by Markus Heitz
"What I think is my business, not yours! Anyhow, I was forced to join this expedition against my will and I don't see why I should suffer in silence. It wasn't my idea to come on this mission, and I'm going to keep reminding you of that."
"Actually, Goпmgar, you're not. No more insults, no more snide comments, no more cussed remarks, or I'll solder your lips together with red-hot metal. Do you understand? We need your hands and your craftsmanship, not your poisonous tongue." Eyes flashing, he turned to Bavragor and Boпndil. "As for you two, you're to leave him in peace. The teasing stops now."
Goпmgar puffed furiously on his pipe, sending clouds of blue smoke shooting toward the ceiling. He got up and walked to the door. "Don't worry, I'm not running away," he said scornfully when he saw the alarmed expression on Tungdil's face. "I'm going outside so I can walk up and down and be as insulting, snide, and cussed as I like-and you'd better not get in my way!"
He marched out, letting the door slam behind him.
Rodario was the first to break the silence. "Would anyone like the last of this delectable sausage?" he inquired. "I'm still a little hungry, but good manners dictate that…" He broke off when no one showed any sign of responding, and decided that the lack of interest entitled him to help himself. Having finished the sausage with gusto, he dipped his hands in the tub of warm water provided by the publican and lathered the soap in preparation for a wash.
He was watched by Boпndil, who sighed incredulously to communicate his opinion of washing and water in general. The secondling stared up at Djerun, who had taken his place on the floor while Andфkai stood at the window and drew the rudimentary curtains. She had taken off her cloak. "Well, long-un," he said to the giant, "you and I are both dying to slay a dozen runts, but don't forget: If we come across a pack of them, the first ten belong to me."
Djerun maintained his customary silence.
Boпndil shrugged, went to the window, and climbed out onto the roof. He soon spotted Goпmgar. "You should see this," he called out to the others. "The artisan is marching up and down the street."
"Tell him to come back in," said Tungdil, who was poring over the map. The city walls did nothing to assure him of their safety. We've had proof enough that the дlfar can slip past sentries with ease. If their enemies had spies anywhere near the city, they would know by now that the odd-looking group had found its way to Roodacre. They'll come for us and they won't give in until they've seen their mission through.
"He says he won't," Boпndil bellowed through the window.
"Pretend you've seen an дlf," suggested Bavragor, offering a morsel of genuine dwarven cheese to Balyndis. "That should do the trick." Andфkai wrinkled her nose in disgust at the smell, but said nothing.
Sure enough, a few moments later they heard the rush of footsteps on the stairs; then the artisan burst into the dormitory, banging the door behind him and dropping the heavy oak panel into the latch.
Boпndil abandoned his post and climbed back inside, his chain mail clinking softly. "You were lucky," he said gravely. He curled his long plait into a pillow and lay down. "The дlf was right behind you."
Goпmgar turned a deathly shade of pale.
VI
Roodacre, Kingdom of Tabaоn, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle Tungdil was woken by the sound of scraping metal. He opened his eyes.
Djerun had got to his feet and drawn his mighty sword. He was holding the weapon outstretched in his right hand, blade angled toward the door. Andфkai, still in bed, was wide-awake too. She signaled to Tungdil, instructing him to keep quiet and lie still.
They watched as a thin strip of wood slipped through the doorframe and rose toward the latch, pushing the oak beam noiselessly out of the catch. Little by little the door came open. Faint light sloped into the dormitory from the corridor, illuminating the outline of a stocky figure.
The intruder was roughly the size of a dwarf. He was wearing a helmet and, judging from his silhouette, was blessed with an exceptionally bushy beard. In his left hand he was clutching a sack. The sight of Djerun stopped him in his tracks. Andфkai gave the command.
The giant shot forward to seize the intruder, but his phenomenal speed was not enough. Ducking away, the little fellow surprised them all by darting in instead of out.
"Stop right there!" Tungdil sprang out of bed and barred his path. He made to grab him, but the dwarf proved astonishingly agile, leaving the startled Tungdil with a clump of whiskers in his hand.
