Miranda's Giants, Chapters 4-6

Chapter 4: Shade Explains

“Do you know a man named Ian Castor?” was his first and startling question.

Miranda was taken aback. “Yes! I mean, sort of… I, well, if it’s the same man…” She paused, trying to calm herself, took a deep breath and said, “That’s my father’s name.”

Shade did not seem surprised. “And perhaps your mother’s name was Tihana?”

“What!” Miranda had never, ever met anyone who had even heard the name before, much less guessed it. “Yes, it was,” she said faintly. “How did you know?” She sank down onto the bed.

Shade walked to the window and stood, gazing out in silence for a while before answering. “Because she was,” he stopped and turned back to face her. “She was my sister.”

Miranda was stunned. She remembered now; three years ago, just months before her mother had died, asking her where her family lived. They had always avoided the subject, and Miranda had never before dared to bring it up, sensing it hurt her mother, but her curiosity got the better of her once. Her mother looked at her sadly, as if the question unearthed long-buried tragedies. “Far away.” She answered. “Your father and I wanted to take you to see them; perhaps we will find a way someday.” Miranda had never understood the meaning of this before, and she had dropped it then, but it was beginning to make sense now. And if her mother was Shade’s sister… There certainly was a family resemblance, now that she thought to look for it.

Shade crossed the room and gripped her shoulder. “Miranda, tell me what has become of her. Does she yet live? Is she well? Tell me she is happy!”

She looked up and saw the pain in his eyes. Her own eyes smarted, and tears tumbled from them, unable to hold them back. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say, but she could see that he knew what she meant. She buried her face in her hands and wept tears long restrained.

She felt Shade sit on the bed beside her, and finally he asked, “How did she die?”

Miranda dragged in a breath and swiped at her eyes. “A fever took her. The doctors never could understand why it should take her; it wasn’t commonly deadly. But it did, and, oh! I can’t talk about it! It all happened a year ago – one year, but it feels like yesterday.” She couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. She put her head on her knees and cried, wracked almost beyond sobs. She couldn’t look at Shade. He put his arm around her, not even trying to stop her tears. Time slipped discreetly by, and slowly her sobs faded, no more tears left inside her to cry.

Groping for words, the story spilled slowly out. In their minds’ eye, they saw the woman they both knew; her merry laugh and buoyant step; her soft brown hair and burning green eyes. Miranda told the story of those horrible dark days, when those green eyes had burned with fever, until they could no longer see and she groped blindly for each of them, knowing she was dying, those slow breaths, and then the moment when those eyes would never see again, and it seemed that the whole world had come to an end. She had asked herself then, and so many times since, how many times could someone’s world end, how many times could a person’s heart break, and still find the courage to go on living?

“How did – how did she come to be my mother?” Miranda gulped at last, raising her head, fighting the shudders of grief within her. She was still looking at her toes and not at her uncle, but she was hungry for answers.

Shade sighed and straightened. “Your father stumbled into this world, and in the end, it was my fault. I was a new Wanderer, and that was how I met him. The cottage you came from is a chink – the chink – between that world and this. I knew the family who lived there, and when Ian blundered into their home I happened to be there. We got along well, and I offered to take him around with me – a grave mistake. We became really good friends – brothers in everything but blood, we would say – and I took him home with me on a visit. He met my baby sister, little Tihana, and it was all over.”

“Why didn’t he just stay here?” Miranda asked brokenly.

“That’s not the way of things. He kept finding excuses to stay around for a while, but eventually he did marry her, and the greatest thing she sacrificed for it was leaving her world. They were going to visit regularly, and did, up until you were a baby, but then the chink snapped and the communication between the worlds ended. I never saw her again.”

Miranda ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. “But why did she have to die? I don’t understand!”

“I don’t know. Oftentimes we can never know such things until the story is complete.”

“But it shouldn’t have killed her! It doesn’t make sense; it really should not have killed her.”

“We can never predict what may befall anyone. The strong fall prey to illnesses and wounds that lesser people survive practically unscathed.”

“But it was my fault!” Miranda wailed. “I gave her the fever! I caught it first, and I wasn’t careful enough and she caught it and died!”

Shade slid off the bed and crouched in front of her. She buried her face in her hands. “Miranda, look at me.” Slowly she let her hands drift down her cheeks and dragged her eyes up to meet his. “Upon the shoulders of no one can the blame be laid.”

