3
When the first fingers of dawn brushed the dusty rafters of the common room, he gave up the quest for sleep, made his way to the ramshackle stable, and rode out in search of a stone bridge somewhere in the wilderness.
He kept the river just off his right shoulder until the river split in twain. On the far side, the roaring Drava surged from behind a sudden green wall of forest to crash into the Kiskorei, creating the mighty torrent that foamed and roared on its way to the Inland Sea.
Somewhere in the rapidly widening spit of land between the two rivers was Kani's goal.
He followed the Kiskorei upriver, as it wandered alone along the edge of the prairie, its waters still pale with the memory of mountain ice.
Gradually, trees grew up around him, and their shadows swallowed the road. The last of the caravan routes split away from the river entirely, heading off toward Kalmar proper.
A smaller path, grown over from disuse, continued by the Kiskorei. Here, closer to its roots, the river was smaller and no longer impossible to ford.
He found a likely crossing; too deep and fast for a man, but not impossible for a horse. Large, sturdy rocks thrust above the surface here and there, breaking the water's strength. This close to the mountains, the water was far too cold for river dragons. They reached the other side dripping wet, but otherwise none the worse for wear, and in the warm sun cloth and hide dried quickly.
Kani continued along on the other side of the Kiskorei, watching for some sign of the second, smaller river he sought. He varied the pace between a walk and a canter, yawning now and again, for Tufenk's gaits were marvelously smooth.
The water's hiss and roar accompanied him, fading in and out of the trees as the trail wove along beside it. He found himself nodding in the saddle and straightened, blinking, to glance up at the sun.
It was not yet noon. There was plenty of daylight left, and after the past two nights, he was exhausted. He had to have his wits about him to defeat a troll. And Tufenk had traveled long and hard. Who knew when she would have a chance to graze and drink her fill again? A short rest would benefit them both.
At the next glade, he dismounted and loosened her tack, then removed her bridle; she would not stray far from his side. As she cropped the grass, he pulled the lump of cheese from his satchel and took a few bites, washing it down with water. He rewrapped the cheese and stuck it back in his pouch, ate his only remaining fig, and lay down to rest.
Tufenk's soft nose in his face woke him. She pushed him again, inquiring. He blinked, then sat up with an oath that made the mare start. Tir na n'Og's sun rose and set in a different place each day, but surely when he lay down it had not been so low on the horizon. It was well into the afternoon.
Betrayed by his own exhaustion, he had slept the day away. Who knew how much farther they had yet to go?
He remembered Hairy-Fairy's warning. Arriving in daylight would give him an advantage over the troll. Trolls could not endure sunlight. He had perhaps three hours left, or he would be approaching the troll by dark.
"Oh, Tufenk, you should have awakened me hours ago," he moaned. "Seeker and Allysia are right; their Robert would never have slept the day away like this. What are we to do?"
He scrambled to his feet and within moments they were racing down the trail, the shadows stretched long before them.
Tufenk's muffled hoofbeats resounded through his body with an urgent rhythm, and he sent a prayer skyward. He didn't even know what to ask for. The strength of ten men? A magic, troll-slaying potion? A miracle?
Tufenk shied at a sudden noise and a flash of movement. He brought her to a halt, his every sense alert.
Beside the trail, a bush rustled. Kani drew the foot-and-a-half long dagger he wore at his side; Tufenk was not given to spooking at naught. The bush quivered, and an almost inaudible peep rose from it. Dismounting, he approached the bush and parted the thick leaves.
A young swallow, tuffs of down still visible around its wings, stared back at him with beady-eyed terror. The bird was caught in the tangle of brambles, probably following some tasty insect and not watching where it was going.
"There, now, little one," murmured Kani, sheathing his dagger, "I shan't hurt you. Let's get you out of there. And from now on, you'll be far more careful of where you fly, will you not?"
He reached for the bird, gently closing his hand around it while he carefully worked the stickers free from the delicate legs and feathers. The bird fluttered briefly, then was still, as if it knew he was trying to help. It lay quietly, its tiny heart beating a frantic tattoo against his fingers.
In the moment before he opened his hand to let it fly free, he paused.