The intruder leaped nimbly onto the windowsill, hurled his sack at his pursuers, and fled across the roof. The bag smacked Tungdil in the chest, spilling its contents across the roughly hewn tiles.
The clattering and jangling woke the others. Boпndil was up like a shot, running around the room, brandishing his axes and bellowing for the orcs to fight him if they dared. The rest of the company reached for their weapons.
Balyndis, dressed only in her undergarments, had taken up position on her bed and was gripping her ax with both hands. A shaft of moonlight slanted through the curtains, exposing her curves. It occurred to Tungdil that she probably didn't realize how much she was revealing, but he couldn't bring himself to look away.
"Where did they go?" demanded Boпndil, spoiling for a fight.
"We had an uninvited guest," said Andфkai, leaning out of the window to see where the fellow had got to. "A dwarf. There must have been something funny about him because he didn't respond to my spell. And now he's gone."
"Gold," exclaimed Tungdil in surprise, finally noticing the shiny coins on the floor. He bent down and scooped them up. Some of them were stuck together and left damp traces on his hands.
"And a dagger," observed Goпmgar, who was cowering in a corner.
Boпndil picked it up and eyed it carefully. "Forged on a dwarven anvil," he said slowly, handing it to Balyndis. "You're the expert. What do you reckon?"
Booted feet thundered up the stairs and across the landing to their room. The next moment, armored guards burst inside, halberds pointing menacingly toward them.
"Light, I need more light!" shouted someone, and in an instant lamps were passed forward and more guards thronged inside.
The coins and the knife! Tungdil was about to throw the gold out of the window and tell Boпndil to put away the dagger, but already the room was bathed in light, revealing telltale red smudges on his fingers: The coins and the dagger were covered in blood.
"By Palandiell," exclaimed the captain of the guards, a strong man of some forty cycles with a small scar on the left side of his face. "I've never seen such brazen criminals. Just look at the ruffians! Sitting here calmly, dividing their loot." His eyes shifted to the dagger in Boпndil's hand. "He's even holding the murder weapon!" He waved his men forward. "Arrest the lot of them, the men as well as the little fellows. We'll soon find out which of them were embroiled in this dastardly business."
"What business would that be, oh worthy guardian of our municipal safety?" inquired Rodario in his most amiable and gracious tone. He could easily have been inquiring about the weather. He adjusted his undergarments with aristocratic elegance. "Perhaps you would care to enlighten us?"
"Sir Darolan was murdered at knifepoint not three streets from here." He glared at Boпndil. "The game's up. You were seen and followed." He turned to one of his men. "There's a whole band of them. Professionals, I'll warrant."
"I'm afraid there's been a terrible misunderstanding," chimed in Tungdil. He outlined what had happened before the arrival of the guards, holding up the lock of beard as evidence. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a snippet of fleece.
The captain laughed in his face. "A likely story, groundling. I've never heard such nonsense."
"I know it sounds strange, but-"
"Strange? It's preposterous! I'm arresting you and your accomplices in the name of King Nate. One of you will sign a confession soon enough. We've solved every murder in this city by putting the suspects on the rack."
"As I was saying," Rodario resum
ed smoothly, "the dwarves are nothing to do with us." He winked furtively at Tungdil. "In fact, my companions and I were accompanying the lady when-"
"Save your stories for the interrogator," the captain interrupted him harshly. Just then his dour face brightened and he looked at them with sudden kindness. "Although, I must say, the evidence in your favor is quite compelling…" He took the strand of fake beard from Tungdil and gestured to the door. "We've been wasting our time," he told his guards. "The real murderer led us here on false pretenses. We need to get after him before the trail goes cold."
"But, Captain!" one of his subordinates protested vigorously. "We saw the dwarf run into the tavern-"
"Get a move on," the captain ordered. "Outside on the double! We'll never find him at this rate." Realizing that he was not to be dissuaded, the baffled guardsmen followed his instructions and exited the room. Soon afterward their clunking armor could be heard through the open window.