“Except mine. It was my fault. I –”

“Would you say your father is to blame?” Shade asked abruptly.

 “No!” She was shocked.

“You are no more to blame than he. Your father might say it was his fault for marrying her and taking her to the world where she met her death, but it would not make it true.”

“Well, no, but it was me. I’m just as bad as a murderer!” She dropped her eyes, unable to look at him anymore.

“Do not let yourself be deceived!” Shade said forcefully. “You are not murderess. When someone we love leaves us, oftentimes we find ways to blame ourselves. We distort facts to reflect the fault on us, and then shred ourselves because of it. What happens to a tree when winter comes?”

Miranda, more confused than she could ever remember being in her life, answered almost mechanically, “It loses its leaves and hibernates until spring. Then it sprouts buds and grows again through the summer, autumn takes its leaves and the frost comes again.”

“Yes. But if, after the cold and frost, the tree refused to respond to the warming touch of spring, saying, ‘if I grow now, when the frost comes next winter it will happen all over again; better to remain deep down here, where nothing can get me and I can do no harm’, what would happen?”

“It would die.”

“It would die. Its beauty, its fruit, all it ever gave to the world, all it ever loved from the world, would be lost. Everyone has their winters, their seasons of grief and loss; that is life. But they must waken again in springtime, not retreat from it.”

“Isn’t that different?” Miranda was uncertain. The guilt she had harbored since her mother’s death, freezing her heart, was thawing. She sensed the spring, but was apprehensive of its coming; of releasing the guilt she had held for so long that it seemed a part of her.

“No. At the heart, it is the same. You see? I hold nothing against you, your family holds nothing against you, and I know you mother would hold nothing against you. Only one person will not let it go: you.”

“But –”

“Learn to let it go, Miranda. Self-blame and self-condemnation will in the end be self-destructive. You cannot hold on to them forever. Promise me you will do this.”

“Do what?” she whispered.

“Release the death grip you have on guilt. Free yourself from the downward spiral in which you are caught. It is death to hold on and freedom to let go. Will you promise?”

Miranda no longer was trying to avoid his gaze. She took a slow shuddering breath, looked him straight in the eyes and said, “I promise.”

“Good! Just as the seed did not fear the tree, so the tree need have little fear of the thaw.” He stood up, looking down at her. She could see the sadness still in his eyes, but also a surety of – something, she could decide what. “Remember, we may not understand the reasons for something now, but later, when our tales and others have come to an end, then we will see, and understand. But I fear I must go.”

“Where?” Miranda felt a bit dizzy and sick, not entirely recovered from her rough introduction to this world. She wanted to talk, ask Shade more questions, but she couldn’t get her mind to focus properly. And, she was forced to admit to herself, her emotions were far too upside down and inside out to concentrate.

“I’m going to make arrangements for further moves.” Shade said. “Not a moment must be lost. I have spoken to the prince who is, unlike his father, a friend of mine and loyal. He has arranged for me with his father that your room shall be guarded by my men, so you need have no fear from that quarter. You will get a visitor from me soon. Oh, and,” he indicated the bundle on the floor. “I think Juno’s wife assembled aught for your needs.” He strode to the window and leapt onto the sill. “ I shall return soon – on the heels of my messenger.” And he was gone. Miranda pushed up to her feet, swayed, and walked to the window. Squinting against the late sun, she saw Shade fast disappearing, climbing down the wall like a gray-cloaked spider.

Chapter 5: The Visitor

Miranda picked up the bundle, eager to explore its contents. First she found a short dress, or possibly a tunic, that came down just past her knees and a pair of sturdy almost leather leggings, loose almost like pants. Riding clothes, she realized, at least, they were very like old time riding clothes she had seen pictures of. Did that mean they were to ride? She didn’t much like the idea; she had only ever ridden a horse once before, and that a docile old pony at the fair. Oh, well, I suppose I’ll deal with that later. She was in no mood to think about it now.

Next, to her delight, was a comb and tie for her hair. The boots, near the bottom of the bundle, were made of strong leather and looked like they would be an excellent fit, despite her small feet. Finally, she noticed a packet wrapped in protective cloth. Unfolding it, she discovered a small loaf of bread, a round of cheese the size of a hamburger, and some strips of dried meat. Mentally, she thanked Juno’s wife for the things she had sent, each precious to her at that moment.

