Nimby rolls his eyes as he sarcastically states, “Oh yeah. These guys are certainly special. Although, I think our definitions of special differ slightly. One more explosion like that and I’m gone. I have too many errands to run, so being treated for severe burns isn’t an option.”
“You seem rather irritable today. Something happen on the ship?” Fritz asks, carefully watching his friend’s tense body language.
“No, I just don’t like being in Rodillen,” Nimby replies, his eyes subtly scanning the room every few minutes. “I kind of pissed off the wrong people during my last visit, so being back here makes me edgy.”
“Then, why go wandering around by yourself? I would think staying with others is a safer option. Excuse me for a second.” begins Fritz before shouting to a nearby gnome. “Hey, Geoff! I need to talk to you when you have a minute!” The gnome that he calls Geoff waves from behind a thick wall of glass.
“First of all, I would rather be alone because I don’t want to endanger the rest of you with this business. This is my past and it could get in the way of our trip if I’m not careful,” Nimby explains, pulling out a finely-crafted, wooden yo-yo. “Rodillen thieves are vicious and insane when it comes to handling internal business. They solve the problem by putting out a bounty, which leads to some of the dumbest people in the city coming out of the woodwork. Once a thief stole from the guildmaster and a bounty was issued. Some idiots took out the guy’s wife, sister, parents, and kids in an attempt to draw him out of hiding. Needless to say, those pieces of trash were put to death.”
“The guild executed their own members?” Fritz inquires with a raised eyebrow.
Nimby uncomfortably looks at his feet and fidgets with the yo-yo. “No, I did. I overheard them talking about killing the kids soon after they did it. I snapped and killed them in the middle of the guild lair. So, I ran out of town before the guildmaster could assess the situation.”
“Wow,” Fritz whispers in shock. “I never imagined that ‘hand of justice’ was a term that could ever describe you. I don’t even know what to say. Wow. New topic please.”
“I understand. Let’s see about a new topic,” Nimby says, swinging the yo-yo in lazy circles. “Got one. What is Geoff working on behind his protective barrier?”
“That nutcase has wasted the last three years trying to perfect this new type of material. He is more insane than the rest of us,” Fritz scoffs with uncharacteristic disdain in his voice. “He claims that he can create a material that is lighter than metal and sturdier than glass. I don’t believe it would have any armor or weapon uses since every sample he’s made has shattered easily. I believe he also rambled on about the material being able to help keep a room warm or cold depending on the surrounding environment. All of those weird objects around him are molds that he uses to sculpt this mystery material into strange shapes. An utter waste of time and resources considering he works in the Wonder Museum.”
Nimby stares at Geoff and his small lab with a look of awe in his eyes. “I think it sounds like a remarkable idea. The construction applications of such a material would revolutionize the industry. I could think of a few things to use it for if I wanted to build a house. Then there are the thievery applications that I won’t go into here.”
“I admire your interest, but I will keep my skepticism. I will believe his claims when I see the final material for myself,” Fritz declares. He notices that Nimby is starting to look disappointed and smoothly changes his tune. “Don’t get me wrong. I would be ecstatic for such a material to exist, but it’s merely a pixie dream at this point. For now, I consider him a stubborn fool who has lost himself to a single dream.”
“Then, why talk to him?” the confused halfling asks.
“Geoff is a chemical genius and I need some powders for my future endeavors,” Fritz answers, keeping an eye on the other gnome. “He should be done with my request in an hour unless we caught him at the beginning of a testing phase. Then, he might not be done until dawn.”
They continue to silently wait at the base of the statue with no sign of Geoff stopping his work. Nimby keeps himself occupied with his wooden toys while Fritz jots down notes on a piece of crinkled paper. Forty minutes have passed when a friendly, female gnome approaches them with a platter of cheese and two mugs of clean water. She places the food and drink at Fritz’s feet before shaking their hands and going back to her workshop.
“That was strange,” the halfling claims, taking a deep drink of the crisp water.
