"I'll finish my dance," the fire giant demanded.

"Of course, Kwasid. But give me a moment-please."

The innkeeper knew dancing was sacred to fire giants, put Kwasid would have to endure a short interruption. Tavis did not like what he heard outside, and with Princess Brianna among his guests, he had no intention of letting something unpleasant develop on the grounds of the Weary Giant.

After listening to the distant steps for a moment longer, Tavis said. "There's a verbeeg loose in the village."

"Verbeeg!" The voice came from two seats away. There sat Earl Ruther Dobbin, lord mayor of Stagwick, with a pitcher of ale and a pile of goose bones before him. "A verbeeg in my village?"

"I'm afraid so." Tavis answered. Verbeegs were one of the races of giant-kin, cousins of true giants. They were notorious thieves, for they believed that all things belonged to all people. "And it sounds as though he's heavily loaded."

Earl Dobbin considered this, his round face slowly stiffening with tension. Finally, he scowled at Tavis. "Phaw! You can't know it's a verbeeg! Why not a hill giant, or even an ogre?"

Either option would have been preferable to a verbeeg. Hill giants seldom stole anything valuable, and if they did, their chieftain, Noote, forced them to return it. Ogres were even less cause for concern. Though they were the most savage of giant-kin, for some unknown reason no ogre had committed a crime within the kingdom of Hartsvale in twenty years.

Unfortunately for Earl Dobbin, Tavis was sure of what he'd heard. "If a hill giant were running through Stagwick's narrow streets, he'd be knocking huts down with every step." the innkeeper explained. "And ogres have high arches. They move on the balls of their feet, so their soles don't slap the ground."