fearsome weapon.
But there’s always a ballista for every dragon. One of the stonemasons crept up on Arnkh from behind and smashed him over the head with a bottle that shattered into smithereens. Arnkh swayed on his feet and the stonemason, encouraged by his initial success, swung back his fist with the broken bottle.
Kli-Kli darted out from under the table and kicked the enemy on the knee with all his might. The stonemason dropped his weapon, cursed wildly, and tried to grab Kli-Kli by the scruff of the neck, but the nimble goblin slipped between the man’s legs and gave the stonemason a hefty kick up the backside.
I added my own modest contribution with a sweet punch to his stomach. The enemy doubled over and Kli-Kli promptly repeated his blow to the fifth point, while I chopped him in the throat with the side of my hand. The lad rolled his eyes up resentfully and collapsed on the floor.
“Are you all right?” I asked Arnkh, holding him by the shoulder just to be on the safe side.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Who did that to me?”
“There he is!” said Kli-Kli, pointing to the man lying on the floor.
“Give him a kick for me, please,” said Arnkh, wincing, and Kli-Kli promptly did just as his comrade asked.
“It’s getting too hot around here. Time to be leaving,” said Lamplighter. He had a huge black eye.
“Screw that!” Deler panted as he fought off two Doralissians at the same time with a chair. “The real fun’s only just beginning! Are you just going to watch or is someone going to help me with these goats?”
“You’ll pay-ay for calling us goa-oats!” one of the Doralissians bleated, bringing his fist down on the short dwarf’s head.
Deler skipped aside, smashed the chair into the ribs of the Doralissian who was trying to hit him, and jumped back out of the way, yielding his position to the “heavy cavalry” in the form of five bellicose chasseurs. The lads in red and white hung on the Doralissians’ shoulders like bunches of grapes and set about pummeling their faces with military thoroughness.
A free space had opened up around Eel—no one else wanted to risk going up against the Garrakian. Maybe I just imagined it, but the warrior seemed a bit upset by this turn of events. He’d only just got into the swing of things!
“Can you stand?” I asked Arnkh, lowering him carefully onto the only surviving stool.
“Don’t worry about me! I’m not a porcelain plate,” he hissed, and frowned as he touched the lump on the back of his head.
“Those students are lively lads!” Marmot exclaimed. He had finally finished pounding his fist into the face of the largest stonemason and now he was observing the rough-and-tumble in the next corner of the tavern with academic interest.
The students had approached the fight in typically inventive, daredevil fashion. By turning over several tables, they had constructed an improvised barricade and then laid down what the gnomes call covering artillery fire, using beer mugs. After that they launched themselves, roaring in unison, against the Heartless Chasseurs and their sympathizers.
One of the fallen tried to crawl to the door and slip away. But he was too late. The door came flying off its hinges, and the guards appeared in the tavern.
“Nobody move! You’re all under arrest!” one of the soldiers shouted, but he immediately took a beer mug to the helmet and slumped to his knees.
The guards were offended at not being taken seriously, and a stonemason who was about to launch a bottle in their direction fell with a crossbow bolt in his leg.
“Let’s scram!” shouted one of the students.
The most quick-witted individuals started leaving the Sundrop via the broken windows.
After a brief moment’s thought, Marmot dragged a frightened serving wench out from under the bar.
“Where’s the back entrance?” he asked.
“That way!” the girl said, nodding toward the kitchen.
“Let’s clear out, lads!” Marmot called as he dashed in the direction indicated.
Moving in close formation, our entire group followed his example. In the course of the tactical withdrawal Lamplighter and Deler took the opportunity to batter the face of the last Doralissian still on his feet.
“By the hundred sublunary kings!” Deler exclaimed, slapping himself on the forehead. “We’ve forgotten Hallas, burn his rotten beard!”
The tavern was already crammed with so many guards that they outnumbered the brawlers, and Hallas had to be dragged out from under the very feet of servants of the law.
The gnome had more or less snapped out of it and he started hobbling toward the back entrance, supported by Deler and Mumr. We slipped through the kitchen, frightening the cook on the way, and out into a dark back alley. Deler sang the dwarves’ military march and Kli-Kli backed him up in a shrill little voice. Lamplighter grunted contentedly. The lads had really enjoyed the little set-to.
We must have been sitting there with our beer for quite a long time, because it was dark outside. Once out in the alley, we started scuttling away from the tavern, but then Hallas stopped dead in his tracks and yelled: “My sack!”
Shoving aside anyone who tried to stop him, the gnome went dashing back to the tavern.
“What an idiot!” Marmot hissed.
“He’ll get into trouble! As sure as eggs he will,” said Deler, preparing to rush after his friend.
“You stay where you are!” Eel snapped. “I’m not going to drag two of you out of the slammer.”
Deler muttered an obscenity through his teeth. But he stayed where he was, staring impatiently at the bright rectangle of the open door. That minute seemed like an eternity.…
Eventually Hallas appeared, carrying his beloved sack.
“It’s a pity that goat didn’t smash your stupid head in!” Deler exclaimed, but there was a note of relief in his voice.
“Let’s go,” Eel said tersely, assuming command of our small unit.
“Marmot, you didn’t forget your mouse in the tavern, did you?” Kli-Kli asked in alarm.
“I’ll forget you before I forget Invincible,” Marmot growled.
“Oo-oo-oh, you’re mean,” said the goblin, offended. “And it’s been a bad day today all round!”
“And why’s that?” Arnkh asked in surprise. “By definition you don’t have any bad days.”
“Well, think about it,” said Kli-Kli, trying to match Arnkh’s stride. “We wandered into the city and spent the whole day staggering around, Hallas still didn’t get his tooth pulled out, and tomorrow we have to move on.”
“Absolute disaster!” Marmot said.
“Hey,” Hallas sighed in distress. “I forgot something.”
“What else have you forgotten now?” Mumr asked in annoyance. “You’ve got your sack.”
“I forgot my pipe! My pipe! It must have fallen out of my mouth when that damned goat poked me in the face!”
“Why, that’s excellent,” said Deler, who couldn’t stand tobacco smoke. “Now you can take a break from smoking.”
“It’s a briar pipe,” Hallas exclaimed, continuing his lament. “A family relic! Maybe I should go back for it?”
“Just you try it. Then you can sort things out with Uncle yourself,” Eel warned the gnome.
“All right,” said Hallas, spitting on the ground. “I’ve got a spare in my saddlebag.”
“How’s your tooth?” I asked the gnome. Hallas hadn’t done any howling for a suspiciously long time.
“It’s gone, Sagra be praised!”
“What?”
“That goat thumped me so hard he knocked the rotten thing out!”
“There now, Hallas.” Deler laughed. “See what a noble barber you found for yourself. Thick-headed, with horns and a little beard, too! Why, just like you!”
The dark alley rang to loud roars of laughter, and Hallas laughed along with everyone else.
Three times guards who had been put on the alert went running past and we had to hide in the shadows of the buildings. Eel decided not to take any risks, and we took a long detour to avoid running into the guardians of public order, who were as ornery as wasps in early autumn. Eventually we came out onto the street leading to the Learned Owl.
