest and the least burden to her mount to begin with. Being an elf, I was the smallest of the men, and I'd been just about to offer to have Mom come over with me, when she announced she was well enough to go on her own.

  Sure, I thought, as long as we kept the horses to a slow walk.

  Midafternoon Thea suddenly said, "What's that up ahead?"

  I sniffed the air. "Smoke."

  She gave me a dirty look.

  A small fire, 1 judged by the smell of it, and by the tiny gray wisp I could see between the treetops. The clean smell of nothing more than wood burning.

  "Probably a campfire," Robin said. My thought exactly. I got out my new crossbow anyway.

  We advanced cautiously.

  The trees thinned. We came to a clearing and found a wooden cottage. The smoke was coming from a chimney. Nobody in sight.

  Robin dismounted, taking his bow and quiver with him.

  "Harek, maybe you better stay here," Thea said in a whisper. She glanced from my mother to me. Obviously Mom would be no good to anybody if we had to fight. Just as obviously she shouldn't be left on her own. I was going to stay, but Mom said, "We can't keep fragmenting." Swaying slightly, she got off her horse. She even brought out her slingshot.

  We left the horses under cover of the trees and approached the cottage. Thea and I were first, then Cornelius, then Mom, Robin in the rear.

  I pressed my ear to the door but could hear nothing. I held up three fingers to Thea. She was better about it than Robin had been. She waited for me to mouth the words One, two, three, then the two of us kicked in the door.

  13. THE STATUE

  The door burst inward with a splintering sound. I had my crossbow leveled and cocked. Next to me, Thea held her broadsword ready. Cornelius had his arms raised, positioned to let fly with Wizards' Lightning. Mom was crouched behind him with her slingshot, her lips thin and pale, her dark eyes sparkling feverishly. She'd been in no state to care about her appearance over the last two days, and her gypsy hair had become a wild halo of frizzy curls. If you hadn't known her, she might have passed as grim—fanatical even. Behind her, Robin had his longbow drawn, a green-fletched arrow notched.

  Facing us, a little old man sat at a table. He paused, his spoon halfway between his bowl and his open mouth. A nasty grayish brown broth dripped off his chin splat! splat! back into the bowl as he gaped at us.

  I checked around the room. It was dark, since there was only one window, but so bare—fireplace by the far wall, bedding in one corner, a storage chest, the table—that it was immediately obvious the old man was alone.

  "You broke my door," he said. He was hard to understand because he only had two, maybe three teeth, and he still had a mouthful of soup. Beans and onions by the smell of it.

  "Ahhhmmm," I said, glancing to the others for help.

  He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "You broke my door," he repeated as though I hadn't said anything. Which I guess I hadn't. He shoved his chair back and approached. "Why are people like you always pushing in here, busting my door?" He poked a dirty finger at my chest. He was short enough that I could see the top of his head, bald except for a few tufts of age-yellowed hair. "Well?" He poked me again. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

  Mom saved me. She said, "We're sorry."

  He thought that over. "Hmph," he said finally. "Fat lot of good that does me." But he turned away from us and returned to the table.

  Cornelius stepped forward. "We were wondering—"

  "I ain't saying nothing," the old man said, sounding as though he meant it, "till you wild ruffians fix yonder door." He sat down and resumed slurping his soup. Then he added, " 'Cept you. The polite one. You better sit down. You don't look so good." So much for my evaluation that Mom looked grim and fanatical.

  Mom stayed where she was.

  I don't know about the others, but I seriously considered just leaving. We were on the road to Sannatia, what more did we need to know? We didn't have time to waste. But there was the nagging suspicion that Rasmussem wouldn't have put the old man here if he didn't serve a purpose. Maybe he could even cure my mother's headache.

  I asked Cornelius, "Any spells you can think of that might help?"

  The old man interrupted. "Spells! Unravel at the first full moon. You fix that door proper with hammer and nails."

  Cornelius smiled at me. "You and Thea are the ones who kicked it in."

  Thea cut me off before I could come up with a suitable reply. "And the rest of you are the ones who'll have to wait if we have to do it on our own."

  "We can help," Robin told Cornelius. "Aren't we supposed to be in this thing together?"

  "Hmm." Cornelius turned to the old man. "We'd be happy to fix your door if we could, but we don't have a hammer."

  The old man sighed. He set his spoon down and went to the chest. After rummaging around in there for what seemed like half the afternoon, he brought out a hammer. "Here," he said, putting it into Cornelius's hand. He shuffled back to the table and sat down.

  Cornelius looked at the hammer. He looked at the old man. He said, "We don't have nails."

  The old man slammed down his spoon and returned to the chest. Finally he brought out an old piece of cloth, which he unwrapped to reveal three nails. They were all rusty and bent, obviously secondhand.

  We had to bang them straight with the hammer before we could even use them. Then we had to decide where three nails would do the most good. We reinforced the crossbeam and got the wretched door hanging straight. By the time we were done, the thing looked better than before we'd kicked it in.

