Then the human clamped his mouth tight. There were a thousand ways by which Golgren could have wrenched more information out of him, but that was not what the ogre desired-at least not at the moment. His gaze shifted back to the chieftain. “His armor and weapon? They are not here?”
Atolgus, likely fearing some extravagant punishment for his unforeseeable mistake, looked suddenly worried at the drift in the conversation. “We have! We have! Can get!”
“Do so.”
With a frantic bow, the younger ogre fled the chamber. Golgren dismissed any further thought of him. If Atolgus brought all of the Solamnic’s items back quickly and in good order, he would receive ample reward for the knight’s presence. If not, then there were also a thousand ways by which Golgren could punish the fool. The Solamnic’s trust would be hard to gain, but gain it the grand lord was determined to do at all cost.
Golgren studied the knight. “My Idaria. Our guest has come a long way. He needs food and wine.”
Without a word, the elf scurried to find sustenance for the human. Despite his deliberately impassive expression, the very mention of food and wine must have momentarily made the knight’s spirits soar. Though he was a prisoner of the “savage” ogres, at least they were not going to starve him. And he was, Golgren was sure, famished.
The meredrake grew restive. Possibly disappointed in the lack of violence and blood, the beast again began tugging at his chain.
Stefan, alarmed by the creature, reached instinctively for the sword that no longer hung at his side. Golgren extended his arms in an apologetic gesture, which in part served, as he planned, to bring his missing hand to the attention of the human.
“You see this? The emperor of the Uruv Suurt-the minotaurs-he once took offense at it,” the grand lord quipped, his mouth twisted to approximate, as best he could, a human grin. “As he takes offense at humans who tread upon his Ambeon.”
The knight, thinking he was being provoked, made no comment, but at that moment, after so much deprivation, his strength began to give out and his body swayed noticeably.
Golgren frowned. “Khleeg! My guest will sit!”
To his credit, the massive ogre moved quickly enough to catch the wobbling Stefan before he could collapse on the ground. Almost as if guiding a child, Khleeg led the man toward his master while another ogre rushed forward with a small wooden bench.
The Solamnic accepted the seat with a grateful nod. “I thank the Grand Lord for his courtesy, but if he wishes any facts from me, he will not get them either by pleasantries or torture.”
The latter was debatable, Golgren thought, but “facts” were not exactly what the grand lord desired, not entirely. And the knight’s defiance amused him. Before Golgren had a chance to say another word, however, Idaria returned with the food and drink.
“So!” Golgren merrily exclaimed. “No talk of torture! No talk at all! First, Sir Stefan Rennert, Knight of the Sword, you will dine! The food will be excellent”-he gave Idaria a warning glance-“for it is cooked by fine elves!”
After an appraising look at the meal, which consisted of seasoned goat meat, black mushrooms from small caverns located underneath the capital, and some rare, pale-yellow tzena melons-one of the few fruits hardy enough to exist in the northern climes of Kern-Golgren allowed Idaria to serve the knight.
The Solamnic immediately dug into the appetizing meal. Perhaps because he had expected poison and, thus, fully intended to die earlier or maybe because he wondered if the food would be taken away at any moment, Stefan ate with a frantic speed that caused even Golgren to stare incredulously at the knight.
“Please! Better to slow down!” said the grand lord.
Idaria served the knight just as she always did her lord, but her unusual attentiveness caught Golgren’s gaze and caused him to frown, despite his desire to keep an air of amiability about him. As she leaned close to pour the human more wine, the grand lord irritably snapped his fingers, recalling the elf slave to his side. Once she joined him, he reached with his hand to take one of hers. Her beautiful countenance gave no hint that he deliberately squeezed much harder than he knew was comfortable.
“You serve me well,” he murmured, finally loosening his grip on the elf. “You serve me always.”
He released her. Idaria retreated behind him.
The knight ate more slowly then, with his eyes darting around the chamber. Golgren noted that those eyes lingered on each of his guards for more than several seconds. Even in the very heart of the ogre realm, the human was on alert, constantly analyzing his surroundings. He was clearly more than a mere scout.
“You did not come to our realm alone,” Golgren interjected with another smile. The grand lord tried not to sound accusing, even though there was no good reason for any Solamnic to cross the border into lands inhabited principally by minotaurs and ogres.
Stefan finished a swallow of goat meat and said, “No, I didn’t. Giant … giant baraki caught us by surprise.”
“Ah, the ji-baraki, they are treacherous.” Atolgus would have to be questioned later about the veracity of his information, but it was clear to Golgren that the knights had been probing deep inside his lands; Khleeg had informed him the Solamnics were caught near the site of his victory over the rebellious chieftains. “Your comrades, they are mourned.”
Under the circumstances, the human had to acknowledge the grand lord’s apparent sympathy. Stefan nodded, still chewing.
The rest of the story Golgren could figure out. So Atolgus had come upon the knight and captured him, understanding his value to a higher lord. Still, it was a credit to the human to have made the rough trek all the way to the capital. Stefan Rennert was a fighter strong of will and body, just the type of person who might prove to be some real use to Golgren.
“The home of the Solamnics, it is very beautiful, it is said,” the ogre suddenly commented, shifting topics.
Stefan swallowed another bite of goat. His expression was one of undisguised pride. “The finest of all lands.”
“And protected by good warriors like yourself. Much I hear of Solamnia. Tell me, Sir Stefan Rennert, what do you think of my warriors?”
The knight’s expression grew wary as he more openly regarded the guards in the room. “They seem strong and brave.”
“And better armored, more disciplined than expected perhaps?”
Stefan hesitated. It was as though Golgren had read his thoughts. Finally, the human nodded. “Certainly not what I expected.”
Khleeg, who was close by standing watch, grunted in amusement. To his lord, he muttered, “Junach i falgos tuum.”
The human eyed the armored ogre distrustfully. He thought he heard some insults aimed at him. Golgren, shaking a finger at his subordinate as if the latter were a small child, moved quickly to defuse the situation. “Ah, good Khleeg! For our guest, only Common must be spoken … and with politeness, yes?”
As Stefan waited, Khleeg, eyes narrowed in concentration, said to the knight, “Warriors must … always … expect … all.”
It was not what Khleeg actually had said, but the Solamnic appeared to accept that as the translation. Had the ogre’s statement been accurately translated-Khleeg had commented on how naive and stupid warriors die the quickest-the Solamnic would have had to take umbrage. Golgren didn’t want that to happen, and neither, for the moment, did Stefan.
The grand lord did not wish to take any more chances at provoking a confrontation. “Khleeg, you may go now.”
The officer slapped his fist against his breastplate and marched out.
Stefan finished his food. Sliding the remnants to the side, he stood before Golgren, his jaw set. “If I am a guest, then am I permitted to leave Kernen now?”