Being hungry, for she had not eaten since dinner the night before, she wasted no time in setting to the task of eating. She was well into her meal when there was a smart rap on the door. She tried to gulp her bite down to clear her mouth, but before she succeeded the gray-clad man who had come with Shade opened the door. He nodded to Miranda, set a bowl and pitcher inside the room and closed the door again stealthily. She made a dive for them. Sure enough, she found what she had hoped to find: water. She drank straight from the jar, closing her eyes, relishing the cool wetness in her mouth. When her thirst was quenched sufficiently, she poured some into the bowl to wash her feet. In short order she was refreshed, clean, and in new clothes, with her annoyingly wild black waves tamed into a long neat braid.

“If I must face problems,” Miranda said aloud, “Then I’d much rather face them on a full stomach than not. And being prepared would be nice.” She added as an afterthought. She sat on the bed and leaned against the wall, thinking over her situation. It was not a pretty one. She was trapped in a strange, magical country with no likelihood of finding her way back, and she had already managed to get on the wrong side of the king. Add to that, her only friends in this place were considered to be vagabonds by everyone else, and she was even now being detained in half-prison. Plus, no one back home knew – or would believe, except her father – where she was and how she got there. It would just seem to them as though I’ve disappeared in a single night. I suppose that’s better than disappearing in many nights – at least, less alarming. In the stories, it’s always instant. I wonder, is there a way in magic to make someone gradually disappear? She wondered if any of the authors of old time had believed in magic and had ever been to “another place”. She could make no plans at present, nor inform her family as to where she was, and there was nothing she could do. She was so tired still, so she lay back on the bed let herself drift into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Four days and three nights passed in the same, monotonous boredom. Miranda now received three meals a day in her room – a welcome change after the first, but she longed for something to do. Shade had said that not a moment must be lost, but the days were slipping by and nothing was happening. She wondered again what he had meant by the king owing a debt to her blood. He said it would be alright, Miranda thought wryly, he didn’t say it wouldn’t be boring. She longed for action, to move, to do something, anything.

On the fourth night, her door opened abruptly, and the guard – one of Shade’s gray-clad men – handed her a folded piece of paper. She thanked him and he withdrew. This was a change. She sat down at the little table in her room and turned the paper over and over, examining it. It had been very strategically folded, so that there was only one point of entry and no peek holes. The only opening had been sealed in green wax and stamped with a strange design. Miranda bent over it, trying to make out what it was. It appeared to be a bow, with an arrow on the string and at full draw, pointed upwards a little, aiming at a star. She shrugged. She had no idea what it meant or whose it was, but it seemed to be unbroken, so she popped it off and unfolded the note. It ran:

My visitor should come tonight. She may seem strange, but you can trust her. Listen well to what she has to say; it will aid you in ways you cannot yet understand. I will come tomorrow if I can, or the day after at the latest. Be ready to act then.

Shade

Miranda read it again to be sure. A strange woman, the messenger Shade had spoken about, would be coming that very night. Her heart beat faster. Miranda liked action. She liked things to be moving and in progress. She hated delay and procrastination, hated every minute of time lost on nothing when it could be spent on something better. The wait had irked her, but now, things were moving at last. She liked how it sounded as though lots of speed would be employed as soon as Shade returned. Miranda liked speed, too. She folded the note back up and tucked it away. She did not want to lose it, or for it to fall into the wrong hands. She had begun to pace as she usually did most of the day every day in this cell, thinking over the note, when the door opened a second time. An old woman was admitted, and she took her seat on the chair without a word. Miranda studied her guest for a moment before speaking. She seemed old, hair silvered with years and skin as wrinkled as a raisin, but her eyes were clear and bright. She was spry despite her apparent age and did not falter a step.

“Are you the messenger from Shade?” Miranda asked.

The woman cocked her head. “Ah, he told you I would be coming, did he? Yes, young Shade did ask me to pay you a visit, and tell you certain things.”

“My name is Miranda. What’s yours?”

“A name is meaningless, in a way, and yet it holds a power all its own. Mine is Deja, or at least that is the shortening of it. You may call me that.”

This woman definitely is eccentric, Miranda thought, but I like her. “Okay, Deja, what were the things you were going to tell me?”

This seemed to tickle the old woman’s funny bone in the worst way, for she dissolved into helpless laughter. When at last she had mastered herself somewhat, she said, “Oh, little Miranda, I can’t tell you everything all in a minute. More haste makes for less speed, and you’ll be lucky if I’ve finished half of what you need to know by morning.”