Was it not fortuitous that this bird should be trapped here, just as he was riding by, where men did not come every day? Equally strange and fortuitous that its struggles should spook Tufenk?
No, not simply fortuitous.
His scalp tingled, and his heart quickened. It was an omen. Allah had answered his prayer.
He had no idea why he might need the swallow, but he carefully slipped it into his satchel. His hand encountered a lump of cloth, and he remembered the cheese.
A slow smile curved his lips. He shifted the bird, nestling it carefully in a wadded kerchief.
Trolls were tough and dangerous. But they could be tricked. Had not his mother often regaled her children with delightful tales of great heroes who bested Fey with cleverness?
Remounting Tufenk, he rode on.
The afternoon lay heavy on the land when the river he sought cut across his path, and he turned to ride beside it. He had not gone far when the trees parted and he saw, on the hillside overlooking the trail, the remains of a town; a cluster of stone houses, some with their walls still intact, but roofless and lifeless.
He drew Tufenk to a halt. This had to be the place of which the Hairy-Fairy had spoken. "I think it best if you do not come with me," he whispered to the mare. "Trolls are known to have a fondness for the flesh of horses, as they do that of men."
He considered hiding her in one of the houses, but quickly abandoned the idea. Who knew what might haunt them? The wolves and other predators who hunted the forest were at least natural beasts, and Tufenk could outrun them.
He dismounted and led her to a thicket, where he tied her loosely, so that she might escape at need. She would wait for him until hunger or thirst became unbearable.
He settled his helmet more securely on his head; it effectively hid his mark. He hesitated a long, long moment before removing his bow from the sheath on his thigh and hanging it over his saddlebow. For his plan to work, the troll had to come to him, and he doubted the creature would venture into plain view if he carried a bow.
His dagger he left attached to his side; he could not deprive himself entirely of weapons, and the blade was the lesser threat. He stroked Tufenk's neck. "Take care of my bow, and of yourself. With luck, I will be back before full dark." With a final pat on the neck, he left her and continued up the river.
He did not have to go far; around the next bend was the crumbling stone bridge, just as Hairy-Fairy had portrayed it. Kani swallowed. He had never seen a troll. He hoped he would see this one before it pounced on him and gobbled him up.
He looked around, studying his surroundings. The late afternoon sun had slipped behind the hill, and the sunlight hovered over the deserted buildings, still brushing the tops of the trees. The houses that rose away from the road he walked were, for the most part, still in sunlight, but trees crowded around the town and had begun to reclaim the streets, casting the bridge and the area around it in heavy shade. The sun probably never even made it through.
Surely, it was dim enough for the troll to feel secure. His fledgling plan depended upon it. He scanned the area carefully, noting where the sunlight still held sway, where the shadows lay thick and dark.
As he approached the bridge, a breeze carried an unmistakable message. He stopped and put his hand over
his nose and mouth. The stench was horrible; a blend of rotten offal, human and animal waste, old blood, moldering vegetation, and stagnant water.
He had heard of the stink of trolkien. From the evidence, Kani was willing to bet that it was a gift of their trollish heritage.
Well, fortune favored the bold. He took a deep breath, then lowered his hand and marched forward, slipping down the side of the bank. He made his way toward the shadowed arch beneath the bridge and stopped just beyond it. He paused, making sure the words were clear in his mind. But neither Seeker nor Allysia was here; his English came clearly to mind and tongue.
With a final prayer to Allah for guidance, and that his command of the language would not fail him, he drew himself up. "Ho, troll, I have come to speak with you. Come out."
There was a moment of silence. Kani's hands tightened on the pommel of his blade. He felt a fresh twinge of doubt. Suppose the troll didn't understand his English? Suppose it didn't understand Turkish either? Suppose it took Kani's words as some deadly insult to its mother? Or a proposal of marriage?
As moments passed, another worry intruded. Suppose the troll no longer even lived here?
But no, the thick, eye-watering stench was unmistakable. This was definitely the home of a troll, or something equally unwholesome.
"Go away," said a deep, rumbling voice. It sounded thick, as if not meant for speech.