“Not really. She was in the middle of a project when she noticed us,” Fritz casually points out. “Talking might have disrupted her primary train of thought. So, she allowed one half of her brain to bring us food and drink while the other half remained focused on the invention.” Nimby gives him a helpless shrug before grabbing a hunk of cheese.
Fritz sighs and looks away from his notes to further explain, “It’s a special skill of my people. All gnomes act like that when in their workshops. We can have half of our mind in one direction while the other half is somewhere else. It’s a natural ability to perform two tasks at once, which is why we have become the inventors of Windemere. Nothing outside of magical creatures and the gods are as quick-thinking as a focused gnome.” As if to demonstrate, Fritz nibbles on a piece of cheese while his left hand goes back to writing formulas.
“That would be a headache for my kind. We love to talk and would rather forget our business than be rude and silent,” Nimby boasts with a satisfied grin. “A halfling’s fame is only as big as the mouth that speaks of it. That’s the halfling motto and I feel that I live up to it very well.”
“That you do, my friend,” Fritz laughs, putting his finished notes away. “Aren’t you glad you came here with me? We got to talk and learn some things about each other just like the good old days at the academy. Too bad we don’t have a fountain for us to continue our competition. I believe I’m still up by two dunks.”
“You’re up by one,” Nimby emphatically argues. “I pushed you into the river two days ago when you set yourself on fire. It counts since it’s water and you didn’t expect it.”
“Fine, I’ll give you that one,” grumbles the greasy gnome.
Nimby is about to saying something else when another explosion bigger than the last one, shakes the entire dome. Crashing metal can be heard from everywhere as the parts finally fall off of their suspended shelves. A screaming gnome runs frantically out of one of the workshops, his head sparking with electricity, and he collides with another unfortunate gnome who has flames rolling off his small body. The two slam into each other and collapse to the ground where they are quickly engulfed by flames and electricity. Immediately a blast of water hits them from below and more geysers erupt from the floor all over the room. As if this chaos wasn’t enough, Nimby looks up in time to see a circular saw blade ricochet off the far wall and speed toward the dais. The halfling tackles Fritz before the blade bounces off the bottom of the dais and impales itself in the iron statue’s leg.
“It would have missed me by two inches. Thanks though,” Fritz mutters, finally acknowledging the explosion.
“You are all insane,” Nimby gasps as he looks around at the mayhem. His hands are shaking and his legs feel weak as the halfling starts to move toward the door. “I think it’s best if I leave and go about my business. I’ll be much safer in town with the guild after me than in here with a group of crazy gnomes. Amateur assassins and idiot thieves are one thing, but you gnomes are too dangerous for me. Come back to us alive, Fritz.”
“I’ll be fine. You take care of yourself. Be a shame if you got into trouble so soon after meeting that cute sailor,” Fritz says with a lecherous smile. “See. I can get gossip too”.
Nimby manages a friendly smile at his friend before taking a deep breath. All of the gnomes curiously watch him as he holds up his hands and does a small countdown. He stretches his legs and keeps his eyes locked on the only clear path out of the dome. Once his left pinky finger curls against his palm,
Nimby makes a dizzying sprint for the door.
*****
Nimby gingerly touches the long scratch on his head from falling down the last ten feet of the Wonder Museum’s marble stairs. The cut stops bleeding and throbbing thanks a healing salve that he snatched from a passing gnomish priest, but there is not enough to completely heal the injury. The money that came with the salve could pay for a healing potion, but Nimby has already fallen victim to one of the natural laws of Rodillen. A crime done in broad daylight will always be seen by a third party. The third party in this instance is nothing more than a creaky, old gnome merchant who just happens to be blocking the halfling’s path with his cart full of wares.
“You aren’t very good at this,” the gnome states as Nimby simmers in frustration.
“I’m usually very good at this,” Nimby says. He continues fingering the stolen coins, which the gnome is intently eyeing. “Let’s see how good you are at your job after falling down marble stairs and landing on your head. Serious head injuries don’t help with pick-pocketing or haggling. So, just let me go on my way.”