Miranda’s jaw dropped open at this, but she took a deep breath and sat down on the bed. “Well then, I guess we’d better get started.”

Deja settled herself in the chair and began. “I will explain five things to you. First, the chinks between worlds; second, how the giants plugged the leak; third, how you came through despite; fourth, what you need to do to fix it; and fifth, the last and longest of all, why. To begin, I will explain what the chinks are.” She picked up the cloth Miranda’s bundle had been wrapped in, which had lain folded on the table and shook it out, spreading it flat on the table. “Come here and look, child.” Miranda stood behind the chair and watched as Deja spoke. “This is time and space. All magic happens because of a warping of both time and space, so if you think of these horizontal sides being time, and the vertical sides being space, then when this happens,” she placed two fingers diagonally on the square and pulled, so that the cloth wrinkled up between her fingers, “A warp, or ripple, is formed, and a chink made.” She smoothed it out again. “If I warp only time,” she repeated her maneuver horizontally, “You have what is called time travel. But if I warp only space,” she did it vertically, “Then you have secret places in nothingness, mysterious disappearances, and the like. Combine them, and you have a chink between two worlds.”

“Are there many chinks in every world, or is there only ever one per world? How many worlds are there, anyway?” Miranda asked.

“The answer to your second question no one knows. Two for certain; and it is said that there is – or was – another, but beyond that, there is no way to know. As for your for your first question, it depends on the world. Ours has only one known chink. I do not know for yours. Now about the giants –”

“Hold, hold, please!” Miranda interrupted. “How did giants get into this? What do they have to do with me being here and me getting back? I hate giants; can’t you leave them out of the story?”

Deja shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. They are, in a way, the point of the story. Long ago, they came into this world and have since been making war upon our kind. In the course of these wars, they learned of the chink, and determined to squash it if ever they could. They went to great pains to learn its secrets, and after many, many long years, they learned how to quench it, or at least stifle it. Shade told me you saw the cottage. Is that true?”

Miranda nodded. “It is. It was awful. I wondered what happened there.”

“Long dwelt there a family with the name of Sheque. They were strong resisters, and long held off the power of the goblins, the minions of the giants. But then, fourteen years ago, the giants came themselves to the hut and did battle against the Sheque’s, and conquered the cottage, and that which it guarded: the chink between the worlds. Mrs. Sheque, her young daughter and baby son, escaped alive, but though she watched for many years, her husband and oldest son, who had held the door behind them, never returned. The giants took possession of the place and put many spells of binding black magic upon the chink to hold it closed, and long it remained impenetrable.”

“Then how did I get through? Did the spells break or something? Or are the giants such oafs that they took their own spells off? How did it happen?”

Deja sat up straight. “No! You must not think of them as oafs or louts or anything else but dangerous! As with any magic spell, those made and cast by willful beings and not that created of itself, like the wrinkles in the cloth, have somewhere in them a loophole. The spell itself twists the words of the one who cast it, mangling it to be things originally unintended. That is the danger in such operations. But so desperate were the giants that they risked this chance, and so brought about their own undoing. They blocked out strangers of that world entering this, and people from this world entering that, but you are of a blood native of this world, yet you came the reverse way, so tricking the spell to fault and err by letting you through.”

“But why didn’t it happen before to me or Zeke either? He is of the same blood as me, so we both should have had the chance before.” Miranda’s brain was spinning with the sheer amount of knowledge she was trying to absorb, and none of it made much sense.

“I cannot say. Some only fault for women, some only for men, and some only at certain times or on certain days, or for other reasons I can’t go into now. Whatever the reason, you came through, which is the point.”

“What point?”

Deja tapped her fingers as though counting. “Point numbers four, and then five: what you need to do to fix it, and why. For those spells cast by men – or giants, for that matter – they not only have a loophole, but they also have a shatter-point. If those who cast the spell are slain, the spell will break, and often cannot be cast again.”

Miranda shrugged. “That doesn’t seem to be too hard. Why hasn’t somebody shot the beastly things yet, or stabbed them or something?”

Deja tapped the square of cloth. “Because among the many spells the giants dragged out of the darkness and used, were charms of protection. They built an invisible wall about themselves. Many brave men have fallen attempting to slay them. Arrows bounce back useless, knives and swords shatter, spears bend and snap.”

“Then what can I do?” Miranda felt helpless.