Kani blinked. He had expected a stealthy assault, or at least a roaring charge. Not this sleepy rejection. "I will not. I have come to speak with you on a matter of great importance."
In the shadows beneath the bridge, something moved. "Me not want to. Go away."
"But I just want to speak with you. Why not?"
More movement in the shadows. "You want fight troll. Me want sleep."
"But…but I don't," Kani spluttered. "If I did, I would offer honorable combat, and you would die like a man."
"How me do that? Me not man."
"Well, like a troll, then," said Kani impatiently. "In fact, you may die any way you like. But not today. Just come out."
For a moment, Kani thought the thing was choking; then he realized the deep, gagging noise was the creature's laugh. "Then me die in nest with beautiful she-troll," it replied. "Go away."
Kani blinked, nonplussed. He had always heard that trolls were not terribly bright, but this one seemed clever enough.
Though perhaps he'd made it too easy for the thing. It was time he started using his own wits.
He sighed, loudly. "But if you do not come out, who will eat the great feast I have planned? Fresh roasted goat with almonds and honey, and cous-cous with currents and spices such as my mother always made for me."
A pale light appeared in the darkness under the bridge, and he realized with a start that it was one of the troll's eyes, peering at him from a curtain of filthy hair. He cleared his throat and continued more loudly, gazing aloft as if with longing. "Ah, so many good things. Bread still steaming from the oven, dripping with jam from fresh strawberries. Great, fat mushrooms, and eggplant, and onions, roasted over a fire with garlic and butter…."
"You make feast?" There were two eyes now, burning up at him from the shadows beneath the bridge.
Kani shrugged. "What would it profit? You will not come out, so I have no one with whom to share my glorious feast."
It moved so quickly he had no chance to draw his dagger even if he'd wanted to. It lunged from under the bridge, towering before him. Great hands clutched him around the torso, pinning his arms to his side, and the troll lifted him up to stare into his face with huge, bulbous eyes.
It was manlike, or seemed to be under all that hair. Its face was a grotesque blend of man and beast, great tusks thrusting from the corners of its mouth. Its breath stank as badly as the rest of it. Kani was almost grateful that the creature's grip around his ribs kept him from drawing a deep breath.
"You bring feast?" asked the troll. "Where feast?"
Kani cleared his throat. "That I cannot answer, for I had planned on getting it from you."
The troll scowled. "Funny little mans. Me eat you instead." It opened its mouth of crooked, rotting teeth. Sharp, crooked, rotting teeth.
Kani's heart pounded, but he kept his voice light. "But I have been hungry for such a long time I am nothing but skin and bones, as surely you can feel. How much better it would be for you to enjoy the wonderful feast I could prepare for you."
The troll closed its mouth and stared at him uncertainly. "You make feast?"
Kani smiled broadly. "But of course! Where I come from, the men are expected to be as capable in the kitchen as the women." A lie, but the troll was unlikely to know that. "I have come a long way for just that purpose. You see, I have heard that you have a wonderful tablecloth that allows one to create gourmet feasts limited only by the imagination! How I have longed to test my skills to such an extent. And who but a troll could manage to eat all the fruits of my labors?"
"Huh?"
"Do you not see — it is perfect," Kani insisted. "I am Ascham Kani, the greatest chef in all of Sahyun. I have been searching for the ultimate act of creation, the greatest meal ever conceived by man, and you — well, you, my friend, are a troll, am I right?"
"Uh…."
"And I'll wager you have made no good use of that cloth yourself."
"Me eat. It make meat."
"Ah. Burnt over a fire, I imagine."
"How you make it do that?"
Kani stared. "You mean to say…you have a magical tablecloth that will give you anything you want, and all it gives to you is raw meat?"
The troll shifted from one foot to the other and looked away. "Fire not burn so good under bridge. Wood get wet."
"But the cloth should prepare it for you, already cooked. All you have to do is tell it what you want."
"Show me."
"Very well. Bring to me the cloth, and wish for food."
He had hoped the troll would put him down and go fetch the cloth. Instead, it tucked him into its less-than-fragrant armpit like a goose and lumbered back to the bridge. Reaching under the arch, it groped in the stinking darkness beneath, muttering to itself. Unseen things rattled and clanked, and the beast tossed out a well-chewed cow skull.
