He currently sat on the roof of a warehouse used to supply rations for the occupying force within the city. He and others had followed a number of giants during their nightly patrols. Not long before sunrise, the giants had all returned to the five main garrisons around the city.

At first Nedwin had guessed that the giants remained hidden at the various garrisons during the day, but he kept coming up against dead ends as he tried to discover where, specifically, they were housed. Then he had considered the morning food deliveries. The wagons went into the garrisons, remained unseen while food was unloaded, and then came out not long after dawn. All the wagons returned directly to a central warehouse. And that was where the tiny giants were unloaded. Nedwin had witnessed the process with his own eyes. The giants spent the day under one roof, sleeping and feasting, then returned to the garrisons with another food delivery before sunset.

Even in their small form, the giants ate a lot. It made sense to hide them where food was abundant and to limit the number of people who knew their secret by keeping the giants grouped at a central location. The logistics of maintaining five different covert holding areas at five separate garrisons would have been more complicated.

Of course, now that the secret was known, keeping the giants in a single location also made it easier to eliminate them. Or so Nedwin hoped.

He felt that the giants currently posed the single greatest threat to Trensicourt. There were more than eighty of the brutes, higher than the early estimates. That many giants backing the imperial guards every night was enough to make even the bravest revolutionary consider keeping his head down.

The imperial desire for secrecy increased the chance for success. There were not many human guards at the warehouse, and they kept out of sight. Most of them also helped drive the wagons. From what Nedwin could tell, no more than ten guards shared the secret, all of them senior conscriptors. The warehouse had only two entrances—a wide set of loading doors for the wagons, and a smaller door that led out the back. The guards protected the doors from the inside, probably to avoid drawing attention to the building.

The large warehouse had high, dirty windows. Reaching them had proven impractical—dangling upside down from the eaves would have left him much too exposed. So for reconnaissance purposes Nedwin had quietly cut holes in the roof.

As the sun elevated above the horizon, Nedwin reflected that this would be the first major blow against the usurpers who had staged the coup. To lose their giants would prove that their occupation was not as secure as it seemed. It would give others who wanted the empire out of Trensicourt reason to hope and reason to take action.

Losing eighty giants would also be a strong blow against Maldor. Of all the races of Zokar, giants were by far the rarest. They had aided Maldor in the past, giving him an undeniable advantage wherever they went. Nedwin felt eager to contribute to their extinction.

Although this would be his first military strike, Nedwin had already performed some minor mischief. Three days ago, toward the end of his search for the giants, Nedwin had accessed a garrison kitchen. For a moment he had been alone with three simmering kettles of stew. He carried multiple types of poison in the vials around his neck. He could have probably killed a fifth of the occupying soldiers.

But poison was a cowardly weapon, and the soldiers were tools, not masterminds. With access to a private bowl being delivered to Copernum, Nedwin would not have hesitated to make it lethal. A different set of rules applied to targeting a specific enemy. Poisoning a large group of soldiers was not only dishonorable, but it could lead to serious repercussions for the people of Trensicourt. Such unfair tactics would lead to unfair retaliation.

So instead Nedwin had seasoned the soup with a substance that would leave all who ingested it violently ill for at least a week. The feverish retching would be blamed on bad meat rather than shameful tactics. Although the enduring consequences would be minimal, over the short term the miserable symptoms would harm morale and reduce the number of guardsmen on patrol.

How would Copernum and his fellow conspirators respond to the death of the giants? They certainly would not want it known that their massive warriors had been wiped out in a single ambush. They would probably pretend to have sent them away. Nedwin suspected that only the most gullible soldiers and citizens would believe it.

Finally, Nedwin heard the first wagon clatter into the warehouse. He stole a couple of quick peeks as the second and third wagons rolled inside. It was a few minutes until the fourth arrived, and another short wait for the fifth and final shipment of miniature giants.

After the loading doors were closed and locked, Nedwin kept waiting. There was no need to rush the attack. He wanted them to have time to feel secure and relaxed. Let them eat. Let them unwind. Most of the giants would bed down, and the guards would settle in for another dull, routine day. Except for spoiled meat in the stew a few days ago, the city had been quiet ever since the night Copernum seized power. There was no reason for anyone to expect that pattern to break today, especially in this covert dormitory.

The sun climbed higher, reeling in the long shadows. Nedwin stretched. Too much inaction had left him feeling a little knotted. He rolled his neck, twisted his waist, extended his arms, and flexed his fingers.

He crept into position. There was no reason to hurry. Total silence was the goal, and he achieved it.

Late last night, while the giants were on patrol and the warehouse was still, Nedwin had constructed a hatch in the roof. Then he had erected a little tent over it. The tent would prevent sunlight from spilling through when the hatch opened. Even if he were spotted immediately, the plan should still work. But it would work better if he caught them completely unaware.

Easing the hatch open, Nedwin climbed down into the rafters. He knew that he might be seen at any moment. Movement tended to draw the eye, and there were many bodies below him. Most of them were slumbering dwarfs, but some were on their backs. All it took was one set of eyes.

He balanced up high in a shadowed corner crisscrossed with struts and beams. He watched those below him as best he could, motionless until he felt sure no gazes were directed his way. Inch by inch he reached the roost he wanted without anyone raising an alarm.

Below him four sentries clustered near the big doors by the wagons. Another pair of guards manned the smaller back door. Three-quarters of the dwarfs were asleep or at least trying. The others mostly conversed. A red-faced pair arm-wrestled across a square table. One dwarf whittled. Another munched on an apple. One read.

Nedwin held an orantium globe in each hand. The first throw was the trickiest. He wanted the globe to disable all four guards while damaging the loading doors enough for attackers to open them. It was a long throw. The pair by the back door was nearer.