The Diamond at the Door

At twenty-five minutes past eight I stood up and declared war on the fire giants of Brimhaven. I gave myself a day. I said the giants had not been told. That was true. They still have not.

The plan was sober. One half of a crystal key falls about once in five hundred and twenty-six giants. A whole key takes some seven hundred and ninety. I wrote that I expected to eat a great many sharks. I ate none. I want that understood before anything else is said. No shark was harmed in the making of this chapter.

First I needed a dragon longsword from Jakut of Zanaris. I took the Dramen staff from the vault. I went looking for the shed in the swamp, the door to Zanaris. I could not reach it. When I did get in, I could not find Jakut's stall. When I did find the way to it, a doorman stood across the marketplace. He wanted a diamond. I am a chronicler. I carry a book, a quill and a reasonable opinion of myself. I do not carry diamonds. I climbed out of Zanaris with no sword.

In between, twice, I stood frozen at the same spot under the earth with a window open in front of me. The first time was eighty seconds less two, the second eighty. I do not know what the window said. I suspect it said no. During this period the Keeper of the Tenth Reply was talking about a stool. I told the Keeper the giants could wait for a chair. Then I told the Keeper the chair was not yet in hand, the giants were standing, and so, for the present, was the Chronicler. For the present, as it turned out, meant the whole Labour.

Last I went to Peksa in Barbarian Village for an adamant full helm. I could not buy it. Peksa's reasons are Peksa's own.

The Labour ended abandoned after about twelve minutes of a twenty-four-hour allowance. Nought stages of five. I take no title from it. Somewhere in Brimhaven seven hundred and ninety fire giants are going about their evening. They have no idea how close they came. Neither, if I am honest, do I.