Carver had hands big enough to wrap around the neck of a bear, and that’s why I chose him to go with me to meet with Drixxical. Oh, my mistake. Let me rephrase that: ‘Lord Drixxical the Golden, He of the Mighty Gaze’.

Not sure what in the Hells a ‘mighty gaze’ is, but this idiot claimed it was part of his name. Pretty mild name for a wizard, but whatever. All I wanted him to be was ‘Rich Drixxical of the Overflowing Purse’. Fat monkey owes us for a load of loot, and if anyone can collect the due, it’s me and Carver.

So I handed the sack to Carver, and he tied it to his belt like it was his purse.

“Don’t lose that,” I warned him. Looking up at his scruffy face makes my neck feel like it’s gonna seize up.

“It’s the head bag?” he asked. Gotta give him points: he’s not usually that observant.

“Yep. And the tail thing too.”

He grinned past broken teeth the size of flagstones and batted at the bag like a cat with a toy.

“And don’t break it!” I said, poking at his iron-hard skin with a finger. “There’s glass in there.”

Of course, if the glass bulb breaks we’re screwed anyway, what with it containing the baby ochre jelly. That one cost us Kincannon. Mommy Jel ate him smooth up. Still, his distraction bought us the time we needed to snatch up the babe, so I’ll raise a glass to him later.

I don’t expect much of a fight, but I make sure Carver has his knife (or as I call it, “that bloody big sword”) and I’ve got the axes. He’s wearing the piecemeal leather jack we’ve put together (Give us a break – it’s tough to find armor to fit a half-giant!) and I’ve got the wyvern-scale coat that’s seen me through all the stupidity of the last four years. Between us, we should be able to handle anything that magic-boy wants to hand us.

Unless he’s got that stupid dancing spell ready again. I swear, next time that one comes out, I’m shanking him and just taking what I want from his corpse.

Elements: mild, ochre, bulb, tail, scale