“You are the giants’ doom. The spells faulted for you before; they shall fault for you again. If you face them, you may very well destroy them. But we cannot force you. It is your choice whether or not to try. But this I will say: unless the spells that shut the chink twist completely contrary to design to make an exception for you, you will not get back home as long as the giants live, or possibly forever. Many such spells, once those who cast them die, naturally I mean, they are set in stone; unchangeable forever.”

“You don’t need to try and convince me!” Miranda exclaimed. “I want to go home, but even if I didn’t need to open the way, I should hope that I would not shrink from the duty so plainly set before my eyes. I will slay the giants, or die trying.”

Deja smiled up at the young girl, so filled with passionate determination. “Then may you succeed, child. If you are so firm then, I will tell you a bit more about them which will help you understand. Remember the eyes.”

Chapter 6: A Delicate Plan

Despite Deja’s prediction, she departed a full hour before sunrise. Miranda fell asleep the instant her head hit the bed and slept deeply for several hours. When she at last awoke the sun was high, and there was still no word from Shade. She ate her breakfast, and was playing with the scrap of cloth, crinkling it first for “time”, then for “space”, and last both. She never wanted to forget that illustration. It made magic seem more real, more possible and logical, almost even scientific, than the far-fetched fantasy ideal in all the books she’d read. She was still playing with the cloth when there was a knock on the door. She turned, and Shade entered.

“Has there been any trouble?” he asked.

Miranda shook her head. “No, not anything of the least interest happened, except for last night when Deja came and talked to me. I was quite undisturbed and have had plenty of time to think.”

“Good. I was worried. The prince sent me a message last night telling me that the king his father had laid plans to attack this room and get his hands on you. He had all his men – those loyal to him if not his father – and the Wanderers here on the alert. We don’t have much time to work with.”

“So are we going to act today?” Miranda asked.

“As soon as possible.” Shade said, smiling at her eagerness. He sat down on the chair and dropped a set of squares of stiff paper, rather like playing cards, on the table. “Plans before action, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Plans for what? I mean, I just shoot them and that’s all there is to it.”

“Not quite. You know the goblins are servants of the giants, don’t you? So if you try to attack the giants, you would be set on by a several hundred goblins. We need a diversion, something to draw them off to leave the giants free to you. Even as it is you’ll have a hard enough time with the giants without dealing with goblins to boot.”

“You really think it’ll be that hard?” Miranda asked, paling.

Shade was silent for a moment. “If mere wishing were any use at all, I could wish it didn’t have to be this way. But the choice was not in my hands, and all I can do now is give you the best possible shot at it. Strategy will help us there. The prince has, as I said, troops loyal to him who are not wholly on the side of their villainous king. They will help us.”

“I’m willing to risk my life,” she said thoughtfully, “I just figured since there were only three of them that I had to face that my chances of coming out alive would be pretty high.”

“Did Deja tell you all about the giants?”

“Yes. And she told me to shoot them in the eyes when I do, saying that was their ‘point of vulnerability’. But doesn’t that make the diversion all we have to plan?”

“Do you know how to shoot a bow?” Shade asked.

“Oh, no I don’t. I didn’t think of that. I suppose I’d have to learn.”

“Yes, unless you have skill with another weapon that will do as well.”

Miranda blushed. “I can shoot a gun, but that’s the extent of my weapon skill.”

“Your father said the same when he came. He departed an archer. Of course, we won’t have time to put you through full training, but I think one intense lesson we could spare time for. As for the rest of the plans –” he paused, a thought seeming to cross his mind.

Just at that moment, Miranda heard voices outside the door, and in a few seconds it opened and a tall man of about thirty years stepped in.

“Your men are suspicious, friend Shade,” he said. “Your guard almost would not let me in.”

Miranda eyed the newcomer dubiously. This must not be the prince Shade had said was coming, for he was not wearing any of the fancy trick-out that the king had been wearing when she’d seen him, but was clad in a black tunic without any markings except for an emblem embroidered in silver. She guessed it to be a star with a circle around it, but it just as well might have been anything else encompassed by a ring. His skin was rich brown, like coffee, and his hair was raven black like the king’s, only without the gray.

“I should have warned him you were coming, but it slipped my mind,” Shade said. “This is the girl – my niece, Miranda – who is going to face the giants. Miranda, this is Prince Natyan.”

“Not here I’m not.” The prince said calmly. “I am shaking off all association with my father’s deeds and activities. Until things are put to rights I shall simply be known by Natyan.”

