The Liar's Key (The Red Queen's War 2)

The monster smiled, a broad thing revealing many sharp teeth but not unfriendly. “You stand beneath Halradra, a fire-mountain within the Heimrift. These caverns were gifted to my brothers here by Alaric, Duke of Maladon.”

“Maladon!” I couldn’t keep it in. “Thank God.” If it weren’t for all the trolls watching I’d have sunk to my knees and kissed the mud.

“And I,” the beast continued, “am Gorgoth.”

“You rule here?” Snorri asked.

The monster shrugged and I could swear he looked embarrassed. “They call me their king, but—”

“Prince Jalan Kendeth, grandson to the Red Queen of the March.” I thrust out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Gorgoth looked down at my hand, as if uncertain what to do with it. I was about to pull it back in case he might snap it off or take a bite, but he folded it in his three-fingered grip, and for a moment I felt a hint of his strength.

“So,” I said, reclaiming my hand and making it into a fist to keep the ache at bay. “So, I hope as King of Hal . . . uh . . .”

“Radra,” Snorri supplied.

“Yes, Halradra.” I shot Snorri a sour glance. “As King of . . . beneath this mountain . . . I hope you’ll extend the courtesy due to another Empire royal and have us escorted to the borders of your land.”

Gorgoth made no indication that he’d heard me. Instead he sunk to one knee and extended his open hand toward Hennan. “How is it that you have a child with you, and blood upon your axes?” Then focusing those cat’s eyes of his upon the boy, “Come.”

I’ll give the little bastard credit, he showed as much courage or foolhardiness by dark as by day. We met him racing back into the teeth of a Hardassa raiding party and now he came forward on steady feet and put his small hand into the palm of the king of the trolls.

“Your name, child?”

“Hennan . . . sir.”

“I had a little brother,” the monster said. “He would be about your age now . . .” He released the boy and stood. “My new brothers are preparing to march to a new home, seven hundred miles to the southwest. It lies in the Renar Highlands. You may travel with us for any part of your journey that takes you in that direction.”

“That would be gr—” I mastered my enthusiasm. “That seems acceptable.” I couldn’t bring myself to call him sire. But it did sound great. As long as they didn’t eat us I could think of no bodyguards better suited to keeping the Dead King’s servants off our backs. Men tend to stay dead if you eat them! “When do you plan to depart?”

“The Duke of Maladon is providing an escort to prevent any misunderstandings with his people. They should be here within a week. The truce states we are to travel after the feast of Heimdal. And that no human is to set foot upon Halradra until that time . . . The duke’s men patrol to ensure no one wanders this way.”

“We came by paths beyond the duke’s ability to guard,” Kara said. “Can we impose upon your hospitality, King Gorgoth, now that we are here, and stay until you’re ready to depart?”

I bristled at this—enduring the stink of trolls and staying in a dark damp cave when I could be supping ale at the duke’s table. I saw the Undoreth frown too. But in the end I hadn’t it in me to slog through mountains and forests to reach the duke and his halls, not even if the ale were nectar served by naked goddesses: I just needed to lie down and sleep, wet floor or not.

“You may stay,” Gorgoth said. And that was that.

SIXTEEN

They gave us a cave opening onto the dreary slopes of Halradra, with views of unrelenting pine forest. I lay down exhausted and tried to get comfortable and fell asleep within moments.

“This spear you found in the cavern . . .” Kara’s voice.

I jerked awake, disoriented, discovering that it had grown dark. Kara had lit a fire at the cave entrance and sat close to the flames, examining one of the last rune tablets still depending from her braids. “I didn’t find it in the cavern.”

“You were lying on it, you said.”

“I found it in my dream. I took it from the warlord.” It sounded foolish even to me. It must have been on the floor, discarded as inedible by the troll that killed its previous owner. Only it hadn’t been. I’d seen it in Grandmother’s memories, down to the last detail.

“It’s hard to believe it was just left there,” Snorri said, moving from the gloom, his face now lit by the fire.

“It wasn’t. It was in my—”