«That should pose no problem. Just tell me where I can reach you, and I’ll bring the stones to you there after I’ve checked out your story. I’ll be down in the Southland in several months or so.»
Shea was absolutely beside himself with anger, and he leaped to his feet in a rage.
«Why, you’re nothing but a thief, a common highwayman!» he stormed, bracing the other defiantly.
Panamon Creel erupted suddenly into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, holding his sides in mirth. He finally regained control of himself, shaking his head in disbelief as the tears rolled down his broad face. Shea looked on in astonishment, unable to see what was so humorous about the accusation. Even the huge Rock Troll had stopped momentarily and turned to look at them, his placid face dark and expressionless.
«Shea, I have to admire a man who speaks his mind,” exclaimed the stranger, still chuckling in delight. «No one could accuse you of being unperceptive!»
The irate Valeman started to make a hasty retort and then caught himself quickly as the facts of the situation recalled themselves sharply in his puzzled mind. What were these two strange companions doing in this part of the Northland? Why had they bothered to rescue him in the first place? How had they even known he was a prisoner of the small band of Gnomes? He realized the truth in an instant; it had been so obvious that he had overlooked it.
«Panamon Creel, the kind rescuer!» he mocked bitterly. «No wonder you found my remark so amusing. You and your friend are exactly what I called you. You are thieves, robbers, highwaymen! It was the stones you were after all along! How low can you be…?»
«Watch your tongue, youngster!» The scarlet stranger leaped in front of him, brandishing the iron pike. The broad face was distorted in sudden hate, the constant smile suddenly villainous beneath the small mustache as anger flashed sharply in the dark eyes. «What you may, think of us had best be kept to yourself. I’ve come a long way in this world, and no one has ever given me anything! Since this is so, I let no man take anything away!»
Shea backed away guardedly, terrified that he had foolishly overstepped his bounds with the unpredictable pair. Undoubtedly, his own rescue had been almost an afterthought on their part, their primary concern having been the theft of the Elfstones from the Gnome raiders. Panamon Creel was no one to fool around with, and a reckless tongue at this stage of the game could cost the Valeman his life. The tall thief stared balefully at his frightened captive a moment longer and then stepped back slowly, the angered features relaxing and a faint hint of his former good–naturedness returning in a quick smile.
«Why should we deny it, Keltset and I?» He swaggered backward and around a few paces, wheeling abruptly on Shea again. «We are wayfarers of fortune, he and I. Men who live by their wits and by their cunning — yet we are no different than other men, save in our methods. And perhaps our disdain for hypocrisy! All men are thieves in one way or another; we are simply the old–fashioned type, the honest type who are not ashamed of what they are.»
«How did you happen on this camp?» Shea asked hesitantly, fearful of aggravating the temperamental man further.
«We came across their fire last night, just after sunset,” the other replied easily, all traces of hostility gone. «I came down to the edge of the clearing for a closer look and saw my little yellow friends playing with those three blue gems. I saw you as well, all trussed up for delivery. So I decided to bring Keltset down and kill two birds with one stone — ah, ha, you see, I wasn’t lying when I told you that I did not like to see a fellow Southlander in the hands of those devils!»
Shea nodded, happy to be free, but unsure whether he was better off now than when he had been a prisoner of the Gnomes.
«Quit worrying, friend.» Panamon Creel recognized the unspoken fear. «We don’t mean you any harm. We only want the stones — they’ll bring a good price, and we can use the money. You’re free to go back to where you came from anytime.»
He turned away abruptly and walked over to the waiting Keltset, who was standing obediently next to a small pile of arms, clothing, and assorted articles of value that he had collected from the fallen Gnomes.
The huge frame of the Troll dwarfed the normally large figure of his companion; the dark, barklike skin made him appear somewhat like a gnarled tree casting its shadow over the scarlet–clad human The two conversed briefly, Panamon speaking in low tones to his giant friend while the other replied with sign language and nods of his broad head. They turned to the pile of goods, which the man shuffled through quickly, casting most of the effects aside as useless junk. Shea watched momentarily, uncertain what he should do next. He had lost the stones, and without them he was virtually defenseless in this savage land. He had lost his companions in the Dragon’s Teeth, the only ones who would stand with him, the only ones who could really help him recover the stones. He had come so far that it was unthinkable to turn back now, even if he thought he could do so safely. The others in the company depended on him, and he would never desert Flick and Menion whatever the dangers involved.
Panamon Creel cast a short glance over his shoulder to see if the Valeman had made any move to leave, and a faint trace of surprise registered on his handsome face when he saw the youth still standing where he had left him.
«What are you waiting for?»
Shea shook his head slowly, indicating that he wasn’t quite sure. The tall thief watched him a moment longer, and then waved him over with a short smile.
«Come on and have a bite to eat, Shea,” he invited. «The least we can do is feed you before you start back for the Southland.»
Fifteen minutes later the three were seated around a small campfire, watching strips of dried beef warm enticingly in the smoking heat. The mute Keltset sat silently next to the little Valeman, the deep eyes fixed on the smoking meat, the huge hands clasped childlike as he squatted before the small fire. Shea had an uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch the strange creature, to feel the rough, barklike skin. The features of the Troll were indescribably bland even from this close distance. The Troll never moved while the meat was cooking, but sat absolutely still like some immobile rock that time and the ages had passed by without changing. Panamon Creel glanced over once and noticed Shea casting a watchful eye on the huge creature. He smiled broadly, one hand coming across to clap the startled Valeman on the shoulder.
«He won’t bite — long as he gets fed! I keep telling you the same thing, but you don’t listen. That’s youth for you — wild and fancy free and no time for the old folks. Keltset is just like you and me, only bigger and quieter, which is what I like in a partner in this line of work. He does his job better than any man I’ve ever worked with, and I’ve worked with quite a few, I can tell you.»
«He does what you tell him, I suppose?» Shea asked shortly.
«Sure he does, sure he does,” came the quick answer, then the scarlet figure bent closer to the other’s pale face, the iron pike coming up sharply in emphasis. «But don’t get me wrong, boy, because I don’t mean to say he’s any kind of animal. He can think for himself when it’s needed. But I was his friend when no one else would even look his way — no one! He’s the strongest living thing I’ve ever seen. He could crush me without half thinking about it. But do you know what? I beat him, and now he follows me!»
He paused to judge the other’s reaction, eyes wide with delight at the Valeman’s startled look of disbelief. He laughed merrily and slapped his knee with exaggerated humor at the reaction he had drawn.
«I beat him with friendship, not strength! I respected him as a man, treated him as an equal, and for that cheap price, I won his loyalty. Hah, surprised you!»