It was vaguely round, of a woodish texture, and when struck made a noise like a ruler plucked over the edge of a desk.
Sergeant Colon tapped it again.
'I give in,' he said.
Carrot proudly lifted it out of the battered packaging.
'It's a cake,' he said, shoving both hands under the thing and raising it with some difficulty. 'From my mother.' He managed to put it on the table without trapping his fingers.
'Can you eat it?' said Nobby. 'It's taken months to get here. You'd think it would go stale.'
'Oh, it's to a special dwarfish recipe,' said Carrot. 'Dwarfish cakes don't go stale.'
Sergeant Colon gave it another sharp rap. 'I suppose not,' he conceded.
'It's incredibly sustaining,' said Carrot. 'Practically magical. The secret has been handed down from dwarf to dwarf for centuries. One tiny piece of this and you won't want anything to eat all day.'
'Get away?' said Colon.
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