"We've made good time," Regdar said, turning to look at Jozan. "The village should be just over this next hill, and we have a few hours of daylight left."

The priest nodded.

"We could continue on," Regdar suggested, "camp along the road."

Jozan patted the neck of his dappled mare and smiled. "They warned me about you in Lianne," the priest said.

Regdar felt his hackles raise. "They warned you about me, Father?"

Jozan coughed out a laugh and said, "They told me you liked to do things the hard way."

"Did they?" Regdar asked.

He was not amused. Regdar didn't think he chose one "way" or another. There was little to fear along the road west from the frontier town of Lianne to the city of New Koratia. How hard could one night outside the confining walls of a smelly old inn be? Regdar slowed his horse and looked over at the priest. Jozan's polished scale mail glinted in the sun, a heavy mace—a real weapon, Regdar was pleased to note—hung from the side of his saddle. Around his neck, strung on thick twine, hung a wooden carving of a stern-faced sun—the symbol of Pelor.

There was something about this priest that Regdar liked. Maybe it was the fact that Jozan looked more like a soldier than a priest, or maybe it was that he was closer to Regdar's own age than any man of the cloth Regdar had ever met. After six years in the Duke's infantry, escorting a lone priest of Pelor—the god Regdar most honored himself—was easy duty. Regdar didn't feel like someone was standing just over the next hill waiting to kill him. He wasn't thinking about the tragedy that had sent him into the army in the first place. He was just riding west through good, clean, hilly country on a good horse, with good company.

The hard way indeed.

"What else did they tell you about me?" Regdar asked.

"They said you know how to use that gigantic sword of yours," Jozan said.

Regdar shrugged, feeling the weight of his greatsword shift on his back. Of course he knew how to use his weapon. He was a soldier.

"They also told me you don't talk much," the priest went on, "and that you don't have many friends."

Regdar looked over at the priest sharply enough to startle his own horse. He had to turn his attention to calming his mount, so couldn't see the priest's reaction. Regdar felt sweat drip from his forehead. It was hot, and his own suit of scale armor was getting heavier. The horse was sweating too, and tired. It was a strong animal, but Regdar, in full armor and with all his gear, was a heavy load.

"Fine, then," Regdar said, "we'll stop at Fairbye for the night."

They came up over the top of the hill riding side by side, and Regdar could see the little hamlet of Fairbye nestled in the valley below. There were only a couple dozen buildings in all, mostly small wattle-and-daub houses. The village was surrounded by modest fields, vegetable gardens chiefly. A herd of sheep dotted the fields on the other side of town, where the hills started getting bigger as they stacked up against the feet of the high mountains beyond. After a night in Fairbye it would be another day on the road to the entrance to Two Winds Pass, another three days or so across the mountains, then half a day to cross the fields outlying New Koratia.

Regdar snapped his reins and, Jozan behind him, rode at a slow run toward the little village.

Before they even passed the first outlying buildings and turned onto the main street of the town, it became apparent to Regdar that they'd ridden into the middle of something.

"Festival?" he asked Jozan.

The priest rode up next to him, and they both slowed their horses.

"Perhaps," Jozan said. "It looks like the whole town has come out for something."

A handful of shops and a surprisingly large inn were clustered around an ill-defined town square. In the center was a large communal well and a crowd of peasants numbering almost a hundred. Regdar thought Jozan was right when he said that the whole town had come out. The crowd had as many women as men, some quite old, and no shortage of children of all ages. They were all dressed in the simple homespun clothes of the peasantry, and most of the men were holding various farming implements.

Something about the crowd's attitude made Regdar uncomfortable, and he could feel Jozan's unease as well.

"I don't think this is a festival," the priest said, just loudly enough so that only Regdar could hear him.

The fighter nodded and stiffened in his saddle. He wanted to draw his sword, even dismount in order to be ready for whatever was about to happen but was smart enough to know that riding into this sort of scene with naked steel might only make things worse. Still, he could feel his skin tingle and his senses hum with heightened attention.

The villagers were all facing the same direction and listening to a voice still too distant for Regdar to make out. He quickened his horse's pace and heard the word "...guilty!" followed by a rousing cheer from the assembled villagers.

The peasants were facing a crudely constructed gallows on which stood a rotund man dressed in a shimmering silk coat. The man was sweating profusely in the afternoon sun, his hair wet and unkempt. Though the coat was expensive and well tailored, it was obviously old and made to fit a much smaller man. A little girl was standing next to him. Regdar could barely see her head sticking out over the heads of the crowd.

