‘You’re a humorous fellow, I see.’
‘I try. I’ve found that a little humor smoothes over the awkward moments when I first meet somebody. It lets people know that I’m not really a stranger, but only a friend they haven’t met yet.’
‘I’ll have to remember that one,’ the now openly grinning man said. ‘And what might your name be, friend I haven’t met yet?’
‘I’m called Althalus.’
‘Is that supposed to be a joke?’
‘That wasn’t what I had in mind. Is there something wrong with it?’
‘There’s a very old story in our clan about a man named Althalus. Oh, my name’s Degrur, by the way.’ He held out his hand.
Althalus shook hands with him. ‘Pleased to meet you. What’s the gist of this story about that other Althalus?’
‘Well, as it turned out, he was a thief.’
‘Really? What did he steal?’
‘Money, I’m told. The Clan-Chief back in those days was named Gosti Big Belly, and he was the richest man in the world.’
‘My goodness!’
‘Oh, yes. Gosti’s strongroom was filled to the rafters with gold – until Althalus came along. Anyway, this Althalus could tell jokes so funny that they made the walls laugh. Then, late one night after everybody in the hall had drunk himself to sleep, the thief Althalus broke into Gosti’s strongroom and stole every single gold coin there. The story says that he had to steal twenty horses just to carry it all away.’
‘That’s a lot of gold.’
‘It was indeed. I’d imagine that the story’s been exaggerated a little over the years, though, so there probably wasn’t all that much gold in the strongroom.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, Degrur. I heard a story once about a man who was supposed to be as big as a mountain.’
‘I’m going on to the hall’, Degrur said. ‘Why don’t you come along, and I’ll introduce you to our chief? I think he’d really like to meet a man called Althalus.’
‘Probably so that he can keep his eye on me. My name might raise a few suspicions around here.’
‘Don’t worry, my friend. Nobody takes those old stories seriously any more.’
‘I certainly hope not.’
‘Would it alarm you if I told you that you’ve got a cat peeping out of the hood of your cloak?’
‘No, I know she’s there. I was camped up in the mountains, and she wandered in – probably to steal some food. We sort of took to each other, so we’re traveling together for a while. What’s your chief’s name?’
‘Albron. He’s young, but we think he’s going to work out fairly well. His father, Baskon, spent most of his time face down in the nearest ale barrel, and a drunken Clan-Chief tends to make mistakes.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘He got roaring drunk one night and went up to the top of the highest tower to challenge God to a fight. Some say that God took him up on it, but I think he just wobbled and fell off the tower. He splattered himself all over the courtyard.’
‘Everybody dies from something, I suppose.’
They went on into the courtyard of the stone castle. Althalus noticed that it was paved, much as the courtyard of the House at the End of the World had been. Degrur led the way up the steps to the massive door and they proceeded down a long, torchlit corridor to the dining hall.
There were bearded men sitting at a long table there, eating breakfast off of wooden plates. Althalus glanced around as he and Degrur approached the table. The bleak stone walls were decorated with battle-flags and a few antiquated weapons, and the logs burning in the fire-pit crackled cheerfully. The stone floor had obviously been swept that morning, and there weren’t any dogs gnawing bones in the corners.
‘Neatness counts,’ Emmy’s voice murmured approvingly.
‘Maybe,’ he replied, ‘but not for very much.’
‘My Chief,’ Degrur said to the kilted man with shrewd eyes and a clean-shaven face at the head of the table, ‘this traveler was passing through, and I thought you might want to meet him, since he’s very famous.’
‘Oh?’ the Clan-Chief said.
‘Everybody’s heard of him, my Chief. His name’s Althalus.’
‘You’re not serious!’
Degrur was grinning openly now. ‘That’s what he told me, Albron. Of course, if that’s really his name, he might have lied about it to put me off my guard.’
‘Degrur, that doesn’t make any sense at all.’
‘I just woke up, my Chief. You don’t expect me to make sense when I first get up, do you?’
Althalus stepped forward and bowed elegantly. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Chief Albron,’ he said. Then he looked around the hall. ‘I see that you’ve made some improvements since my last visit.’
‘You’ve been here before?’ Albron asked with one quizzically raised eyebrow.
‘Yes – quite some time ago. The chief in those days used to keep pigs in this hall. Pigs are nice enough animals, I suppose – good to their mothers and all – but they don’t make very good house-pets. And the dining hall isn’t really the place to keep them – unless you like your bacon very fresh.’
Albron laughed. ‘Is your name really Althalus?’
Althalus sighed with feigned regret. ‘I’m afraid so, Chief Albron,’ he replied theatrically. ‘I was positive that your clan had forgotten me by now. Fame can be so inconvenient sometimes, can’t it, my Lord? Anyway, since my dreadful secret’s out in the open, and if you’re not too busy, maybe we can get right down to cases here. Has your clan managed to amass enough gold since my last visit to make it worth my while to rob you again?’
Chief Albron blinked, and then he burst into laughter.
Althalus pushed on. ‘Since you already know my dreadful secret, there’s no point in beating about the bush, now is there? When would it be most convenient for you to have me rob you? There’ll be all that shouting and running around and organizing pursuits, and the like. You know how disruptive a robbery can be sometimes.’
‘You carry your age very well, Master Althalus’, Chief Albron noted with a grin. ‘According to that story we all heard when we were children, you robbed Gosti Big Belly several thousand years ago.’
‘Has it been that long? My goodness, where does the time go?’
‘Why don’t you join us for breakfast, Master Althalus?’ Albron invited. ‘Since you plan to rob me of all my gold, you’re going to need a few dozen horses to carry off all your loot. We could discuss that over breakfast. I’ve got a few spare horses, and some of them even have all four of their legs. I’m sure we can strike a bargain on them. Just because you’re planning to rob me, it shouldn’t get in the way of our doing business together, should it?’
Althalus laughed and joined the group of men at the table. They bantered back and forth over breakfast, and after they’d eaten, the young Chief Albron offered Althalus a tankard of something he called ale.
‘Never mind’, Emmy’s voice murmured.
‘It wouldn’t be polite to refuse, Em,’ he sent back his silent reply. Then he lifted the tankard and drank.
It took all of the self-control he could bring to bear to keep from spitting the awful stuff onto the floor. Good