“Sorry. The rules state that all witnesses must be paid off or they have the right to get the thief arrested,” the gnome declares, mock sympathy in his voice. He grins wide to reveal a few gaps in his teeth. “You can call me Gugen for the rest of this transaction.”
“Those are nothing more than guidelines, Gugen. I could also kill you and be done with it,” claims Nimby, hoping to scare the old gnome.
“You won’t.”
“Why not?”
“You aren’t the type.”
Nimby stops talking and grumbles to himself as he kicks at a small stone. He looks around the street to see how many people are around. There is a woman sweeping her front stoop and a circle of children playing a game of jacks by lantern light. A few movements in the shadows catch his attention. The invisible eyes of Rodillen are watching to see what he will do and if there are any weaknesses that they can take advantage of. Nimby finds it another stinging reminder that this city is just as he left it.
“What if I offered to buy something from you?” Nimby suggests. He begins to look at the cart as if he was a customer.
“That will work. Looking for anything specific?” Gugen asks with a sparkle in his hazel eyes.
“Something that is not experimental and self-destructive,” Nimby replies, the smile on Gugen’s face making him nervous.
Gugen thinks for a few seconds, mindlessly fingering a few of his wares. “In that case, you would want to look through this section of the cart. We have gnomish combat disks, which are popular among those that rely on deadly stealth. It’s my biggest seller. I hope you aren’t entirely squeamish about gnome products.”
“Not entirely. One of my good friends is a gnome and he’s had me test his inventions far too many times,” Nimby admits, picking up an inch-long disk. He pulls out a piece of wood from his pocket and neatly slices it in half with the metal disk. “The results have left me both cautious and respectful of all things gnome.”
“Are you interested in that?” Gugen inquires with a grin.
Nimby sighs and puts them back in the cart. “I don’t really like the handle of these things. I would need more practice to make them worth having, but I don’t have the time to learn. Maybe another time.”
“Then, may I interest you in these items?” Gugen offers him, reaching into a compartment on his side of the cart. “They are slightly self-destructive, but they lack the power needed to cause major damage. That is unless you get one of them in the face. You don’t want to do that.”
Gugen pulls out four wooden tubes that are each eight inches in length. Half of the tube is colored red and the other half has been colored black. A twisted rope, that has a faint aroma of oil, is sticking out of the red side of each tube.
“What are they?” Nimby asks as he takes one. It is heavier than he thought it would be. A shifting sound like sand in an hourglass can be heard as he flips it into the air.
“Careful. These are called fireworks. It’s an entertainment invention that we use during our holidays. To use one, you light these ropes and leave it on the ground with the black side aimed at the sky. Make sure to distance yourself once you light the rope since it acts like minor explosive,” Gugen warns him. He snatches the firework out of the air when Nimby flips it again. “They create beautiful decorations in the sky that resemble blasts of colored fire, which is why you do not want to get hit in the face by one of these babies. This sky fire vanishes within seconds and only leaves a trail of smoke. It can be used as a signal flare or distraction if need be. I would say that you should pay two gold coins for each of these.”
“Eight gold coins for four of them?” Nimby inquires, obviously suspicious of the price. “That’s a high price for something I can get my friend to make.”
“Again you mention your gnome friend. Can I have a name?”
“Fritz Warrenberg.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Fritz and I have been friends for a few years.”
Gugen cackles hysterically until tears pour from his eyes and he looks at Nimby with a sudden expression of wonder. “In that case, four silver pieces for all four of the fireworks. A friend of the great Fritz Warrenberg is a friend of mine. You keep good company, halfling. I have worked with many gnomes in my lifetime and most of them lacked true vision. They merely altered that which already existed. A true visionary, like Fritz, builds from scratch and pulls creation from the mental ether. Another who has come close to the vision and creativity of Fritz Warrenberg is his daughter. Catarina Warrenberg is just like her old man.”