"That was close. Thank goodness he changed his mind." Rodario breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Can we go to bed now?"
Andфkai was already packing her things. "He'll come to his senses before too long. The sooner we leave, the better. The spell won't last forever."
"What do you mean, come to his senses? He's always like that," objected Boпndil, scratching his beard in confusion.
"She means the captain, not Rodario," explained Tungdil with a grin. It dawned on him why no one ever challenged Djerun; the maga could obviously control people's thoughts. "She put a spell on him. Why else would he let us go?" He stared pensively at a tuft of fleece that had stuck to his fingers. The whole thing was a setup and it almost succeeded. "Someone was trying to get us into trouble."
"And it nearly worked! The villain disguised himself as a dwarf," said Boпndil, scandalized. He started to pack. "Just wait until I get my hands on him. He'll wish he'd never been born."
"Children can't move that fast," mused Balyndis, gathering her things. "It must have been a gnome or a kobold or…"
Tungdil raised his hands to his head in sudden understanding. "Of course! Bislipur's gnome!" They hurried out of the room and down the stairs. "Sverd must have followed us and waited for the opportunity to land us in real trouble. Bislipur's behind it all!"
"You can't fault the gnome's persistence," said Bavragor admiringly, tugging on the straps of his pack. "To think he followed us all this way."
"It would have been easy enough to track us," argued Boпndil. He peered into the front room of the tavern before waving the others on.
"Not necessarily," countered Balyndis, impressed by Sverd's tenacity. "He must have snuck into the firstling kingdom and found his way into the tunnels. That takes some doing."
"Remember the buckle we found in the runaway wagon?" Tungdil tiptoed to the door and scanned the street. "I knew I recognized it from somewhere." He slipped out of the tavern with Boпndil at his side. "We're safe," he said. "They're searching another street."
"You mustn't run," Boпndil told Goпmgar. "Running in the middle of the night only attracts attention. They'll assume you're a criminal."
The travelers proceeded at a leisurely pace, chatting and smiling as if they were out for a nighttime stroll. Nothing in their behavior suggested they were engaged in illicit activity or fleeing a murder scene. Djerun stayed in the shadows, trying to keep a low profile.
Before they could reach the gates, a group of guards approached on a routine patrol.
"Remember, Goпmgar: Just stay calm," whispered Boпndil.
"Shush," hissed Balyndis with one eye on the trembling artisan. "You're only making things worse!"
The guards were getting closer and had almost drawn level when a thin voice piped up. "Arrest the villains! Those are the culprits! Arrest them, guards! They're getting away!"
"That blasted gnome. I'll wring his scrawny neck," growled Ireheart, whipping out his axes to defend himself. The bewildered guardsmen looked to their leader for direction.
Just then the captain of the first patrol burst onto the street, shouting orders for their arrest. Candles blazed in the windows, shutters were opened, and the city awoke from its slumber.
"We don't have time for explanations," said Andфkai, drawing her sword. "They won't believe us and we'll rot in their dungeons."
"So what do we do?" demanded Bavragor, gripping the haft of his hammer, ready to fight his way out of the gates.
"It's probably best if I slip away now," said Rodario, shouldering his precious bag of costumes and hastily taking his leave. "I'll see you outside the city. I don't want to get in your way." He hurried into a side street before the guards could surround them.
"Never trust an actor." Narmora grinned and pulled out her weapons.
Tungdil held up his ax, poll first. "Don't kill unless you have to," he instructed them. "We're leaving Roodacre-whether they like it or not."
Tungdil couldn't help noticing that their opponents were woefully underprepared. More accustomed to chasing purse snatchers and incarcerating drunks, the guards had little experience with combat and stood no chance of restraining four staunch dwarves, a maga, a half дlf, and a giant.
Furgas wasn't much of a warrior, but he held his ground valiantly and cleared enough space for Narmora to swing her weapons unimpeded. Goпmgar was tasked with guarding the rest of the ingots.
After the shortest of skirmishes, they hurried to the gates, where Rodario was conversing with a guard. The whole company descended on the distracted sentry before he could sound the alarm. When he eventually noticed the maga, it was already too late.