The troll grunted, then reached under again, and began tossing out a barrage of chewed bones — not all of them animal — bits of broken crockery, chunks of rock, torn and crumpled armor, the occasional dented sword or broken-hafted axe, and other trash.
The reek from the disturbed troll-nest made Kani's eyes water; he prayed he would not lose control of his stomach, biting the inside of his cheek to distract himself.
Finally the troll pulled out a wad of red and white cloth and, with a noise of satisfaction that was just as disgusting as its other sounds, thrust it into Kani's face. "Here is cloth. Make food."
Kani cleared his throat. "It is difficult to do so in this position. You must put me down."
The troll turned Kani around, resuming its grip around his body, and raised him up to its face. Its scowl rendered its features even more hideous. "You not run away?"
Kani drew himself up, as much as was possible while dangling in the troll's grasp. "What? Flee? I, Ascham Kani, greatest chef in all of Sahyun? Never!"
The troll thought about it. Kani waited, feet dangling, hoping the troll could not feel his heart pounding against his bruised ribs. "Me put you down. You stay. You cook for me," it replied at last. "If me not like, me eat you."
"That is only fair," said Kani.
The troll set him down and dropped the cloth on the muddy riverbank. "Food!" it roared.
The cloth unfolded limply. Nothing happened.
The troll glowered at it. "Me hate when that happen."
Kani cleared his throat. "If I understand the spell, you must tell the cloth what kind of food you want. Use your imagination."
The troll scratched its head. Then it g
lared down at the cloth, brow puckered in concentration. "Want…meat!"
The cloth was suddenly covered by various body parts of an assortment of animals, all of it completely uncooked. The troll looked frustrated. "Me not wish too good. This only thing me get."
Kani shook his head. "You see, that is why you need me to make a feast for you. Such magic requires imagination, training, a wide range of experience and tastes." He reached down and gingerly grasped a corner of the cloth. What to do with all this dead animal? "First, I fear I must be rid of…." He gave the cloth a tug, intending to roll the meat off of it; instead, the entire pile of flesh vanished. He straightened in surprise. This might well be easier than he had thought.
He shook the cloth out and examined it carefully. It was all brilliant red and white checks, a cheerful thing, somehow miraculously unstained despite its recent history. He drew a deep breath and looked around for an even surface on which to spread it. The bridge curving above his head caught his eye. Perfect. He pointed. "Let us retire to the top of the bridge, so that nothing falls into the water."
The troll looked nervous. "Sun still there."
"Not on the bridge. The trees have cast it entirely in the deepest shadow. You will be quite safe." Without giving the troll the chance to argue, he thrust the cloth into the front of his leather-lamellar cuirass, leaped up, caught the edge of the bridge where the railing had crumbled away, and began to haul himself up.
The troll beat him there, and yanked him up by the scruff of his neck. It scowled into his face to make its point, then set him on his feet again. With the troll looming over his shoulder, he walked to the center of the bridge and sat cross-legged, spreading the cloth carefully before him.
Allah, let this work. "Let there be tender kid goat with almonds and honey, as my mother made it," he said, picturing the flavor on his tongue, remembering the scent as it had filled the kitchen in his youth. "Let there be cous-cous, and fresh, hot bread. Let there be roasted vegetables, such as my mother made. Let there be wild strawberry jam, and honey-cakes, and hare with paprika, and lamb with prunes, and stuffed olives, and…."
One by one, smoking platters appeared on the cloth before him, covered with the foods he remembered. The savory aroma that filled the air overwhelmed the stench of the troll.
Kani ventured a taste of the nearest dish; it put his mother's most admirable efforts to shame. Some magic in the cloth, he reasoned, rendered everything more succulent. He beamed up at the troll. "There, you see? Please, sit! Eat!"
The troll stared at the spread before it. A string of drool cascaded from its gaping mouth and puddled on the stones. Then it bellowed, "Food!" and crouched down, scooping up the contents of the nearest platter with both hands.
