The old shaman drank again and set the cup down. The ghost of a smile came to his withered lips, but there was no humor behind it.

"I am older than old for our people," he said softly. "If I see another midwinter's day, I will be forty-six. I ache ceaselessly. I pray for death before I sleep, yet the G.o.ds want me to live a little longer." His cold eyes looked across the table at me. "Can you guess why, Captain?"

"Why what, Your Darkness?" I asked after hesitating. I had lost the way of the conversation entirely, and I now considered every word I spoke so I might live the longer.

"Why the G.o.ds have kept me alive when I have strived so hard to die," he said patiently. "I rot from within, yet awaken every evening and draw breath into my bleeding lungs. Can you guess why the G.o.ds still want me to live a little longer?"

"No, Your Darkness." A lesser person would have offered an opinion-a worthless way to risk one's soul.

The shaman's lips pulled back as if he would laugh. "This last day, the G.o.ds spoke to me again," he said, as if the other topic were now forgotten. "They came to me in a dream. It was time, they said, to free my grandson and send him out from the caverns with a force of true goblins at his command." The old shaman drew in a deep breath through his nose, staring at me. "I've seen fit to end your disenchantment, Captain Kergis. I've already given orders for three sergeants to a.s.semble their squads for a foray this evening. You will go with them, led by my grandson. Draw rations and equipment for a mission far from our Nightbelow, among the lands of humans."

I believed for a moment that I had gone deaf, so incredible was the news.

Goblin warriors led by a half-human b.a.s.t.a.r.d?

"What is our mission, Your Darkness?" I managed.

"Zeth will let you know," said Skralang. "Obey his every word as you would mine. It is as the G.o.ds command."

The wrinkled face suddenly leaned close to me, and I caught a whiff of the drink he had prepared for himself. It was ale mixed with a pain-deadener made from the blossoms of the corpse lily. I knew its scent from the battlefields, where warriors chewed such blossoms to subdue their pain.

Sometimes, if badly wounded, the warriors chewed too much and fell into a sleep from which they never awoke. We left them for the dogs to eat.

"The G.o.ds have ordained that Zeth must go out," said the shaman steadily.

I shuddered at the smell of his breath. "They ordered nothing more. For my part, when he is gone, I am finally free to clear the taint from my family. I will cleanse my line with my daughter's blood, but there is the fear in me that even this will not bring me a long-deserved death. The G.o.ds want one thing more of me, and I cannot see into their plans."Skralang sat back. "My other dreams have all been troubling of late. The G.o.ds are unhappy, I fear, with the way the lives of our people have fallen into quarrels and tedium. You are bored, Captain Kergis, because you sense it, too. We have not gone out as we did in the old days to remind the surface world that we exist. We've gotten old in our heads, old and petty, and we hide in our caverns and complain about the dark. We are not the children of our fathers, not fit to be their lowest slaves."

The old shaman's gaze fell, and his face grew slack. "I believe the G.o.ds are especially unhappy with me, their servant, for allowing such deterioration to come about. I have favored rest and ease over struggle, against their teachings, and the rot of my words has spread and ruined us." He looked back at me, and his eyes gleamed. "Did you ever wonder in your private moments, Captain Kergis, if the taint among us reflects a greater taint? If Zeth's coming, and the manner of it, was purposeful?"

The old goblin had long ago strayed into territory that not even the greatest fool among us would have tread. I wished now I were back in that stale cavern room, listening to my clan head shriek about his worthless honor.

"Never," I said truthfully.

The shaman's smile deepened. "You will." He dismissed me with a wave and drank again of his cup of poison, swallowing it without so much as a tremor at its bitterness.

There was much that Skralang had not told me. He hadn't said that Zeth's skin was the color of a dead toad's belly, white and dry like the face of the moon. Or that Zeth wore no armor and carried no weapon, and knew nothing of how to use either.

Or that Zeth was blind.

I shivered when I saw the shaman's grandson led out of the mouth of our Nightbelow into the evening air. He was big and long-limbed, no doubt from the human blood in him, but his muscles were slack. I could have thrown him down with only mild effort, had I dared.

And he had no eyes. His eye sockets were dark holes in his face, half- covered by sagging skin that made him appear sad faced. He wore only a short, pale robe, belted with a thin rope. It was the sort of thing only a prisoner or slave would wear, and entirely the wrong color for a warrior at night.

Skralang brought Zeth to me as my warriors looked on with surprise and curiosity. In the failing sunlight, the withered shaman seemed to have deteriorated even more since I had seen him, only hours before. Splotches of blackness dotted his face and arms, marks of a curse on him. I was terrified he would touch me.

