The sight really was an amazing one for them. It’s not every century that you come across an entire platoon of strangers from different races, all armed to the teeth, in the heart of a wasteland so far away from the nearest inhabited village that not even every shepherd would risk going into it.
Kli-Kli couldn’t resist the temptation, and he stuck his tongue out at the young herdsman, frightening the boy half to death. It was obviously the first time the village lad had ever seen a goblin.
“Well now, Kli-Kli,” said Eel, opening his mouth for the first time that day, “now there’ll be talk all winter long. The boy will tell everyone he saw a live ogre.”
“Who’s an ogre?” the goblin said resentfully. “Me? Ogres roar like this!”
The goblin set up a miserable howling, frightening not only the little herdsman and the dogs, who began barking again, but also half the horses of our group.
“Quiet down, Kli-Kli!” Marmot said irritably. “You’ll spoil Invincible’s appetite for a whole month.”
“I was only showing how ogres roar,” the goblin explained.
“Ah, come on. You’re useless,” Deler grumbled. “That’s the way your dear departed granny roars, not a full- grown ogre. Show him, Mumr.”
Lamplighter, who was riding behind me, was only too delighted to do as the dwarf asked, and he produced a sound that almost made me fall off my horse. The herdsmen’s dogs started howling in fright behind our backs.
“Hey you lot!” Uncle shouted to our little group. “You dratted comedians! Stop frightening the crickets!”
“Oh, come on, Uncle,” Deler shouted. “There’s nothing else to do.”
The sergeant just flapped his hand at us and gave up.
For the rest of the day nothing important happened to our party.
Another two days of riding across the wasteland flew by. We were crossing a huge area at the heart of Valiostr that people had never got around to developing. The famous impenetrable forests were on our right.
“The day after tomorrow we ought to reach the highway,” Honeycomb said on the third day of the journey.
“Eh, the sooner the better. I want some beer.” Deler sighed. “I start to get vicious without my beer.”
The song of a lark trilled out in the sky.
“There’s going to be rain,” Tomcat said after a long silence.
Everyone looked round at the same time. There was a line of storm clouds expanding along the horizon: dark violet, with occasional patches of blue-black.
“Hoo-ray!” said Marmot. “The coolness we’ve all been waiting for is on its way.”
The ling on his shoulder livened up and twitched its pink nose excitedly. Obviously it could sense the approaching storm, too.
“I just hope we don’t get caught out,” Tomcat muttered, casting a concerned glance at the black line of cloud.
It had already swollen up, like a goatskin filled to overflowing with water, and seemed to have moved a bit closer. This was not just rain coming toward us, it was a genuine tempest.
No one heard what Tomcat had said. Well, almost no one.
Deler set his hat dashingly on the back of his head and started singing:
“Why so gloomy?” Kli-Kli asked after listening to the dwarf’s simple little song.
“That’s the way it ought to be,” Deler said solemnly. “That’s the war march of the dwarves.”
“It sounds better for marching to the chamber pot than against the enemy,” Hallas said scornfully.
“Some connoisseur of war marches you are!” Deler retorted. “You bearded midgets don’t even have any like that.”
“Shut up! Right now!” Tomcat growled.
The gnome and the dwarf stopped arguing and gaped at him in astonishment.
“Oh, come on, Tomcat,” Deler said, clearing his throat. “Nothing terrible’s going to happen. We’ve already made up, haven’t we, Hallas?”
Hallas nodded eagerly.
“It’s nothing to do with you!” the tracker exclaimed, stopping his horse and staring fixedly up at the sky. The