The troll ate, and Kani conjured more food. Truly, the cloth was miraculous; as soon as he wished for a thing, it appeared, in far more perfect a form than any human chef could have managed. Huge puff pastries, stuffed with scrambled eggs and chicken, and dusted with sugar. Fat ducks roasted with lemons and oranges, broiled apples with nuts and brown sugar spilling from the hollowed cores, whole loaves of white bread, dark brown rolls, savory meat pies, dates stuffed with cheese or almonds and rolled in sugar, great squashes roasted with garlic and spices — all of it disappeared down the troll's gullet almost as fast as Kani could wish it into existence, and still the cloth brought more.
The troll emptied the dishes, tossing them over its shoulder to shatter against the rocks or plunge into the river. Kani watched, sipping mint tea, his own appetite having vanished.
"Are you enjoying it, my friend?" he asked at last.
The troll looked up, bits of this and that clinging to the hair around its face. "Food good. Want more.”
Kani smiled and said, "But of course," while he wracked his brains. The artful creations were wasted on the troll, of course, since it did not seem to know good from bad, but the impression was important. He wished up a roasted boar — ugh — and watched as the troll crunched it down, bones and all, followed quickly by a layered marzipan confection.
The troll's appetite showed no signs of slowing. Time to move on to the next part of his plan. "With such a fine feast, you will want a beverage to match. Let me introduce you to a delicacy of my homeland."
The troll looked at him and belched. "Beer!"
Kani grimaced. This was not what he'd had in mind. Well, hopefully the cloth knew good from bad. "But of course! A fine brew from…" Where was good beer from, anyway? "…eh, Kalmar. Yes, and mead as well!" Huge flagons appeared, and the troll scooped them both up, draining first one, then the other.
"More!"
"Yes, well…beer from…from…."
"More!"
"Killaloe! Yes, beer from Killaloe."
A fresh flagon appeared. The troll drank, then spat it out, spraying the cloth and Kani with yeasty foam. "This not beer! This bad water! And it warm!"
Kani thought frantically. Surely Killaloans prided themselves on their beer. Ah, wait. "Eh, the very finest beer from Drachenfel."
This time the liquid was so dark Kani thought the cloth had misunderstood and given him wine. The smell quickly disabused him of the notion.
The troll lifted it, sniffing suspiciously. It smiled broadly. "That beer!" The liquid quickly followed the path of the rest. Kani sighed inwardly, but wished more into existence. And ale. And mead. And wine. The troll drank it all, but showed a marked preference for beer. Especially the Drachenfel variety that looked — and smelled — like swamp water.
The time must surely be close to call his plan into action, but Kani hesitated. Perhaps the beer would do the same job? But no — he did not understand the effects of alcohol. It could not be trusted.
"And with that, please try my own favorite," he said with a smile.
The troll belched, swaying as it sat. "Beer?"
"Something much, much better. It is called coffee." A huge, copper pot appeared and the rich, sweet aroma filled the air. Hastily, he wished for two cups. "Now, this must not be gulped, as simple beer or ale. You must sip it, for it is hot, you understand?"
The troll frowned. "Hot drink?"
Kani nodded. "Yes, hot. And delicious, I promise you." He reached for the pot before the troll could and carefully poured into the cups. Thick, sweet, black liquid oozed out. The smell was dizzying. He offered one to the troll. "Enjoy, my friend, but again — sip!"
The troll looked at the tiny cup, all but lost in its huge, filthy hand. It puckered its lips obediently around its tusks and sucked the contents down. Its eyes popped.
"Hot!" it roared. Then it licked its greasy lips. Kani held his breath.
A slow smile split the troll's lumpy, bestial face. "Good! Want more!"
Kani smiled to hide his relief. "But of course! Here, have another cup." He hastily refilled the troll's cup, then again, and again….
By the time the sunlight had slipped up the walls of the nearest building to cut across the blankness where the roof had been, the troll's hands shook as it waved the tiny coffee cup at Kani. "This good stuff," it rumbled, its voice slurring as if grinding to a halt. "Want more." It twitched suddenly and looked around, wild-eyed. "What that?"
"Just the water on the stones, as it has always been."
"So loud!"
"Yes, well, there has been rain. More coffee?"