"Hang the bitch!" an old woman shrieked—answered by another ear-ringing cheer from the mob.

"The little girl?" Regdar said, turning to Jozan and beginning to reach for his greatsword.

The priest held up a hand, and Regdar stopped.

"That's no child," Jozan said. "They mean to hang a halfling."

Regdar turned back to the gallows, and as he moved closer still he saw that Jozan was right. Standing next to the portly orator was a halfling woman whose tiny build made her look like a human child. She wore elaborate leathers and had her long, auburn hair tied tightly back. Her hands were bound behind her, and a noose dangled limply from around her neck and was tied to the top of the gallows.

The fat man strutted back and forth on the platform in front of her, waving his hands in an attempt to quiet the still-cheering crowd.

"Good citizens!" the man shouted, and the crowd quieted just enough to hear him. "Good neighbors, we are not murderers here. The halfling woman who calls herself Lidda has been accused of thievery of a most egregious sort—one count after another—"

"What's a count?" a man yelled from the crowd.

This brought about another round of cheering from the assembly, and it took long enough for the round man to quiet them that Regdar and Jozan were able to ride to the edge of the crowd. Only a few people on the edges of the mob noticed them, but they all recognized Jozan as a priest of Pelor and bowed to him in the accepted manner.

Lidda rolled her eyes, and Regdar was amazed at how relaxed she seemed. He got the distinct impression that the woman had been in this situation before.

The crowd quieted a bit, and the fat man was just about to say something when the halfling called out in a clear, unwavering voice, "I will devote my life to finding the true thief. I will clear my name and the names of my family and friends, the names of my acquaintances both personal and professional, and will endeavor to repair any damage done to this fair hamlet by the heinous deeds of this brazen criminal. This I swear, by the three heads of the hydra at the center of the stars!"

Regdar felt his breath catch in his throat and realized that the whole mob was similarly silenced. The halfling was glancing from villager to villager, moving only her wide, nimble eyes.

"Oh," another old woman growled, "let her swing already!"

There was a burst of laughter and applause from the mob, and the fat man in the old coat threw up his hands, his chubby fingers wrapped into tight little fists.

"What are the charges?" Jozan asked in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

The rotund orator stopped just before shouting some order or proclamation, and when his eyes found Jozan, he visibly reeled. The man almost fell on his face in his rush to bow, and Regdar watched as every head in the unruly mob turned to look at Jozan.

Regdar was horrified by the sudden attention of the lynch mob, and his hand went to the pommel of his greatsword. He was convinced the villagers would turn on them, but they froze, all eyes glued to the priest. Most of them sketched slight bows and whispered to each other that Pelor had sent a priest to bless the hanging. Regdar doubted that was the case. He took his hand off his sword.

"The charges?" Jozan asked again.

The fat man, obviously flustered, called out, "A priest of Pelor! Come to bless today's justice!"

The crowd applauded but with a measure of reluctance this time.

Jozan called back, "Pelor does not bless lynchings, Mister...?"

"I am the burgher here, Father," the fat man replied. "Tomma is the name, sir."

Jozan rode forward slowly, the crowd parting before him. Regdar stood his ground and seemed to go largely unnoticed by the villagers.

"What has this woman done," the priest asked, "to deserve a death sentence, Burgher Tomma?"

"Ah," the burgher replied, obviously delighted to recount the charges. "The halfling has stolen numerous items of personal property from numerous goodly townsfolk and farmers on numerous occasions, good priest...?"

"Jozan," the priest said. "But that you could hang her numerous times then, Burgher."

The crowd was split as to whether or not to cheer that, and the resulting confusion made Regdar smile.

"Thank you, Father," Lidda said. "Maybe you could just smash my head in with your mace and get it over with."

A man in the crowd shouted, "Do it, Father!"

A few of the women gasped, and Jozan turned on the man, his face a cold mask. Regdar had never seen Jozan look like that before. The priest was more than angry, he was mortified—struck momentarily dumb with rage.

"Um..." the burgher said.

"There is a justice in the world," Jozan said, his voice clear and steady, "that is greater than the rule of the mob. If this woman is guilty of a crime, let her be judged in the proper venue. Let her meet her accusers, and let her have a chance to defend herself before her neck is snapped."

"See," Lidda said to the burgher's back. "I told you you can't just string me up you fat f—"

"Hold your tongue!" Jozan commanded. Regdar was impressed by the fact that the accused did indeed silence herself. "You may still swing, child, if you're as guilty as they—"

"Help me!" a wild, panicked voice screamed from the other side of the crowd. The mob of villagers turned, and this time Regdar drew his sword.

