Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,129

got a sizeable store of white phosphorous if things completely go to hell.”

“I see. So it’s going to be, piss in the cup or I burn your village to the ground? You realize that’s a pretty awful way to behave. Burning people alive is just about the classic definition of evil, and that’s coming from someone who once killed most of his friends.”

“They’re trolls,” argued Will.

“They’re people too. Plus, if you go with threats, things are very likely to go to hell. Trolls panic when they see fire. Do you know what people do when they panic?”

“Run?”

“Some run, some freeze, and others lose their minds and attack. If you make a threat in the troll village and someone calls your bluff, you’ll have to light someone or something on fire. When you do that, they’ll panic. Even if you manage to throw a bunch of those vials, they’ll tear you to pieces.”

It had been more than twenty-four hours since Will had last slept, and he was getting close to snapping as desperation and anxiety ate at his nerves. “Do you have an idea, then? I’m running out of time.”

“We’ll do it my way. Let me do the talking and do everything I tell you.”

“What’s your way?”

“We’ll be nice.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “When have you ever been nice? To anyone?”

“I’m always nice when I know I can’t win in a straight fight.”

“Not that I’ve seen,” countered Will.

“That’s because I was a badass. You probably never saw me around anyone I couldn’t whip, but this is one place where I always mind my manners.”

“Your manners are only matched by your excessive modesty and humility,” quipped Will.

“You really have a mouth on you, boy,” replied the ring.

“I learned from the best.” He was too tired to argue, though. “Let’s do it your way.”

He was dressed lightly, wearing only a single layer of cloth, an undertunic. He might have gone bare-chested, but the insects dissuaded him from doing that. On his head, Will wore the antler hat that Arrogan had made from the horns of the fae lord, Elthas. It didn’t have any magical properties, but since trolls couldn’t distinguish the differences between humans, it served to identify him. They didn’t know that Arrogan had died, so the antlers made them think he was the same man they had been dealing with for decades.

And the same one who had run out on the last deal without paying them their bonus cask of wine.

He had actually given them more wine than promised, but because it had all been in a single rundlet cask instead of in two separate quarter casks, the trolls had thought he had cheated them. Arrogan had had some choice words for him over that blunder.

Will hoped today’s gift would help clear up the misunderstanding. The two butts of ale were huge compared to the rundlet cask he had brought before, and apparently size mattered. A butt was roughly equivalent to seven rundlets, so he was bringing fourteen times the volume of ale as he had of wine.

“You’re sure you can talk them into this?” asked Will nervously as they marched eastward away from the stagnant lake.

“You brought two whole butts of ale, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’d say we have a fair chance, but don’t do anything weird like pointing at their dicks like you did last time. There will be a lot more of them in the village, and while Lrmeg wasn’t interested, you never know when you’ll come across a troll pervert.”

“That was an accident,” protested Will.

“Mm hmm, is that what you tell your wife?” said Arrogan, finishing with a wicked cackle. Will didn’t respond, so the ring continued to tease him. “Remember when you came back from Barrowden with a pregnant girl? You could come back from this place by yourself but still have to explain to your mother why you’re pregnant. I’m sure Erisa would get a kick out of that.”

Will shuddered, remembering the horrifying details of how trolls reproduced by breaking off a piece of themselves inside a partner. If