"You will let us through," she intoned. "You will let us through and tell no one that we passed this way." Even as she spoke, the sentry's eyes glazed over and he raised the portcullis without a word.
"Didn't I do well?" the impresario said to Andфkai. "I bewitched his senses with my silvery speech, thus enabling the Estimable Maga to cast her spell. Magic certainly has its uses. I don't suppose you'd consider a spot of backstage conjuring? Together we could put on a spectacle of such-"
Furgas shook his head despairingly. "For pity's sake, Rodario!"
"There's no harm in asking. We need to earn a living somehow when our amazing adventure is at an end."
Bavragor laughed. "Assuming you survive that long."
Buffeted by the wind, the rising portcullis made enough of a racket to wake the other sentries, whom Boпndil attacked with enthusiasm. He stuck to using his poll as instructed, but Tungdil detected the sound of splintering bone.
He's desperate to finish them off. He looked in consternation at the bloodied and oddly misshapen face of a sentry. The man keeled over as Ireheart landed a follow-up blow. With at least one dead, the company would be wanted for multiple murder as well as theft.
Meanwhile, the portcullis was still rising slowly, but Sverd had followed them and was hiding in an alleyway, preparing to alert the guards a second time. "They're escaping! The murderers are escaping through the gates!"
Even the last determined sleepers in the city were torn from their slumber by his shouts. Everyone with two legs and a weapon found their way onto the street, including the first courageous members of the militia, who came running out of their houses, having barely stopped to dress.
"Do something, Andфkai," shouted Tungdil, terrified of what would happen to the citizens of Roodacre if the battle-crazed Boпndil was to rampage through the city. "We won't be able to hold them off."
This time she didn't turn to sorcery. "Djerun," she barked, and issued an unintelligible order.
The giant stepped forward. The torches of the assembled crowd bathed his armor in flickering light, bringing the threatening visor to life. At that moment the helmet produced a noise unlike anything Tungdil had heard in his life. It was a cross between a reptilian hiss and the dull, ponderous rumble of an earthquake, a sound so full of aggression and menace that anyone in earshot knew instantly not to approach. Tungdil felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He took a nervous step back.
<
br /> Inside the helmet, the violet glow intensified, streaming out of the eyeholes and outshining the torches. The horrified faces of the transfixed crowd were steeped in a purple light that was painful to behold.
The second roar was even louder and more terrifying than the first. This time everyone, including the guardsmen, turned in panic and fled, running back through the streets and alley-ways to safety.
The portcullis was almost fully raised. "Let's g-go," stuttered Tungdil, still shaken by the sound of Djerun's voice. Assuming it was his voice…
They ran into the night, glancing over their shoulders as they hurried down the snowy road. No one followed. The giant's performance had made enough of an impression to dissuade the townspeople from hunting them down.
As for Tungdil, he was more curious than ever about the armored warrior, although he suspected the truth would be less than reassuring. It's not a human, at any rate, he decided.
The company jogged in silence through the snow. After a while, Bavragor, who had fallen in line behind Goпmgar, pointed to the artisan's back. "Where are the ingots?" he panted breathlessly, listening in vain for a response. "Hey, I asked you a question!"
Goпmgar sped up, intent on getting far enough ahead before he dared to answer. "I lost them," he said plaintively. "A guardsman knocked the bag from my hand and I couldn't reach it in the scrum. I'm sorry, I honestly didn't mean to-"
"Didn't mean to…? I'll give you didn't-mean to, you worthless little-" Bavragor lunged at him but was rest rained by Tungdil from behind.
"It's all right, Bavragor."
The mason was beside himself. His chestnut eye glinted angrily. "All right? We've lost every single one of the ingots! We can't exactly fetch them now!"
"We'll be in the fifthling kingdom before you know it; we're bound to find something there," said Tungdil in a firm, confident voice that reminded everyone that he was the leader. To his mind, the matter was closed.
"But you said we shouldn't rely on finding materials on the way," Bavragor objected stubbornly. "So why-"