"Zeth," said the old shaman with a prompt at his grandson's elbow. "Here are your warriors. Go forth, as the G.o.ds have commanded, and carry out their will."

The big half-human stared over me, his unseeing gaze level with the top of my head, then nodded dumbly. I saw that Zeth had no weaponry, and I started to pull an extra dagger from my waist scabbard. Skralang stopped me with an upraised hand. "Not necessary," the old shaman said. "Zeth has no need of blades or armor. He has all he will need."

With a last look at me, the shaman summoned his retinue of guards and servants, then retired inside the cavern. The great doors were pulled shutbehind him and barred. Not even the usual guards were posted tonight.

I swallowed as I stared up at the eyeless sockets of the white half-human.

He merely looked off to the west, where the sun had vanished a while ago.

"What is your wish?" I finally asked. If I were lucky, Zeth would prove to be mad as well as blind. I wondered if the prohibition against arms and armor was meant to speed his death in battle. It made sense to me. His quick death would release us from this mission, perhaps allowing brief foraging in the countryside to gain a few pigs or cattle before returning to the Nightbelow.

The big half-human slowly turned his head to the south, as if he'd heard something in the gentle wind. Southward lay the kingdom of Durpar, which we had once raided regularly. He nodded slightly, then set off toward that distant land. After two steps, he almost fell over a log that had been pulled up to the cave entrance as a bench. He stumbled, caught himself, and walked on. No one laughed or moved to help him. We merely watched.

I nodded to myself. With luck, the mission would be a short one.

"Single file, scout fore and back, standard march," I called. The warriors glanced at me, then fell into place. We set off into the coming night.

We marched south for about ten hours by the stars. That Zeth had some ability to sense his path became more evident as the night deepened. He would pause at times, then slowly make his way across a creek or through a rock field. At other times, he acted as blind as he appeared, running into low tree branches or dancing out of thistle. Perhaps his hearing gave him a little help, but I began to think perhaps his eyes were present but merely small and deeply set.

Dawn was coming on when I finally moved up alongside the stumbling half- human. I hesitated over proper forms of address, then ignored them all. I couldn't see that it mattered. "Dawn is near," I said under my breath. "We must pitch camp soon."

Zeth marched on in silence, his blind gaze fixed somewhere over the horizon. Abruptly he slowed and stopped. For a moment he stood, his chest heaving from exertion, then nodded quickly. "We will stop here," he gasped. It was more an animal moan than speech, the words wheezed out and half- mumbled. Was Zeth feebleminded as well? What was Skralang up to?

I gave the proper orders anyway and had everyone in hiding among the rocks and brush of a nearby hillside before sun-up. Zeth wandered away in the meantime, but returned to camp as the meal was served. I thought it politic to sit near him for the first meal and see if I could learn a little more about his plans-if he had any-for this expedition. My concerns grew rapidly that he would lead us straight into a human city or worse.

A plate of beans and dried meat was prepared for Zeth, and another for myself. I glanced at him as we ate, and saw that indeed he had no eyes at all.

The blind half-human and I sat for a while on the hilltop in silence.

"If you wish any advice," I began, "I am at your service."

Zeth chewed a bit of meat for several moments, rocking slowly forward and back. Abruptly he spoke.

"When I was no more than a babe," he said in a quiet, dry voice, "my grandfather dug out my eyes with a spoon." Empty sockets looked at me from an empty white face. "He loved me very much to do that. Did anyone ever love you like that?"

I stared back, a fork full of beans halfway to my mouth. A cold finger randown my spine. He was as mad as mad could get. I took a bite of the beans and looked around. None of the goblins was close enough to have heard anything.

"It was the only way he had to open my eyes," continued the half-human, looking toward the predawn sky. "Had he not done so, I'd never have seen at all. I hardly remember it now. I was told that I fought him and the others like an ogre, that my screams caused the dead to cry out. I don't recall it." The blind half-human raised a thin hand and stroked his chin. "It had to be done. I didn't understand why then, but I learned."

It was apparent that more than just Zeth's eyes had been dug out by Skralang's spoon. His words, however, showed him to be smarter than he had first seemed. I could think of nothing to say, so I finished my cold meal.

"It will be light soon," said Zeth. "We will rest, then evening will come and we will march. We will find a village." He paused, lifting his head slightly as if listening to something far away. "They will be halflings, farmers. There we will start."

I swallowed the last bite slowly and chased errant bits of food across my teeth with my tongue. "Start what?" I asked, masking my concerns. I knew from past experience that Durpar's warriors were not to be taken lightly. If any G.o.ds were leading Zeth, they could not have been our G.o.ds.

Zeth looked up. "There we will start our teaching," he said quietly.

"Teaching," I repeated.