"Yuh. And beer."
"What a wonderful idea. Have two."
The troll emptied both tankards, then rubbed its bulging stomach as it sucked down its coffee. "You pretty good cook," it said. "Me not eat you. You stay here, make lots of good food all the time."
Kani beamed. "I should like nothing better, of course. But I fear it is quite out of question."
The troll paused, scowling at him. It stuck a hairy claw in its ear and dug for a bit, finally pulling out a wad of something Kani did not care to examine closely enough to identify. "Me not hear so good. Tho
ught you say you not stay."
Kani sat up straight, his hands carefully folded. He kept his face very calm. "That is what I said. I have many great things to do, many places I must go. I have given you the greatest feast ever known. I have done what I said. Now I go."
The troll's heavy brow lowered and its bloodshot eyes seemed to burn through the scraggly locks of hair that fell before them. "You no go. Me say so." It paused. "Both of you."
Kani lifted one eyebrow, laying a hand upon his breast. "Do you think you can stop me? Me? You have not the power."
The troll looked at him for a moment, then picked up one of the sturdy silver tankards that lay scattered on the cloth in one hand. It met Kani's eyes as it squeezed. The heavy silver crumpled like soft clay. "Me say you stay. You no choose."
Kani made an elaborate yawn, gently waving his hand before his mouth. "You think you are more powerful than I am because you can crush silver? Bah! Silver is soft. I am so powerful, I can crush rock with my hands."
The troll blinked its bleary eyes in surprise, forgetting for a moment to be threatening. "You can?" Then it glowered at him in fresh suspicion. " No, you human. Human no can crush rocks."
"I can." Kani looked at it, eyes narrowed in challenge. "I do not wish for this good time we have had together to end in strife. So, I challenge you to a contest. I will set three trials. If you win, then I shall stay. If I win, I will leave this place as I wish. Agreed?"
"Urrrr." The troll rose to its feet, swaying. It looked around. "Me win. Me always win. Me do what you say, mans. Three times me beat you, you stay."
"Three times I beat you, I go," said Kani, keeping his face very still. The troll had to agree exactly, or it wouldn't work. But even a troll would honor a formal challenge.
"Urrrrr." The troll scratched its head. "Very well. You win, you go. Me win, you stay. Agree."
"Challenge made and accepted," Kani declared. He rose smoothly to his feet, snagging a corner of the cloth. He flipped it, and all the platters, bowls, cups, tankards, and scraps of food vanished. "We don't need this," he said casually, folding the cloth and laying it on the stone railing of the bridge. He stretched out his hands and wriggled his fingers. "For my first challenge, I challenge you to crush a stone as you did that tankard."
"Huh. That easy." It looked around, then stooped to grab a stone. The troll teetered and almost fell, but caught itself and burped. " Ooops. Me too full."
Kani's heart quickened. Would this be even easier than he thought? "Are you saying you cannot do it?"
The troll drew itself up with great dignity. "Me do it. Me just do it slow."
The troll turned around and carefully teetered to the end of the bridge. After a moment's consideration, it held onto the bridge and reached down toward the water's edge, groping for the stones near the bank. Suddenly it slid bonelessly over the side, followed immediately by a surprised roar and a loud splash.
A moment later, a huge, hairy hand grasped the side of the bridge, and the troll hauled itself, dripping, over the rail. "Me want special rock," it declared with sodden dignity, holding up a stone which was, Kani noted uneasily, about the size of his own head.
The troll clambered over the side and stood once more on the bridge. It shook itself like a dog, spraying filthy water everywhere. "Watch this," it said. "Me squeeze stone till water come out."
Did the troll think him such a fool that he hadn't noticed that the rock was already wet? No matter. Kani was ready for it.
The troll covered the rock with both hands and grunted, shoulders bulging. It gritted its crooked teeth, eyes squeezed shut. Foam gathered around its tusks. Its grunts became a low roar, rising in pitch, until the stone suddenly crumbled, leaving mud dripping between the huge, hairy fingers. The troll held up its hands, grinning fiendishly. "There, mans. You do that!"
Kani tisked. "You think you are strong because you can squeeze water from a rock? Ha! I, my friend, shall squeeze a stone until it gives milk!"