The crowd reacted as one, bowing in on one side as if something had struck its edge and bent it back. Regdar, from astride his horse, could see a boy, no older than fifteen, rushing into the crowd and being held on his feet by a pocket of concerned villagers. The boy was a mess, drenched in sweat and covered in dirt. His clothes were torn, and he held the broken half of a shepherd's staff.

"Spiders!" the shepherd cried.

Regdar slipped off his horse, scanning all around for any sign of whatever it was the boy was afraid of—spiders or otherwise. He saw nothing threatening, and for safety's sake he sheathed his sword before he got to the boy's side. Regdar reached out and helped a few of the villagers lower the shepherd to sit on the hard-packed dirt of the village square.

"Get him some water," Regdar said to one of the villagers, a young woman who appeared to have her wits about her while the others were still caught up in the tensions of the moment.

The woman rushed off for water, and Regdar crouched next to the shepherd. There was a disturbance in the crowd, and Jozan pushed through the parting farmers to join Regdar at the boy's side.

"Is he injured?" the priest asked.

Regdar examined the boy quickly and saw no blood or any sign of injury beyond a few scrapes. Jozan was looking at the boy even more closely, so Regdar didn't bother to answer.

"Spiders," the boy gasped, not looking at anyone in particular. "Big, huge, brown spiders...I've never even heard of spiders that big."

"Are you injured, son?" Jozan asked. "Were you bitten by any of these spiders?"

The boy blinked and met Jozan's steady gaze. He was shaking. "Am I dead? Are you Pelor?"

"Hey!" the halfling called. "Can I go now?"

The crowd responded by screaming "No!" at the top of their lungs. Regdar's attention was torn between the mob and the shepherd.

"No, son," Jozan told the boy, "I'm not Pelor. Just a humble priest anxious to hear your tale."

"Spiders," the boy repeated without pause. "They attacked the sheep. They bit one apart and dragged it away in pieces, then more came and attacked another one...and I got the hell ou—sorry, Father. I ran away. I don't think they were chasing me. I can't...I can't..."

The boy began panting, hyperventilating.

The fat burgher came through the crowd, a pungent stench following him, and he rushed to the boy's side. "Gürn," he said. "Gürn, my son, is the flock safe?"

"Poppa?" the boy replied, though he could hardly breathe.

Burgher Tomma put a hand on the boy's shoulder and asked, "Is the flock safe, son? Are the sheep safe?"

"Big...giant...spiders ... attacked them," Güm answered. "I don't know how many were...taken."

"You let them—" Tomma gasped, his pudgy face draining of color so that Regdar thought they'd need to send someone for water for the burgher.

The woman appeared with a cup of water and handed it to the shaking boy. Burgher Tomma took it from his son and drank it down greedily, the fat man gasping for air along with his son.

"Not the sheep," he said. He looked up at Jozan, his eyes pleading. "The sheep are our whole lives. Without them, we have nothing. The whole village depends on them."

Gasps and whispers pulsed through the mob in waves, and Regdar watched all their faces go as pale as the burgher's. Regdar had been to villages like this one—villages that depended on one herd of livestock or one field of crops for their entire existence.

"Regdar," Jozan said, "have you heard of spiders big enough to carry off a sheep?"

Regdar nodded and said, "I've heard tales, but I've never seen one."

Jozan stood and turned all the way around, scanning the crowd. "Are you expected in New Koratia?" he asked Regdar.

Regdar shrugged. "I had intended to see my mother," he said, "but she wouldn't know when to expect me. Why?"

"Burgher Tomma," Jozan said, "we'll see to these spiders for you."

The fat man sagged with relief, and his eyes puffed and filled with tears. "Oh...oh, Father. How can we ever thank you...you and your man...?"

Regdar wasn't quite sure what he was hearing, but it sounded suspiciously like he had just volunteered to ride off after giant spiders to save someone else's sheep. The crowd appeared horrified and relieved at the same time, and none of them looked like any use in a fight.

"We'll take the halfling with us as well," Jozan told the burgher.

The fat man looked at him as if the priest had suddenly sprouted green fur and a bug's antennae.

"It will afford me an opportunity to question her thoroughly," Jozan said. "Otherwise I will have to question her here and deal with your spider problem in a few days' time."

"Take her," Burgher Tomma gasped, forcing a smile. "For Pelor's sake, take her."

"Yeah," Lidda called from the gallows, "let's go get those spiders, darn it. I love sheep."