"Teaching, yes," said Zeth, with an unmistakable note of enthusiasm. To my great concern, he then looked directly at me. "We will teach them."

"What? Teach them what?"

"Ah," said Zeth. His smile grew broader. "We will teach them what we have forgotten."

Crickets chirped. A sparrow called down in the fields.

What would the G.o.ds do to me if I were to kill you? I thought as I looked at the pale, smiling face. What is Skralang expecting of me? Will I fail his unspoken desires by letting this abomination live? No, Skralang had been clear: I was to obey his grandson. But he was mad, and he was leading us into destruction.

"I should post guards," I said and got to my feet. I needed to think. Perhaps it was unwise to risk the anger of the G.o.ds by acting directly. Nature could take its course, with a minimum of help. The half-human would be easy to dispose of just by letting him lead until he walked into a ravine or a Durpar border camp. His grandfather would undoubtedly welcome the news.

I turned to go but got only three steps when Zeth called my name. I looked back.

The blind half-human had a dagger in his right hand, holding it out to me by the blade. I felt at my belt and discovered a dagger missing. It must have slipped out when I sat down.

"You must be more careful," he said. "We have much to do tonight."

He handed the weapon to me, the handle aimed exactly at my stomach. I took back my dagger and left, looking back several times as I did.

We were on our feet and moving before the sun had vanished behind the low western hills. The half-moon lighted our way. Zeth strode easily through the tall gra.s.s that paralleled a cart track a half-mile east of us, to our left. Iposted a forward scout and two scouts to the left and right. Yet another scout trailed Zeth by a dozen paces, and the rest of us followed after.

As before, the big half-human avoided most obstacles in his path, winding his way around them with unusual care. If he stumbled, he caught his balance gracelessly but quickly. I wondered whether the G.o.ds had made Zeth insane and his eyes simply invisible, or if it was all an elaborate trick, something Skralang thought up to test me. I thought of Zeth staring at me that morning, and a tightness grew in my stomach.

I was growing used to the mindlessness of the situation-a company of goblins led by a blind madman-but I saw its dangers as well. The warriors grumbled among themselves, and some began to treat the outing as a farce.

They walked with weapons sheathed, laughed at private jokes, pushed and shoved one another in line.

I did not let this go on long. I dropped back among the file and located one of the worst offenders, who had fallen earlier and sc.r.a.ped his knees and hands. As he complained about the pain for the third time, I pulled the lash from my belt and struck him.

The lash caught him full across the face, just below the eyes. Before he could cry out, the lash came back and snapped across his back like a brand of fire. His cry was cut off by his intake of breath at the second hit, and he fell to his knees, hands covering his face.

The column behind him stopped, but at a gesture from me, continued on around him. I waited with the warrior as the column filed past. After a few moments, he regained his feet and picked up his weapon. I watched as he stumbled on to catch up with the column.

I followed, ensuring that the message had gotten through. It had. Silence was kept thereafter, and weapons were held at the ready.

We marched on for only three hours when Zeth abruptly slowed his pace, head turned to one side, and stopped. The scout behind him looked back at me questioningly. I came forward.

"There they are," said Zeth, pointing ahead. "We must begin our teaching."

I looked ahead and noticed a faint light. We were about two miles from a small community that sat astride the cart path to our left. I detected no sign of any military activity, but that meant li ttle. Enemy warriors could be concealed anywhere and had time to prepare a b.l.o.o.d.y welcome.

"We are safe," said Zeth carelessly. He was smiling again and wasn't breathing as heavily as the night before. "They don't know we're here."

"How would you know?" I asked under my breath. I gave a hand signal for the troops to stay low and keep silent. Before I could do more, Zeth turned to me and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me close to him. I was too surprised to resist.

His breath was visible in the cool night air. "Gather the villagers together.

They will not resist. I wish to begin teaching before the night has pa.s.sed. Our people should gather around and learn wisdom, too." He released me and sat on the ground with a thump, not moving from that spot.

I stared at him, then looked across the dark field. Gather the villagers up for Zeth to teach them? His grandfather had ordered me to obey the mad one as if he were one of the G.o.ds. Perhaps the G.o.ds would spare me for my obedience if any disaster fell, but I no longer believed it. I obeyed but felt I was as mad as Zeth to do it.I left the scout with Zeth while I went back and collected the rest of the troops. Moments later, we moved on to the sleeping village.

The attack was over almost as soon as it had begun. Many of the halflings were in their beds when we set fire to their barns. As they rushed out, half- dressed and clutching blankets and buckets, they were shot by our archers.

Many were clubbed down and herded together on the road as others of us torched the houses. Some fought back with farm implements-pitchforks, shovels, hammers. Those we killed. The dogs were more trouble than the villagers.