  "There," Cornelius said, "now—"

  The old man held up a bony finger, indicating for us to wait. He wiped a piece of bread around the inside of his bowl to get the last of the soup, then stuffed the bread into his mouth and chewed. With the small number of teeth he had, chewing was a major job.

  Finally he placed his bowl on a shelf over the fireplace. "So," he said, "you must be here to see the statue."

  We all looked at one another.

  "Statue?" I said.

  "Four silver pieces." He held his hand outstretched.

  "What makes you think we want to see some stupid statue?"

  He narrowed his eyes at me. "I wouldn't imagine you'd want to see a stupid statue," he said. "I imagine you'd want to see a magic statue."

  That got us all listening.

  "What kind of magic?"

  "What's it a statue of?"

  "What does it do?"

  "Where is it?"

  The old man waited for us to peter out, then explained: "Good luck just to rub it; magic for the taking. Five silver pieces before I tell you any more."

  "You said four a minute ago," I said.

  "That was before you insulted it."

  Robin had obviously taken as much as he was going to. "Maybe we could go and look for it on our own."

  "Maybe you could," the old man said. "Maybe you cou
ld even slit my throat and steal my money. But maybe you couldn't find the statue on your own. And maybe the bad luck of harming the statue's guardian would follow you to wherever you're going. Six silver pieces."

  Thea, who had our money from the town, handed over six silver pieces before he could raise the price any more. "How far is this magic statue?" she asked.

  "Follow me." He led us outside the cottage and around the back. The statue was about six feet away from his back wall, still in the clearing.

  "Gee, that would have been hard to find," I said.

  Mom stuck her elbow in my side.

  The thing was weird.

  It was chiseled out of rock, real rough like it'd been done by an amateur, or by someone who hadn't quite finished. Basically it was human shaped, slightly bigger than life-size, and lying flat on its back. The face was all knobby and gnarled, but the expression was clearly recognizable. It was an expression like you'd expect to see on the face of a kid who's just called his teacher a hairy, sweaty grub then suddenly realized the teacher is standing right behind him. It was the expression of unavoidable doom. I'd expected some sort of saint or hero. This was strange workmanship, a strange pose, a strange face. It sort of looked like, almost looked like...

  "It's a troll," Thea said. "It's not a statue at all; it's a troll that turned to stone when it was caught in the sunlight."

  "Yes," the old man said. He swiped away a spider that was casting a web from the troll's chin to its shoulder.

  "This is supposed to bring us luck?" Robin asked. "It doesn't look like he was very lucky."

  But I could see where there was a worn spot on the thing's forehead, where countless pilgrims before us had rubbed for luck. This thing had been here for a long time, and somebody believed. A lot of somebodies. I reached my hand out and got a very faint tingle.

  "Magic," I said uncertainly.

  "For the taking," the old man declared.

  "Yeah. So you said." Cornelius ran his hand across the figure's face also. He wasn't an elf, so he'd have to do a Reveal Magic spell to know for sure, and he wouldn't waste a spell that way. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "The boots," the old man said. "The sword. The crystal."

  I looked in the same order the old man said it, starting with the feet. The troll was indeed wearing boots, and suddenly I realized that they weren't stone but leather. My gaze shifted upward. The sheath strapped to the troll's belt was stone, but the sword handle that stuck out of it was metal. And around the creature's stubby neck was a delicate gold chain from which hung a clear piece of glass, no bigger than a baby's fingernail, teardrop shaped.

  I rested my hand on the crystal and got what felt like an electric shock. "Yow! It's magic all right."

  Thea passed her hand over the sword, then the boots, and nodded.

  Cornelius raised his arms and spat out some of his hocus-pocus, no doubt his Reveal Evil spell. He must have gotten a negative, for he only said, "Magic for the taking?"

  "Take them," the old man offered.

  Cornelius folded his arms with a what-do-you-take-me-for? expression. "Surely we're not the first to come by?"

  "Most comers take just the luck. But you're right. Others before you have taken the magic objects."

  "Well?" Cornelius demanded.

  The old man shrugged. "Eventually they come back."

  "Eventually?" Mom asked. I turned and saw she was sitting on the grass. She seemed worn out. "Do we have to return them by a set time?"

  The old man shook his head.

  "Then why do people bring them back?" Robin asked. "I wouldn't bring them back."

  The old man shrugged. "I don't know why. I don't know what the magic is. I never ask. Nobody ever tells me. They just pay me four silver pieces and I bring them here."

  "You don't know what the magic is?" I cried indignantly. "You mean there isn't a healing spell?" I'd been so sure, I'd convinced myself.

  "Not that I ever heard. You need healing, go find a cleric. I'm going back in the cottage. Either take the things or not, but don't..."—he looked each of us in the eye like he was about to say something very important—"don't you dare write any nasty words on that statue."

  "Wonderful." I watched him hobble back around the side of the house. "All that time wasted, and we don't even know what for."

  Thea whacked my arm. "Stop complaining, Harek. Let's get the magic objects and see what happens."