Miranda wasn’t sure what to say, but she felt that she should say something, so she said, “Thank you for your help, sir. I really appreciate it.”

“Any friend of Shade’s is under my protection. You will have your own share of troubles without me adding to them.” He turned to Shade. “Did you say you have a plan?”

Shade took a deep breath. “Yes.” He turned his cards over, and Miranda saw that on the reverse side were sketches. One had an archer with a drawn bow on it, another had a swordsman, and another had a shape she recognized all too well – a goblin. Two others he kept separate, and she saw that one had three figures on it, two large men shapes, and a large woman’s shape. That must represent the giants. On the other card was a girl, small and fragile beside the overlarge figures on the other card, holding a bow. Miranda thought she knew what the cards were for.

Shade beckoned her and the prince closer. “These are the Wanderers,” he said, pointing at the archer cards. “We’ll say there are two hundred of them, though I cannot reveal their exact number. These are the troops we can count on to fight for us,” he gestured to the swordsmen cards. “And of course the goblins. I propose this. Across the river and upstream a half-mile or so is the place we have pinpointed as the goblin’s main lair. The land rises in wooded slopes behind, in which Wanderers with bows could be secreted. Then the soldiers, charging the lair from the front, could draw the goblins out to battle, and the Wanderers could open fire from behind, throwing them into confusion. If, as is most likely, a portion of them turn to attack us to stop our shooting at them, we could lay aside our bows once they’re in range and fight hand to hand. Thus caught between swords and bows, few could escape the net to go to the aid of their leaders the giants.”

“But then what of Miranda? How would she draw out the giants to her without a host of goblins hitching a ride? Their retinue, I mean, or something like that?” Natyan asked.

“I don’t even know how I can get close enough to challenge them without being stomped on!” Miranda declared.

“That’s simple enough,” Shade said.

“I don’t see how,” she persisted.

“If I know these giants and their tricks, they will try to ambush us in the same way we will have ambushed them. They’re not very inventive on their own but they imitate what they see. They will try to come around behind the soldiers – out of range of the bows – and wreak havoc there. In order to do that, they would have to go around – either up behind the hills and down around the other side, or cross the river and follow it down to the army. My guess would be the latter course, for it is shorter and easier, and that is what they like. Of course, it wouldn’t do to leap to conclusions and we would post watchers on the other side too, but I think you should wait near the cottage until you learn further news.”

“How will they not squash me before they hear me?” she asked.

“They are not as large as rumor makes them. Tall, yes; perhaps twice as tall as you, but not as tall as a tower. As for your challenge, I don’t think you will need a spoken one – an arrow in the air speaks as much as any words.”

Miranda liked this idea much better. “Smar-ret.” Then, seeing Shade’s puzzled look, she blushed, embarrassed. “Oh, that’s just something Zeke and I do, twisting words. ‘Smart’.”

Natyan was studying the cards Shade had arranged on the table. “So we will be engaged in combat of this side of the river, and then over here,” He moved the giant cards and Miranda’s farther down, creating a gap, “While she fights the giants on the yonder shore here?”

“That was my proposition, if Miranda agrees and if the giants do as I suspect they will.”

Miranda shrugged. “It seems a brilliant plan to me. As for the giants, from what I know of you and your guessing skills, I’ll bet my bottom dollar you suspect correctly.”

“Then that’s settled.” Natyan said, sounding pleased. “It is a delicate plan, balanced on a pinpoint, but it is a good one. We will move forward on it then, with steady hearts and a hope burning in them of success for the future. When were you thinking, Shade?”

“We march in an hour’s time.” Shade said firmly. “That will be enough time for your men to arm and provision themselves for a swift march. If all goes well, we will launch the attack this very afternoon.”

“Very well. I will order my men to prepare with all caution and secrecy. And you will, I expect, be teaching Miranda to shoot?”

“That was my thought.”

“Good grief! In only an hour? I could never learn that fast – it’s impossible!” The instant the last two words left her mouth, Miranda remembered how much she had once thought impossible that she now accepted as granted.

Shade raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Well, maybe not,” she admitted. “But almost.”

“‘Almost’ and ‘is’ are two different things. This is just the first obstacle in the not-impossible undertaking of slaying the giants.”

“Can’t wait to see what’s next.” Miranda muttered.

“Something harder to overcome, as likely as not.” Shade said.