We forced the survivors-about three dozen males, females, and children-to strip and stand naked in the night wind. Warriors surrounded them and amused themselves by prodding bare skin with their spears, laughing and bet ting as to which of the little people would jump highest.

Around us, orange flames roared through the halflings' homes and farms.

I sent a runner for Zeth, but he, was already on his way to the burning village with the scout at his side. As I watched him approach, I wondered what purpose there was in this miserable raid besides this nonsense about "teaching." I had always fought armed humans before-guardsmen on caravans, or armored militia at fortified farmhouses on the borderlands.

a.s.saulting such poorly armed and trained halflings was wasteful of our powers. I bit my lip with frustration and tasted blood.

Zeth put out his hands toward a burning cottage as he pa.s.sed it, his smile clearly visible. He warmed himself thus, then slowed and picked his way with care toward the warriors surrounding the crouching prisoners. The huddled halflings' eyes were like those of caged rabbits. Zeth looked them over, and I believed then that he had to have sight of some kind. Was it magic, then, that let him see? I would not allow myself to think that the G.o.ds had anything to do with it. It must be Skralang's doing, though I could not imagine how or why.

Satisfied, Zeth walked to the top of a low mound, then turned to face the troops. There was silence across the area, except for the crackling of dying flames.

"In the beginning of all things," said Zeth, his voice growing stronger, "there was war between the G.o.ds and the rebellious earth, and the world was struck down and slain. Darkness covered its face; winds and sea lashed its corpse.

Nothing grew on its naked rock or stirred beneath the cold moon. As the world lay dead, maggots were born from the blood shed by the G.o.ds in the battle, and the maggots burrowed into the flesh of the world and feasted upon it, celebrating the victory of the G.o.ds.

"Then came forces of light, and there arose a sun over the land. The light burned the eyes of the maggots and made them cry out. The old G.o.ds heard them and were moved to rage. One of the old G.o.ds put forth his hand and said, 'A debt is owed our children as well as to us, and now our children shall claim it.' He changed the maggots into goblins, and he gave them a commandment, that the goblins would always remember the days of darkness when the old G.o.ds were victors, when nothing grew on the world, when there was night eternal and deep. And the goblins would remember always to claim the debt owed them and their G.o.ds by the forces of light."

Zeth swept a hand toward the flaming cottages beyond the gathering.

"Here we are tonight, the sp.a.w.n of the maggots, and we are still asked to remember what our G.o.d asked of us, but we have forgotten it all." His handfell. "At highsun tomorrow, a band of riders will come to this place, and they will see what we have done. They will taste the ash from the houses and feel the heat from the blackened fields. But will the riders fear us? Will the old debt have been repaid?"

The half-human paused expectantly, though none of us spoke. "No. The riders will have seen burned villages before. They will have seen slain farmers. Why should they fear us-we, the firstborn, who are descended from the maggots who fed on the world?"

Several goblins stirred restlessly, their faces crossed with confusion. Even the prisoners had ceased whimpering to listen.

"Would you fear us?" asked the half-human, pointing at a goblin in the crowd. "Or you? We have only burned a little town. Who is alive in the world who cannot do that? Little pixies could do that." Zeth's face cracked into a shallow grin. "Even humans could do that." There was a pause, then he added, "I should know."

He let the silence grow. I shivered. There was a change in the atmosphere when he said the word humans, and we looked at him and remembered what he was.

"Even humans could do that," he repeated. "We've lived so long under the sunlight, away from the night and the truth, that we've forgotten who we really are. We've started to think-" Zeth leered as if he would laugh "-that we're human."

None of the goblins moved. Their tight faces were like stone. His words were a mortal insult, the basest slander. Yet they rolled off Zeth's lips as if they were a shabby truth at which the knowing world snickered. Only the warriors' knowledge that Skralang was his grandfather kept Zeth from a speedy death.

Zeth's thin fingers reached into the air. "Are we human now?" he called out.

"Can we do only things that humans do? Do we remember anything at all that our G.o.ds taught us? Has the sun burned it out of us, the memory of where we came from?" He then shouted, his face twisted with rage. "Do you want those riders who come here tomorrow to laugh at our night's work? Do you want them to ride here and see this and say, 'Looks like humans' work, bandits maybe, just nasty old humans, good thing they weren't goblins.'?"

The half-human raised a hand to the black heavens. "My father was a human! He cursed me with his taint! My eyes were not red like yours-they were blue! Blue, like a human's! Blue like the day sky! Where are my eyes now?"

He suddenly pointed at one goblin in the crowd, his white finger like a sword. "You! Tell me! Where are my eyes now?"

The goblin's lips trembled as he mouthed a word silently.