Black wizards - Douglas Niles [86]
"Perhaps they steal their grain, too," Pontswain said.
But the Ffolk that they saw appeared to work hard. They were friendly, smiling and greeting these strangers from Gwynneth. The baker offered a fresh loaf of bread; the smith offered to sharpen a dulled weapon.
Most of the buildings were on the ground – only an occasional small cottage, and a single large inn, had actually been built in the trees. The other houses, shops, and inns were either cleverly concealed among the flora or were underground. The rolling grassy hummocks that rippled like tiny hills throughout the town were actually sod-roofed homes, much like the burrows favored by halflings.
A whole network of walkways connected the city above the ground, spanning from tree to tree with long suspension bridges. In some places, the buildings were close enough together to form actual blocks, but these were generally so well screened by thick foliage that an observer could stand before one building and not realize that it had close neighbors.
The four men did not see the bandit lord that night, nor the following day. They spent the daylight hours exploring the surroundings of the community.
"It's ideal for defense," remarked Daryth.
"And ambush," added Pawldo. "An attacker wouldn't even know you had a force here until your arrows gave him warning!"
"This whole city is unbelievable!" added Tristan. "So many people living here – so well concealed and defended. And they seem prosperous enough."
"True," agreed Pawldo. "Though they do without a few comforts that I'd miss." The men had seen remarkably few metal goods, and the fare of the inns they had visited was limited to a few brands of ale, with wild game constituting most of the menu.
"It's wrong that they should have to conceal themselves here!" exclaimed the prince, surprising himself with his fervor. "These are industrious and decent Ffolk. It can't be right that a king would condemn such people to exile."
"Or worse," muttered Daryth.
"I think we should tell O'Roarke about our mission. With a little luck, we could persuade him to help us," declared the prince.
"That's madness!" objected Pontswain. "The man is a bandit. He can't be trusted!"
"He is a bandit, true. But doesn't he want the same thing we do – an end to the reign of this king?"
"Pontswain has a point about O'Roarke," said Daryth. "The more he knows about us, the more dangerous he is!"
Tristan looked from his friend to his rival. Pawldo stood silent, watching the exchange. "What do you think?" the prince asked the halfling.
"I think it's worth a try. You can't just walk into Caer Callidyrr and tell the king you don't like the fact that he killed your father. And O'Roarke, much as we might not trust him, seems to be our best hope of getting help."
"You'll do what you want, anyway," Pontswain said with disgust. "Nevertheless, this is madness!"
"I hope you're wrong," said the prince. "I'll talk to O'Roarke as soon as I get a chance."
"Hey! You men!" A fresh-faced youth raced toward them along the rampart.
"I'm glad…" he began, pausing to gasp for breath, "…I finally found… you. Lord O'Roarke requests your company at dinner. I looked all over for you – I was afraid you had left town."
"And if we had?" asked the prince, eyebrows raised.
The lad looked confused. "Why, he'd have sent someone after you, of course."
"We'll be delighted to accept. When and where?"
The lad gave them directions, and they recognized the inn in the treetops they had seen while exploring the city. They were to be there at sunset – less than an hour away.
They took their time reaching the inn, crossing one last bridge that swung alarmingly in the dying breeze. They could see their host before they crossed, for the inn had no walls facing them. O'Roarke smiled and gestured them to his table.
Just before they reached him, a young woman