"You are not boastful as many human fighters are," he commented; she wondered if he could read her thoughts. "It is important to know who commands. It is this person the clans owe thanks to." He took a ring off his finger, and reached out to her. "At this time we have been robbed; we have nothing. But this is in earnest of your just claim on Aldonfulk and Gnarrinfulk; it shall be redeemed fairly, on my word as Master-trader." Paks took the ring; it was black, like iron, and heavy. She nodded, wondering what to say.

"I thank you, Master-trader Addo Aldonfulk—and Journeyman Ebo."

"It is but right. You had no obligation; you had not been hired for this task. I ask your trust that this will be redeemed."

"Master-trader Addo, you have that trust. But I would free anyone from such captivity—"

"Oh?"

"It is right—"

"You have an obligation to a god? Are you sworn to such deeds, then?" He looked almost as if he might ask for the ring back.

"No, sir," said Paks. "But I serve the gods of my father's house, and they oppose evil."

"Umph. That is well, to stand with tradition. And such belief does not interfere with our owing. Keep the ring, Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter. You returned our lives."

"It was my pleasure to do so." Paks sat a moment; the gnomes were silent. "Would you," she ventured, "be my guest for another flagon of ale? With—with no obligation?" Both gnomes nodded.

"We would not willingly owe thee more," said Addo, "but it is mannerly of thee to offer. We will be thy guests."

* * *

Their brush with death had not discouraged Ambros at all. He insisted that they go again the next day. Mal grunted; he was purple from hairline to jaw where the axe-haft had caught him, and he breathed noisily.

"I wouldn't have said it before, yeoman-marshal, but I'm still head-thick from this, and I don't trust my speed. A thick eye's bad enough in daylight."

"Then you can stay," said Ambros tartly. "I've other yeomen."

Mal sighed loudly. "By Gird's arm, Ambros, I'm willing enough, but—"

"Mal, I can't wait. I can't. Something bad is going on here—I have to deal with it."

"Ambros, we did well by scouting around before attacking the robbers," said Paks. "Why not look for the place where the goods are moving out? That might be a better way in." She was thinking of the tunnel at Rotengre.

"No." Ambros shook his head stubbornly. "It takes too long—let the priest think we were frightened back by that monster. It's a door-guard, I imagine—"

"Certainly so," said Arvid.

"Then, when he knows we've killed it but have gone away, he may be careless for a space. A short space, in which we must strike."

Arvid looked at him curiously. "Are you angry, yeoman-marshal, that I bade you stay back with the light?"