off his feet. The goblin only just managed to jump out of the way. Deler came flying out after Hallas. The color of the gnome’s face would have put any beetroot to shame.
“What’s happened?” I asked.
“That…!” the gnome roared so loudly that everyone in the market could hear him and pointed back at the door of the shop.
“Shut up!” Deler hissed, pulling his hat down over his eyes.
“I told you, shut up! Let’s get out of here!”
“But what’s happened?” I asked again.
“That cretin who slept with a donkey wants money!” the gnome roared.
“Errr…,” said Eel, who didn’t understand a thing, either. “It’s quite usual to pay a barber money, isn’t it?”
“But not three gold pieces! Have you ever heard of anyone taking three gold pieces for a rotten tooth?”
“No, I haven’t.”
I hadn’t, either. Three gold pieces was a lot of money. For that much you could get all the teeth of half the army of Valiostr pulled out.
“Let’s go, Hallas!” Deler persisted.
“Hey, you! You damned swindler! Come out here! I’ll break all your teeth out for a copper! And I’ll wring your neck for free!”
“Hallas, shut up and let’s get going!” the dwarf yelled, unable to control himself any longer.
“Eel, stop both their mouths, before the guard arrives!” I whispered to the Garrakian when I saw a crowd of idle onlookers starting to gather round us.
The barber made the mistake of looking out of his shop.
“I do beg your pardon,” he babbled, “but I extract teeth using spells bought in a magic shop. The procedure is absolutely painless, that’s why my price is so high.”
“Hold me back,” Hallas told us, and went dashing at the barber with his fists held high.
The barber gave a shrill squeal and slammed the door in the furious gnome’s face. Deler hung on his comrade’s shoulders and Eel jumped in front of the gnome, who was charging like a rhinoceros. I pretended that I wasn’t with them at all, but simply standing there taking a breath of fresh air.
Some public-spirited individual had called the guards, and about ten armed men were already making their way through the crowd in our direction. They hadn’t wasted any time. The Ranneng guard were obviously far more conscientious about their work than the guard in Avendoom. No doubt the frequent clashes between Wild Boars, Nightingales, and Oburs kept the servants of the flexible and corrupt law in a state of constant battle readiness.
We didn’t have time to slip away.
“Problems?” the sergeant of the guard asked me.
“Problems? No, not at all. No problems,” I answered hastily, just hoping that Deler would somehow manage to stop the gnome’s mouth.
“No fairy tales, if you don’t mind!” the soldier said harshly. “Tell me why that half-pint is yelling like that.”
“He’s having a bad day.”
“And that’s why he feels like slugging a respectable barber, is it?” another guardsman chuckled. “A deliberate breach of public order and incitement to affray. Are you going to come quietly or…?”
It doesn’t matter where the guards are from—spend a bit of time in any city and you get to know all there is to know about their kind. Even a Doralissian could tell what it was the lads wanted from us.
“We’re not going anywhere, dear sirs,” said Eel, coming to my assistance and leaving Deler and Kli-Kli to take care of Hallas.
There was something in the Garrakian’s eyes that made the guardsmen take a step back. A wolf facing a pack of yard dogs, that was the thought that came to my mind when Eel blocked their way.
They had the advantage of numbers and—even more important—they had their halberds against our daggers. A very powerful argument in a fight, it must be said. But it was clear that they were still having doubts.
“Oh yes you are, dear sir,” the bold sergeant hissed through his teeth, adjusting his grip on his halberd. “This isn’t your Garrak; we observe the law here!”
Eel’s lips trembled into a barely visible smile.
“If the law was observed in my country the way it is here, there’d be more criminals in Garrak than there are bribe-takers in the guard.”
“Just what are you hinting at?” asked the sergeant, narrowing his eyes malevolently.
Eel gave another faint smile and swayed back thoughtfully on his heels. His hands dropped to the hilts of a pair of Garrakian daggers.
The gesture didn’t pass unnoticed by the soldiers and they all took another step back, as if on command. Hallas had finally shut up, and now he was staring around in amazement at the guards and the crowd watching us, unable to believe that his quarrelsome nature could have attracted so many people.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” said a man who suddenly emerged from the crowd and walked up to the guards. “These are my friends. They’re not from these parts, and they haven’t had time yet to get used to the laws of our glorious Ranneng!”
A sharp nose, blue eyes, light brown hair, about my own age. He had an open, slightly roguish smile and was dressed like a prosperous townsman—probably that was why the sergeant answered him instead of sending him packing.
“They’re disturbing the peace and insulting the keepers of public order,” said the sergeant, with a hostile glance at the Garrakian.
“Of course, of course,” the man whispered sympathetically, carefully taking the sergeant by the elbow and leading him off to one side. “But you understand, they’re from the country, and my friends were never taught good manners. This is their first time in the city. And that thin one over there is my aunt’s nephew, so he’s a relative of mine,” the man said, jabbing his finger in my direction.
“What’s that goon doing?” Hallas asked in amazement.
“Dragging us out of the shithole that you dug for us,” Deler explained to the gnome.
Hallas had enough wits not to start another argument.
“I was supposed to make sure they didn’t get into any trouble,” the man explained to the soldier. “Put yourself in my place, sergeant! If anything happens my aunt will tear my head off and she won’t let me back into the house!”
A silver coin passed from the stranger’s hand into the hand of the commander of the guard.
“Well…,” the sergeant said hesitantly. “We still have to perform our duty and carry out our responsibilities.”
Another coin changed owners.
“Although,” said the guardsman, starting to soften a bit, “following a brief reprimand I could quite well release your … mmm … respected relatives.”
A third silver piece disappeared into his grasping fingers.
“Yes!” said the sergeant with a resolute nod. “I think the Ranneng guard can find more important business to deal with than punishing innocent passersby who haven’t quite settled into the city yet. All the best to you, dear sir!”
“All the best.”
“Let’s go, lads,” the sergeant said to his soldiers, and the guard immediately lost all interest in us and disappeared into the crowd.
The idle onlookers realized that the show was over and busied themselves with other matters. The market started buzzing again and no one paid any more attention to us.
The man came up to us, smiled, looked into my eyes, and said: “Hello, Harold!”
The only thing I could do was reply: “Hello, Bass.”
