Still chuckling at his thin attempt at humor, the thief lifted the strips of beef from the fire and held out the stick on which they rested to the silent Troll, who removed several and began munching hungrily. Shea helped himself slowly when offered and suddenly realized that he was starving. He couldn’t even remember when he had eaten last, and gnawed ravenously at the tasty beef. Panamon Creel shook his head in amusement and offered the Valeman a second piece before taking one himself. The three ate in silence for several minutes before Shea ventured a further inquiry concerning his companions.
«What made you decide to become… robbers?» he asked guardedly.
Panamon Creel shot a quick look at him, arching his eyebrows in surprise.
«What do you care what the reasons were? Plan on writing our life story?» He paused and caught himself suddenly, smiling quickly at his own irritability. «There’s no secret to it, Shea. I’ve never been much at making an honest living, never very good at common work. I was a wild kid, loved adventure, loved the outdoors — hated work. Then I lost my hand in an accident, and it became even harder to find work that would make me a comfortable living, get me what I wanted. I was deep in the Southland then, living in Talhan. I got in a little trouble and then a lot more. The next thing I knew I was roaming the four lands robbing for a living. The funny thing was I found myself so good at it that I couldn’t quit. And I enjoyed it — all of it! So here I am, maybe not rich, but happy in the prime of my youth — or at least, my manhood.»
«Don’t you ever think about going back?» Shea persisted, unable to believe the man was being honest with himself. «Don’t you ever think about a home and…?»
«Please, let’s not be maudlin, lad!» The other roared in laughter. «Keep this up and you’ll have me in tears, begging for forgiveness on my tired old knees!»
He broke into such an uncontrollable fit of raucous guffaws that even the silent Troll glanced over in quiet contemplation for a moment before returning to his meal. Shea felt a fierce flush of indignation spreading over his face and turned slowly back to his food, chewing the beef with grinding bites of anger and embarrassment. After several moments the laughter died into small chuckles, the thief shaking his head in amusement as he tried to swallow a little food. Then without further prompting, he continued his narration in a quieter tone of voice.
«Keltset has a different story than mine, I want to make that clear. I had no reason to take up this kind of life, but he had every reason. He was a mute since birth, and the Trolls don’t like deformed people. Kind of a joke on them, I guess. So they made life pretty rough for him, kicked him around and beat him when they were mad at anything that they couldn’t take their anger out on directly. He was the butt of every joke, but he never fought back because those people were all he had. Then he became big, so big and strong that the others were frightened of him. One night some of the young ones tried to hurt him, really hurt him so he might go away, even die. But it didn’t work out quite as they expected. They pushed him too far, and he fought back and killed three of them. As a result he was driven from the village, and an outcast Troll has no home once outside his own tribe or whatever they are. So he wandered around on his own until I found him.»
He smiled faintly and looked over at the massive, placid face bent intently over the last several strips of beef, eating hungrily.
«He knows what we’re doing, though, and I guess he knows that it’s not honest work. But he’s like a child who’s been so badly mistreated that he has no respect for other people because they never did him any good. Besides, we stay in this part of the country where there’s only Gnomes and Dwarfs — a Troll’s natural enemies. We steer away from the deep Northland and seldom get south very far. We do all right.»
He returned to his piece of beef, munching absently as he stared into the dying embers of the fire, poking them with the toe of his leather boot, the sparks rising in small showers and fading into dust. Shea finished his own food without further comment, wondering what he could possibly do to regain the Elfstones, wishing that he knew where the other members of the company were now. Moments later the meal was ended, and the scarlet–clad thief rose abruptly, scattering the embers of the fire with a swift kick of his boot. The massive Rock Troll rose with him and stood quietly waiting for his friend to make the next move, his great bulk towering over Shea. The Valeman stood at last and watched Panamon Creel gather up several small trinkets and a few weapons to place in a sack which he handed to Keltset to carry. Then he turned to his small captive and nodded shortly.
«It’s been interesting knowing you, Shea, and I wish you good luck. When I think of the little gems in this pouch, I shall think of you. Too bad it couldn’t work out so that you could save them, but at least you saved your life — or rather, I saved it. Think of the stones as a gift for services rendered. It may make losing them easier. Now you’d better be moving along if you plan to reach the safety of the Southland in the next several days. The city of Varfleet lies just to the south and west, and you’ll find help there. Just stick to the open country.»
He turned to leave, motioning Keltset to follow and had taken several long strides before he glanced back over his shoulder. The Valeman had not moved, but was looking after the departing men as if in a trance. Panamon Creel shook his head in disgust and walked a bit farther, then stopped in annoyance and wheeled about, knowing the other was still standing immobile where he had left him.
«What’s the matter with you?» he demanded angrily. «Now don’t tell me that you have any foolish ideas about trailing us and trying to get the gems back? That would spoil a very nice relationship because I’d have to cut your ears off — maybe worse! Now get going, get out of here!»
«You don’t understand what those stones mean!» Shea shouted desperately.
«I think I do,” came the quick reply. «They mean that for a while Keltset and I will be more than merely poverty–stricken thieves. It means we won’t have to steal or beg for a handout for quite sometime. It means money, Shea.»
Desperately, Shea dashed after the two robbers, unable to think of anything but recovering the precious Elfstones. Panamon Creel watched him approach in astonishment, certain that the Valeman was crazed to the point of daring to attack them to regain possession of the three blue gems. Never had he encountered such a persistent fellow in all his days. He had spared the lad’s life and graciously given him his freedom, but still it didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy him. Shea came to a panting halt several yards away from the two tall figures, and the thought flashed through his mind that he had reached the end of his rope. Their patience was exhausted and now they would dispose of him without further consideration.
«I didn’t tell you the truth before,” he gasped finally. «I couldn’t… I don’t know it all myself. But the stones are very important — not only to me, but to everyone in all the lands. Even to you, Panamon.»
The scarlet robber looked at him with a mixture of surprise and distrust, the smile gone, but the dark eyes still free of anger. He said nothing, but stood motionless waiting for the exasperated Valeman to speak further.
«You’ve got to believe me!» Shea exclaimed vehemently. «There’s more to this than you realize.»
«You certainly seem to believe so,” admitted the other flatly. He looked over at the huge Keltset, who stood at his elbow, and shrugged his incredulity at Shea’s strange behavior. The Rock Troll made a quick move toward Shea, and the Valeman shrank back in terror, but Panamon Creel stopped his massive companion with a raised hand.