"Nonsense. An agreement is an agreement." The verbeeg reached into the straw heap. "Thieves' honor and all that."
Tavis lowered his bow and looked at Avner. "What agreement?"
Avner's only answer was a guilty look.
With a heavy groan, Basil pulled an enormous moose-skin sack from beneath the straw. "In return for hiding me, I promised Avner half the treasure I took from the lord mayor's house," the verbeeg explained. He turned the bag over and emptied an entire library of leather-bound books onto the barn's grimy floor. "You choose first, Avner."
"Books?" the youth shrieked. "I risked my life for ink and parchment?"
Basil's bushy eyebrows came together in irritation. "My boy, knowledge is the greatest treasure." The verbeeg stooped down and selected a book. "But since you have no conception of the riches before you, I'll choose first'.'
From outside the barn, Brianna called, "Tavis? What's happening in there?"
Tavis spun toward the barn door, which hung ajar so that he could not see into the courtyard. "Wait a moment!"
"Why?" Brianna demanded. Her voice sounded louder, as though she were approaching the barn. "Is something wrong?"
Tavis could not think of what to say. Like all firbolgs, it was nearly impossible for him to lie. He understood the concept well enough, but the strain of uttering false words affected his race more than any other giant-kin. If he said something untrue, his voice would crack, he would breakout, in a cold sweat, and his guilty conscience would not let him sleep for a tenday. Therefore, he did what most firbolgs did when they could not answer a question honestly: he did not reply.
Turning to Avner and Basil. Tavis whispered, "Into the loft with you, quick!"
Avner scrambled up in a flash, but Basil was too large to move quickly. He had to climb more slowly, gripping the side rails and taking great care to place each huge foot squarely on the narrow ladder treads. Cursing the verbeeg's clumsiness. Tavis grabbed an armful of straw and threw it over the books.
"Tavis?" demanded Brianna. "Why don't you answer?"
The innkeeper covered the last book, then looked up. Brianna and Morten stood at the door, squinting into the dim barn.
"Just a moment-"
Tavis was interrupted by the crack of a snapping board. A loud thud quickly followed, then Basil moaned in pain. The innkeeper wheeled around and saw the verbeeg sprawled on the floor, the loft ladder lying in pieces around him.
"How unfortunate," Basil groaned. He pushed himself into a sitting position, then grabbed a shard of gray board. "I feared I was too heavy for the ladder."
A pair of lumbering feet thundered across the barn floor as Morten rushed to Tavis's side. The bodyguard touched the tip of his great sword to Basil's throat and said nothing. Lady Brianna followed, though her steps fell silent before she reached the scout. Tavis turned around in time to see her pull a book from beneath the straw. She opened the cover to the title page.
"A Full History of the Dobbins of Stagwick, by Neville Dobbin, the thirty-fifth Earl of Stagwick," she read.
Tavis took a single step toward her. "Let me explain."
"You don't have to," Brianna replied. "I can see for myself what's going on here."
The princess drew her arm back and threw the book. It caught Tavis square in the forehead, breaking the binding and scattering leaves of parchment in every direction. The blow was incredibly powerful, much more forceful than the scout would have expected even for Brianna's large frame, and he found himself stumbling backward, until at last he tripped over Basil's feet and crashed down at the verbeeg's side.
"Please, Brianna. I know this looks bad-"
"You played me for a fool, Tavis." the princess snapped. "While I was protecting you from Earl Dobbin, you were looting Stagwick-and I was blind to what everyone else saw as plainly as the sun in the sky!"
"No!" Tavis started to rise, but quickly found the tip of Morten's sword at his throat. "That's not what happened!"
Brianna shook her head angrily. "How could you do this?"
With that, she stepped into Blizzard's stall and untied the mare. "I'll send someone for the children this evening, I can only hope you haven't corrupted them beyond redemption." She started toward the door and added, "I expect you to begone by then. It will spare me an abundance of humiliation-and save you several decades of torture in my father's dungeon."
Though Brianna's voice was cracking with grief, she did not look back.
Blizzard snorted, then tossed her head and slowed from a gallop to a trot, angrily stamping the ground each time her front hooves came down. Brianna reluctantly reined her mount to a stop. She leaned forward and stroked the mare's sleek neck.
"What is it, girl?"
The horse tipped her ears forward and flared her nostrils. After testing the air for a moment. Blizzard's muscles tensed, and she became as motionless as a statue.