Nimby is already handing the money over and taking the fireworks when he realizes what Gugen had said. “I don’t . . . Fritz has a daughter?”
“I take it that he has not introduced you to her,” Gugen states, mildly surprised.
“I guess he didn’t want her to become public knowledge around the academy. It could have ruined his reputation as a womanizer,” Nimby says with a small shrug. “I should get going. It has been nice doing business with you.”
“Keep your head attached, young thief,” Gugen whispers.
Nimby smiles before starting down the street. He gets a few blocks before a crash in an alley catches his attention. Against his better judgment, Nimby looks down the alley to see a dark blue alley cat with a crooked tail hissing from a windowsill. Below the terrified beast is a snarling dog with drool dripping from its mouth. Nimby makes a quick dash into the alley as the dog makes a leap at the cat.
“Back off,” Nimby snarls. The dog has its rotten teeth clamped on his shoulder where a small patch of blood begins to form on his shirt. Slowly, the dog lets go and backs away until an angry yell from the halfling scares the dog out of the alley.
Nimby reaches under his shirt and pulls out a scrap of leather armor. The section that was over his shoulder blade is slightly punctured and sticky from the minor flow of blood. Nimby looks it over carefully before searching his pockets for a bottle of clear liquid. He laces the inside of the armor with the liquid and fastens it under his shirt again. A burning heat enters his wound, which cause the halfling to release a hiss of pain.
“Come here, little guy,” Nimby coos as the cat eyes him from above. The cat looks down at him cautiously before leaping down and landing in his arms. Nimby calmly pets the dirt-covered stray as it nuzzles his arm. It grazes his bad shoulder by accident and Nimby cringes from the sudden pain.
“Weaknesses should never be shown. Give me your money, runt,” says a voice from behind him. A dagger is pressed against the back of Nimby’s head as a tiny hand tries to find his money.
“This is just not my day,” Nimby groans.
“Where is your money?” the voice snaps, a brief quivering in its tone.
“You’re just a kid. The impatience and frustration is evident in your voice,” Nimby says without making any move to reveal his money pouch. “By the angle of the dagger point against my head, I wo
uld say a human of about ten years. I don’t feel a large amount of pressure, so you’re unconfident and physically weak. Just leave me alone, kid, and rob someone else. I have things to do.”
The kid audibly gulps, but tries to bravely continue his heist. “What are you? A master thief? I’ve never seen you at the guild meetings.”
Nimby lets the cat drop as he puts his hands over his head. “I’m from before your time. I would recommend letting me leave and pretending that you never saw me. This city tends to bring out the worst in me and I would hate to take it out on you. Try leaving the city and finding another job after we part ways. By the way you hold that weapon, I would think being a painter is more your style. It’s a very loose hold and your hand movements are very fluid if not unrefined. Don’t waste your life in the guild while waiting for it to get you killed.”
“You can’t be that old,” the kid stutters. Nimby feels the hold on the dagger loosen. He suddenly rolls forward and does a handstand against a pile of garbage. The kid attempts to stab down at his face, but Nimby cartwheels to the side. The weapon drives through a bag of tavern trash and the boy’s arm goes elbow deep into the filth.
“Don’t move,” whispers Nimby, holding his dagger against the young thief’s throat. He can see tears starting to form in the kid’s eyes and a pathetic sniffling starts to fill the air.
“Please don’t kill me,” the child begs.
“I won’t kill you,” Nimby promises, his voice sounding stern, but sympathetic. “The worst I will do is knock you out and leave you for the guards. They don’t imprison children, so you would be let go with a warning and several months of being watched. Of course, this could make you a liability for the guild. Your life would be forfeit if the guildmaster decided that your capture was too much exposure. So, answer my question before I turn your life into a massive game of chance.” He subtly runs the dagger along the kid’s throat without breaking the skin.
The kid nearly passes out from fear before saying, “Yes, sir.”
Legends of Windemere: 02 - Prodigy of Rainbow Tower Page 13