Bending quickly, he snatched a fist-sized stone from the bridge, holding it up before the troll's eyes while his other hand fished hastily in his satchel.
The troll leaned forward, squinting. "That not big rock like mine."
"I have smaller hands," Kani replied. His questing fingers located the wad of cheese and palmed it. "Watch closely, troll."
He cupped both hands over the rock and the cheese, flexed his shoulders, and grunted as the troll had done. Then he paused. "Since my rock is smaller, to make it fair, I will use but one hand." With a flourish, he hoisted the cheese in his right hand. "There, can you see it? Do you see?" He held it higher, hoping that what he had heard about troll eyesight during the day was correct.
The troll stared fixedly, concentrating, its bleary eyes slightly unfocused. "Ooooh. So many rocks…."
Kani slipped the stone into his satchel, unnoticed, with his other hand. "Now, watch closely." He grinned fiercely as he crushed the cheese between his fingers. Whey oozed between his knuckles as the cheese crumbled. Kani flung his arms wide, fingers spread. "Hah. Milk from a stone. I have won."
"Huh?" The troll looked taken aback, and Kani quickly wiped his hands against one another and then on his trousers before it could ask to see the stone or smell the evidence. Cloth washed, after all.
"For the second trial, I shall hurl a stone farther than you can," Kani declared.
Thankfully, the troll was a slow learner. It snorted. "That easy. Me big and strong. You watch."
Bending once more, the troll scooped up a second rock, dropped it, fumbled after it with shaking hands, and finally captured it and held it up. It was a bit smaller than the first, but still large.
"Here rock." The troll turned and flung it toward the ruined town. The stone sailed over the hill, over the roofless housetops, and clattered out of sight on the other side. "There rock."
The troll turned with a smug grin. "This time me beat you. Now you throw."
"Very well, though it is hardly a contest." Kani shrugged and made a show of looking around for a rock, his hands resting casually on his satchel. "Ah. There is one." He took a few steps and chose another fist-sized stone. Bending over it, he pretended to brush it off, blowing on it.
"What you do?" asked the troll suspiciously.
"It must be clean to fly far," Kani explained. His other hand closed around the bird in his pouch. Please, Allah, let the poor thing still be alive and well. Bringing his hand out, he turned and flung it as far as he could toward the fading sun.
The swallow hurtled through the air like the stone it had replaced, then suddenly realized that it was free. Small wings snapped open and it flashed into the sunlight, darting from sight.
Looking baffled, the troll squinted, then shaded its eyes and stood swaying as it stared out over the rooftops where the bird had vanished. "Where rock?" it asked plaintively. "Me not hear." It shook its head and sat down suddenly.
"That is because it has not landed," replied Kani. "I have thrown it so far that it is still in flight. I believe that I have won again."
The troll turned its head and met Kani's eyes, and though the troll's were just as bleary as they had been, something new festered beneath the yellowed, bloodshot surface. Its head began to twitch. "Me declare third trial," said the troll, its voice a threatening rumble. "Me pull off you legs. You live, you win. You die, me win."
The troll was discarding the challenge. Oh, Allah, he had not planned for this. Think. What can I do? Kani took a deep breath and looked around. How much light was left? The sun was there, its light still brushing the stone walls of the highest houses with warm color.
Well, when in doubt, one must trust to luck, and the benevolence of Allah.
He turned to the troll with a stern expression. "Threaten me, will you? I hereby summon a magical being, a creature of pure force. A being from my homeland, a spirit of the desert, of fire. It shall
appear on this bridge in a blinding flash of light, and you shall see that I am far too powerful to need fear the like of you."
The idea finally drifted into the troll's beer-misted brain that it had a fight on its hands, and it sprang up with a roar — only to collapse in a sodden, stinking heap of bewilderment and tangled fur. "Hey! Legs not work!"
"Only one of my many powers," Kani declared. "And now, behold, as I summon the most powerful of the fire elementals: the giant salamander! Come, my pet, and sear the shadows with your brightness!"
"Nooooo! No fire!" The troll rolled over, throwing its arms over its face to protect its feeble eyes.