  14. BOOTS, SWORD, CRYSTAL

  Cornelius went for one boot, Robin the other. Thea pulled the sword out of its stone scabbard. Mom was sitting on the grass looking like nothing short of a major explosion was going to move her. That left me to get the crystal pendant.

  The chain was made of tiny gold links. There was no sign of a clasp, so I figured it must be in the back. Still, I was afraid that if I just tugged the delicate chain around, it might snag on the rough surface of the stone troll and break. I knelt down for a closer look.

  With one hand on the creature's chest, I reached the other around the back of its neck. Something tickled the back of my hand, and I jerked away a moment before I realized it was just a blade of grass. Maybe.

  I figured I shouldn't be sticking such an important part of me where I couldn't see. I bent over. Sweat prickled on my back, from the heat, but also from the uncomfortable position and from the tension.

  The grass I'd already felt blocked my sight. I blew, and the blades bent away from me, but I still couldn't see any clasp. I blew again, a longer breath this time.

  Behind me, Robin said, "Harek?"

  I rested my forehead on the ground and wished I'd die before I had to look up.

  "Harek, why are you blowing in that troll's ear?"

  Better still, I wished Robin would die.

  "Ha-ha," I said. I brushed my knees off and stood. "You're so clever, you unclasp the chain." I turned my back to him in time to see my mother cover a smile with her hand. "Ha-ha," I retorted again, unable to think of anything better.

  She burst into laughter, then put her hand to her head. "Don't make me laugh, Arvin," she begged. "I finally understand what all those cartoon characters mean when they say, 'It only hurts when I laugh.' "

  "Hmph," I said, tapping my foot. But it was good to see her smile.

  "What's the problem here?" Cornelius asked. I saw that he'd put on the troll's boots, which seemed dangerously presumptuous to me, but that's Shelton for you.

  I explained my reasoning about the chain.

  "Hmmm," Cornelius said. "When were necklace clasps invented?"

  We all shrugged.

  "Probably it just slips off over the head."

  "If it does, we're in trouble," I said. "I don't know how much a petrified troll weighs, but I'm willing to bet it's more than I can lift."

  "Stand back, everyone." Cornelius rolled his sleeves back from his hands. "Cornelius the Magnificent comes to the rescue yet again."

  "That's all we need," Thea muttered.

  Cornelius ignored her.

  "Nothing up this sleeve—" he began, demonstrating.

  "Get on with it," we chorused.

  Cornelius gave us a well-it's-your-loss look and began a spell that sounded like a spastic snake giving birth.

  But slowly and steadily the stone troll began to rise from the ground. Cornelius brought the thing to about shoulder level, then reached over and gently lifted the chain up over the troll's head. "Shall I make the statue somersault?" he asked.

  "No," I said. I could just imagine the old guardian dropping dead of a heart attack.

  Cornelius lowered the troll back to its original resting place. "Three-point landing," he announced.

  Robin clapped his hands, slowly.

  Ignoring, or not noticing, the obvious sarcasm, Cornelius bowed. And placed the necklace around his own neck.

  "How come you get all the goodies?" I asked, though Thea still held the sword.

  "As I explained to Robin while you were busy cuddling with the troll, since these objects are mag
ic, who better to look after them than a magic-user?"

  "Well, I'm keeping the sword," Thea said. "An elf warrior could make better use of it than a wizard."

  "Perhaps," Cornelius said smugly. "Perhaps not."

  Thea gave the thing a fancy flip. I half expected that she'd had enough and was finally going to chop off Cornelius's head, but the flip ended with her holding the sword broadside-up about two inches from his nose. "Orc Slayer," she said and her tone hinted that she had thought of her other options. "It says its name is Orc Slayer."

  Cornelius ran his finger across the engraved script. The words were written in Common Tongue, the language we were using. I couldn't tell what metal the thing was made of—not iron, which Thea wouldn't have been able to handle, nor bronze.

  "This wasn't made by trolls," Cornelius said.

  Thea snatched the weapon away as though afraid he'd try to talk her out of it, and tucked it into her belt.

  "The boots have writing on them, too," Robin said in the uncomfortable silence. "Show them, Cornelius."

  Cornelius sat down on the ground and crossed his legs, holding one foot up by the ankle so that we could see the sole of the boot. Probably he didn't trust us enough to take the boot off.

  Etched into the bottom of each boot were these words:

  Northward, Southward, Eastward, Westward,

  Inward, Outward,

  Always Homeward,

  That is the Magic Word.

  "Nice boots," Robin said. "Lousy poetry."

  "How come the boots fit you?" I asked Cornelius. "The troll's feet are a lot bigger."

  He shrugged. "As soon as I put them on, they just kind of ... molded themselves to my size. As a matter of fact, I put them on over my regular boots."

  "That's the magic," Robin said. "They fit whoever wears them. There are Nike salesmen who would kill for that spell."

  "There's more to it than that," Thea said, sounding as though Cornelius's self-confidence and Robin's flippancy were beginning to get to her. "If you read the poem—"

  "I read the poem," Cornelius snapped. "It doesn't make any sense."