It was on an early afternoon that Rillor and the twins reached the Crossroads Inn outside Gormin Town, and stopped to eat. Rillor arranged a feed of hay and oats for their eight horses.

In the taproom, it was the innkeeper himself who waited on the three travelers. As always he examined his guests without being obvious about it. There didn't seem to be much difference in their ages. A set of twins, and the other a few years older. He addressed the one who was senior. "Have you stopped here before?" he asked. "These lads look familiar."

"I've been here before, but my brothers haven't."

"Ah. I guess they look like someone I've seen," the innkeeper said thoughtfully, and left to fill their orders.

At almost the same time, another man came in. Seeing him enter, a guest called out to him. "Esler! What's the news up north?"

"Macurdy's back!" the man answered. "He arrived riding a great boar, if you can believe it! Just like in the stories."

"Tell us something we don't already know," someone else called. "He's been in here twice. First time he brought the boar right into the taproom. Ordered a beer for himself and a bucket of it for the boar."

"Yeah," another added. "Afterward he stayed at the palace with Wollerda. Rode his boar right down Central Street. Half the town saw them. Shit their pants, some of them."

The newcomer grunted. "That's nothing. He's staying at Jeremid's now, on his way up north. And that ain't but the start of it." He paused, scanning the room to make sure he had their full attention. "The night before he got there, a troll killed a plow ox on the neighboring place, belonged to a fellow named Arnoth. So Jeremid and him, and some others went hunting it. Figured to track it down before dark and kill it. Only it didn't work out that way."

He paused. "You remember that string of thunderstorms that came through, four, five days ago? Big old boomers? Well, when the dogs caught up to the trolls, turned out there were three of them! Trolls, that is. Two males and a female, one of the males a dozen feet tall. Jeremid said any troll that big had to be a sorcerer in troll form, and I expect he's right. Anyway, for there to be three together, there had to be sorcery connected to it. They were in thick woods where the light was weak, and one of them big boomers had just come over. It got almost dark as night, and instead of Jeremid and them jumping the trolls, 'twas the other way around. Right away the trolls killed four men. Which left only Jeremid, with a broken arm and nothing but a skinning knife, and Arnoth with only a shortsword, because a troll snatched his spear away. Might as well have had blades of grass instead of steel. The horses was all killed or run off, and most of the dogs were dead. It looked like Jeremid and Arnoth were goners.

"Then up rides Macurdy on that pig. He jumps off, and the pig goes for one of the trolls. Rip! He guts it with his tusks! While Macurdy…" The man paused, to tighten their attention. "Macurdy raises his sword and points it at the clouds, and shouts something in some Farside tongue-and two bolts of lightning come down and fry the other two trolls.

"The next morning they went back in with packhorses and a litter, and brought out the female troll, the one the pig killed. And those parts of the others the lightning had left. She was eight feet four from heels to crown. Jeremid skinned her. Figured to boil the meat off her bones, hers and what little they brought out of the others.

"When the hide is dry and the bones clean, he'll take them around and show them, at Teklapori and all the county seats. Charge folks to see them-a copper for kids, five for grownups-and give the money to the widows and orphans. Might be he'll show them here at the inn."

Rillor had been listening from halfway across the room, and looked at the twins; they were awed. When Ohns spoke, it was in an undertone, almost a whisper. "He's still there! On that farm! Can we go there?"

Rillor nodded. "Absolutely. Stay here. I'll go ask how to find it."

He got up from the table and started over to the man who'd told the story. Rillor had never imagined such a break. It could simplify his job greatly.

When they'd eaten, they left at once, riding north now, pushing their horses hard. It was night when they reached the side road leading to Jeremid's; Rillor almost missed it in the darkness. Half an hour later they saw the house, lamplight still showing from a window. The farm dogs began to bark.

The three rode in, their horses stamping and sidling, spooked by the circling dogs. The riders waited in the saddle, sabers drawn should the dogs overreach. A man with an arm in a sling came onto the porch, another man following. The first spoke sharply to the dogs, which backed away and sat down watchfully. "Who are you?" the man asked.

"My name's Rillor. Are you Jeremid?"

"That's me. What can I do for you this time of night?"

"These are my brothers." He gestured. "Ohns and Dohns. We've been visiting relatives in Asmehr. Now we're traveling back west to Miskmehr. We heard at the Crossroads Inn that Macurdy's visiting you, so we rode up here. We've been hearing about him all our lives. We hope to shake his hand."

"You're a few days too late. You eat yet?"

"At the Crossroads, and some dried beef in the saddle. We need to be back on our way again. We shouldn't have turned off up here in the first place, I suppose. We'll make up the time by riding at night." He paused. "Maybe we could see the troll skin while we're here."

"You're welcome to," Jeremid told them. "It won't take long. The bones are cleaned, too. Those jaws and teeth are something to see! Your horses can have a feed of hay while they wait. Cost you a teklota each."

"That's way more than we'd heard," Rillor said.

"For lads it's a lot cheaper," Jeremid answered. "Tell you what: two teklota for the three of you. These troll's made two widows and a double handful of orphans. The money goes to them."

"Well, all right. That'd be interesting." Rillor swung down from his saddle, the twins following. Jeremid's servant took the horses' reins, and led them toward a shed.

Jeremid had heard more than enough to arouse suspicions. These people didn't sound like Miskmehri, or Asmehri for that matter. Their speech was refined, and lacked the nasality of Miskmehr, or the slight gutturality of Asmehr. And they'd given in way too soon on the price.

He didn't take his guests into the house proper, but to a built-on workshop in back. There, using splinters from a box, he lit two lamps from the lantern he carried. The troll skin had been removed like a mink skin-worked off the carcass like a glove. Then it had been stretched carefully on a frame made of saplings, to dry properly and minimize distortion. The hair side was in, to help the skin dry, but there was no question of what had worn it in life. And it was big! A large tear, carefully sewn shut, showed where the boar's tusks had ripped open groin and belly.

The bones were the most impressive though. Those of the hands had been reassembled, fastened together with copper wire. Of the rest, most lay on the floor, carefully arranged as in life, waiting. The skull and jawbone, with their large fighting teeth, had also been wired together, and lay on a workbench. Beside them lay an enormous thighbone, much larger than those on the floor. Odds and ends of large vertebrae, ribs and so on lay in a pile.

Jeremid held the lantern. The visitors were clearly impressed. He was as interested in them as they were in the skin and bones. As the three examined the skull, Jeremid groped through his memories. Who did the twins remind him of? And red hair…