Kani snatched up the folded tablecloth and ran, stuffing it into the front of his cuirass. A moment later, he heard the troll's outraged squall. In seconds, Kani could hear it, bounding after him like an enormous hound.
It was fast — too fast. Kani veered away from his original beeline to where he'd hidden Tufenk and turned onto one of the ruined streets that led uphill. The houses gaped at him with empty mouths as he sprinted over broken paving stones and overgrown steps.
The sunlight still gilded the houses on the top of the rise, and Kani ran for it with all the desperate speed of youth and terror. Behind him, the troll snarled and roared.
He risked a quick look back, and saw the creature had dropped to all fours in order to catch up. He could almost feel its hot, stinking breath on his neck.
He pulled the cloth out and flapped it open. As soon as it touched the ground, he cried, "Lemon pudding, hot, enough for a hundred men!" A giant vat appeared in the cloth, and he grabbed it and heaved. The huge, bubbling pot clattered to the street and rolled down the hill, spewing lemon pudding everywhere. The troll dodged the rolling cauldron, but slipped on the hot pudding and fell, sprawling.
"Milk," Kani gasped, "heavy with cream, enough for an army!" A second great pot appeared, and he heaved it over, spilling the slippery liquid down the street, splattering the troll as it fought to regain its feet. Its hair was plastered over its body, the reek of troll mixing with the tang of the lemons and the thick sweetness of the cream until the air seemed to waver in Kani's sight.
He pulled up the magical tablecloth and once more stuffed it in his cuirass as he fled.
He wished vainly for his bow, but put the thought aside; wishing would profit him nothing. He needed more of a lead before he returned to his horse; the few precious seconds it would take to get her out of the clearing where she was hidden would be both their undoing.
But he was running out of ideas. The cloth was useful, but it was not a weapon.
He turned a corner, and something lunged out of a shadow; the troll, its hair plastered with lemon curds and cream, its eyes red with rage and caffeine. Kani ducked, rolled, felt the huge hands brush him in passing; then he was on his feet again and running, running—
The troll snatched at him. Its ragged claws tore a hole in one pant leg as Kani leaped aside to avoid another attempt to grab him. The troll was lost in rage now, determined to catch this puny human, and it knew this ruined place better than he did.
Kani's heart pounded as he threw himself upward, scrambling up the last of the hill. A wall was before him; sunlight threw a line of gold across its plastered surface. He leaped, caught the edge of the wall and scrambled up, up—
The troll reached for him, claws extended, roaring—
—and lunged into the shaft of the dying sun.
The roar cut short as though with a knife. The troll seemed to fade, greyness racing over its body, the edges blurring.
Within seconds, only a large, misshapen lump of stone remained.
Kani crouched on the crumbling wall, panting, looking down at his handiwork. A grin split his face and he looked up at the sky. "Glory be to Allah for giving me such a wise mother, and further glory for allowing me to remember her tales." He paused, and looked down at the shapeless mass of stone at the base of the wall. "And my most fervent thanks for making this troll so very stupid. Allah is great."
He did not know if the troll would turn back into a troll once night covered its rock in shadow once more. But he had a little time, at least. He hopped off the wall and trotted back down the hill to the bridge, and the troll's lair beneath it.
It took him but a few minutes to load his satchel with all the coins and loot he could find. There were no more obvious items of power, no steel weapons, and much of the remainder was useless to him or soiled beyond redemption by the troll. Still, at least he wasn't poor any more.
He popped out from under the bridge in time to see the housetops disappearing in shadow, and hastily made his way to where he'd hidden Tufenk. The mare fluttered her nostrils silently at him, then recoiled at the stink on his clothing.
He made a soothing noise as he untied her reins. "Relax, my friend, it is the scent of triumph." He led her from the clearing, looking around for movement, then swung aboard.
Was it his imagination, or did he hear the rumble of a growl from the hillside?
He turned the mare's head back down the trail. "Hurry, Tufenk. We do not wish to be late. We have an appointment to keep!"
The mare broke into a canter, then opened up into a sure-footed gallop, and soon the ruined town and the deserted bridge were far, far behind.