Cuthbert shrugged. “This passage has been a family secret since long before you were queen and I was earl,” he replied. “I wanted to think matters over before violating an ancestral tradition.”
“Then I thank you for making the correct choice,” Brianna said, somewhat tartly.
“You should not need to thank him for obeying the law.” Tavis buckled his sword belt, then added, “And certainly not when it benefits him as much as his queen. Unless I return with help, the giants will flatten his castle.”
A crimson cloud settled over Cuthbert’s face. “If saving my castle were my only concern, it would be a simple matter to persuade the giants not to attack.”
Tavis’s blue eyes grew as cold as the glacier ice they resembled. “If you yield to that temptation, know that I will hunt you down myself.”
There was no need for either man to spell out what temptation. Now that it had become obvious that the giants were here for Brianna, they all knew that Earl Cuthbert could save his castle and his family simply by giving the invaders what they wanted. Of course, there would be a terrible battle between his own troops and the Company of the Winter Wolf, but that fight would be far easier to win than the one against the giants.
Tavis continued his threat. “I will make it my business to see your-”
“Tavis, I hardly think that’s necessary.” Brianna interposed herself between the two men. “Perhaps Earl Cuthbert doesn’t have his siege stores in order, but that hardly makes him a traitor.”
Tavis switched his gaze to Brianna. “A man who defies your law for no reason-”
“Then it was a poor law,” Brianna interrupted. “I know that Earl Cuthbert is a good man. Have you forgotten that he was one of the first to stand with us against my father?”
The scout’s eyes softened. “I remember.”
“Good,” Brianna said, genuinely relieved. Cuthbert clearly feared for his castle and his family, but the queen knew he would never betray her. He always sent his taxes to Castle Hartwick on time, which told her more about the man’s trustworthiness than how many dragons he had slain. “Now perhaps Avner and Basil should say their farewells.”
The queen turned and saw Avner standing at the edge of the lamp’s flickering light, but there was no sign of the runecaster. With a knot of anger forming in her stomach, she called, “Basil!”
The verbeeg’s flat feet paddled across the floor as he tried to sneak out of the folio room. A moment later, he appeared at Avner’s side, still stooped over because of the low ceiling.
“Yes, Majesty?” He arched his bushy eyebrows in a parody of innocence.
“I told you to leave Earl Cuthbert’s books alone.”
“But these folios are ancient They contain the entire history of the giant race!” he objected. “Quite possibly, they might tell us what the Twilight Spirit wants with you.”
“They don’t,” Earl Cuthbert replied. “I have read every volume, and there’s no mention of any such spirit”
“Metamorpherie is very subtle,” Basil insisted. “You’d miss the reference during a cursory scan.”
“Those folios were captured when my ancestors drove the stone giants from this vale!” Cuthbert growled. “I can assure you, I have done more than scan them during the fifty-odd years I have lived in this castle.”
“The earl would have remembered something as important as a reference to the Twilight Spirit, I’m certain,” Brianna lied. Given Tavis’s recent accusations, she thought it would be wiser to smooth their host’s rumpled feathers now and arrange later for Basil to examine the volumes. “Tavis is about to leave. I thought you might like to wish him luck.”
The verbeeg pulled his satchel off his shoulder and placed it on the floor. “I’ll do more than that,” he said, opening the leather sack. “I prepared a little something that might help him sneak past the giants.”
Basil withdrew a large silver mask from his satchel. It was shaped like a smiling face, with holes where the eyes and mouth should have been. The verbeeg had etched more than a dozen of his magical runes deep into its glistening silver.
“That was a wedding gift from Lady Cuthbert’s father!” the earl yelled. “And you’ve ruined it!”
“I’ve only made it functional,” the verbeeg replied in a proud voice. “Now, it really can disguise someone.”
Brianna raised her brow. “How so?”
“Tavis can use it to make himself look like anyone he wishes-even a giant,” the runecaster explained. “All he has to do is lay the mask over the face of the person he wants to impersonate-dead or alive-and say the command word.”
“Basil is wise?” Tavis asked.
The runecaster shook his head and smiled. “Verbeegs are handsome,” he said. “The mask will take on the visage of the person it was touching. Then, when you hold it over your own face, you’ll take on the same appearance.”
“What about size?” asked Avner. “Tavis is hardly big enough to pass for a giant, even if he looks like one. And he sure doesn’t have the voice.”
Basil pointed to a rune on the cheek, then to one below the lower lip. “These will take care of the size and voice problems.” He touched another rune on the mask’s temple. “And he’ll speak the proper language-you see, I’ve thought of everything.”
“It certainly appears you have.” Brianna nodded her head in approval, then turned to Earl Cuthbert. “Perhaps, under the circumstances, you wouldn’t mind loaning the mask to Tavis?”
“By all means,” the earl grumbled.
Basil handed the mask to the scout. “Good luck, my friend.”
“This will make up for a great deal of luck,” Tavis said.
“Before you go, there’s one thing I should warn you about,” the verbeeg said. “The larger the giant you impersonate, the quicker my magic will fail.”
“How long will I have?” the scout asked.
“I wish I could say,” Basil replied. “For a hill giant, possibly three days. You might last a day as a fog giant. And-may the gods forbid-should you find yourself impersonating something like a storm giant, you’d have only a matter of hours.”
“If there’s a storm giant out there, none of us has much longer than that,” Tavis replied. He slipped the mask into his satchel. “My thanks to you, Basil-and to you, Earl Cuthbert.”
“Wear it in good health.” There was only a touch of sarcasm in the earl’s voice. Cuthbert took a tallow stick off the map case and lit the wick from Brianna’s lamp. “And the strength of Stronmaus to you-you’ll need it.”
When the earl stepped forward to give the candle to Tavis, he stubbed his foot on Basil’s satchel. The sack toppled to the floor with a clack that sounded suspiciously like stone on stone.
“What’s this?” the earl screeched. He bent down and rolled the collar of hte satchel back, revealing one of his biotite folios. He looked up at Basil with an utter expression of shock. “Thief!”
“I’m only borrowing it!” the verbeeg retorted, reciting his standard defense in such situations. “You weren’t using it, and books are meant-”
“Basil!” Brianna barked.
The verbeeg’s mouth snapped shut. He fixed his eyes on the floor. “Yes?” he asked quietly.
“I warned you about this.”
“But-”
“There’s no excuse!” Brianna yelled. “Since you’ve shown no inclination to respect our host’s property, I have no choice but to have you locked in a secure room.”
“Can I at least keep-”
Brianna silenced him with a gesture of her hand, then turned to Cuthbert. “Can you arrange that for me?”
“With pleasure,” the earl replied. He handed the candle to Tavis, then stooped down to retrieve his beloved folio, groaning loudly as he struggled to pick it up. “Since he’s a member of your company, I’ll try not to make it too unpleasant for him.”