“Now listen good. Your Pap had something that I want, and I’m not leaving here until I get it. That doesn’t have to take such a long time. Or it might last until tomorrow. That’s up to you.”
“Pap had somethin’ of yours?” snapped the bearded gnome. Abruptly, he sniffled. “Hah! Pap was no thief, and I never laid eyes on you before. How could he have something of yours?”
“Look, let’s be reasonable about this,” Dram said in a bluff attempt at friendliness. “What’s your name? The short version?”
“Pap himself named me,” said the little fellow sentimentally. “He called me Carbonfoundationremnantbasicintermixturefour partstoseven-”
“No, the short version of your name!” spluttered the dwarf.
“That is the short version. The first part of it anyway. You can call me Carbo.”
“All right. Carbo.” Dram turned to the female, his beard splitting into a grimace which he intended as a friendly smile. “And who are you?”
“I’m… well, you can call me Sulfie.”
“All right, Carbo. Sulfie. I’m sorry about your Pap. Let’s start with what happened to him. Tell us.”
“Well, it wasn’t just him. It happened to most all of Dungarden. We were just lucky that day-Pap sent us out to chop stones. Us and our brother, Salty Pete. He was working on the compound.”
“Who? Pap, or Salty Pete?”
“Pap! It was Pap’s compound! Usually we helped him, but that day he sent us out to chop on the coal vein. Said he needed more black rocks, even though the hopper was still half-full. So we were gone when it happened.”
“When what happened?” pressed Dram.
“Something killed your Pap?” Jaymes tried to sound sympathetic.
“Something sure did,” Carbo acknowledged. “Anyway, Dungarden was gone, and so were all the gnomes.”
“Except for us, and a couple of others who were down by the fishing nets.”
“All gone!” said Sulfie, still fighting tears.
“Destroyed, you mean? asked Jaymes, a glimmer in his eyes.
“Completely gone,” said Carbo sadly. “We heard it-like one big clap of thunder, and a huge cloud of smoke flew up into the sky. Rocks flew for a mile around the big hole in the ground. Everyone in Dungarden was dead. There was just nothing left.”
“So you came here, to Caergoth?” Dram coaxed. “How long ago was this?”
“We-the Heirs of the Compound-came here three summers ago. We are just starting to make some progress recovering our Pap’s work. Now, if you will be on your way, we can get back on the job!”
“Not so fast,” said Jaymes. “What of this brother you mentioned-this Salty Pete? Did he come to Caergoth too?”
The two gnomes exchanged a furtive glance. “No,” Carbo replied after a long pause. “Poor Pete. He didn’t make it. Got killed by dracos in the Brackens.”
“Why did the dracos kill Pete?” asked Dram, as gently as he could manage. “Tell us.”
“We got attacked by these big dracos. They spit acid, killed two oxes, and carried Pete off into the swamp called the Brackens. We got away with one wagon. Dracos got the other one and Pete.”
“The Brackens? Where’s that?” asked the dwarf.
“I know,” Jaymes replied. “It’s a swamp, where the Upper Vingaard River meets the Kaolyn River. Nasty place.”
“Yup,” said Carbo. “Real nasty.”
“Hmm. So your Pap and Salty Pete are dead. What about your Pap’s work? What did you bring with you from Dungarden?” Jaymes probed.
“One wagon, the one the dracos didn’t get,” said Sulfie. “One of the two we rode out of the mountains.”
“Picks and a scoop shovel,” added Carbo, fidgeting. “Now you can go away, right?” His eyes, as if against his will, flickered anxiously toward one of the far counters.
Jaymes followed the look. “That little keg-did you bring that from Dungarden?” He rose and started across the room.
A loud knock on the door interrupted them. The warrior turned while Dram fingered his axe nervously, and the bearded gnome, with a snort of exasperation, stomped over to fling it open.
“What?” he demanded, before adding “Go away!” The gnome slammed the door shut, but a diminutive, rotund figure had already somehow slipped past Carbo to enter the room.
“You!” the new arrival said, pointing a filthy finger at Jaymes. It was an unfamiliar gully dwarf, cloaked in an even heavier-and more aromatic-layer of the scum that was the usual final layer of any Aghar’s outfit. “You killed Highbulp!”
The gnomes stepped back in fear as the warrior’s eyes narrowed and the dwarf stepped forward indignantly. “That’s a lie!” Dram growled. “The great Highbulp was alive when we left him a half hour ago-he was going to have a drunk, I mean a drink, somewhere.”
“He dead now,” said the Aghar matter-of-factly.
“What! How did he die?” Jaymes asked. The gully dwarf’s eyes widened, and he stepped closer to the gnomes, who were muttering anxiously to each other.
“Knight kill him. Cut him with big sword. Alla his blood come out.”
“Then why did you say that my friend killed him?” demanded Dram.
“Knight was hunting human fighter-him with big sword!” The Aghar waved his finger accusingly at Jaymes.
“How do you know all this?” asked the man.
“Me watching from shadows. Gonna come to rescue when I hear him make Highbulp say ‘Firesplasher Lane!’ Same thing you ask Highbulp. Knight cut Highbulp then. Go tell more knights.”
The dwarf and the warrior exchanged a glance. Jaymes crossed to the workbench in two long strides, snatching up the keg, shaking it once, checking to see that the stopper was securely fixed. It vanished under his cloak. The gnomes squawked in protest, but just then a violent crash rang outside, followed by shouting voices-a man’s voice barking orders mingled with the higher-pitched sounds of protesting gnomes.
Dram stepped to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out.
“He’s not at Number Two-but he’s on this street somewhere. Take every door!” they heard.
The dwarf stepped back, closing the front door and dropping a heavy iron bar into place. Jaymes, meanwhile, fixed his eyes upon the only other door, a small hatch-like cover low in the rear wall. “Does that lead outside?” he asked the terrified Sulfie.
“After a while it does,” she admitted.
“Come on.” Jaymes took the squirming gnome by her wrist. Dram grabbed Carbo. The man lifted the hatch, tossed Sulfie through, held it open for the dwarf and the male gnome, then ducked through himself. “Hey, me too!” cried the gully dwarf, just before Dram slammed the hatch, leaving him behind.
They found themselves in the main room of another gnomish domicile, not quite as crowded and cluttered as Carbo’s house. With a nod to her neighbors-a half-dozen gnomes regarding them with goggle-eyed stares-Sulfie led them down a narrow hallway where Jaymes, even though he was stooping, knocked his head against a low ceiling arch. They emerged at last into the street.
Many gnomes milled about, but no knights were in sight. Castle Caergoth rose from its commanding height, and the dwarf led them away from the fortress, at a fast trot.
They hadn’t even reached the first intersection when a squad of knights, all wearing the tunic emblazoned with the Crown, charged into sight. The leader, a big man with the golden epaulets of a sergeant, spotted Jaymes, who was head and shoulders taller than anyone else on the street.
“There!” cried the knight. “Stop him-Jak, go tell Captain Dayr! We’ve got him cornered now.” Four knights advanced, shoulder to shoulder, blocking any escape. Doors slammed shut all up and down the block. Sulfie and Carbo tried to make a dash for the nearest houses but were held firm by the dwarf and the warrior.
“You two are coming with us,” Dram growled. The dwarf offered his companion a questioning look. “That is, if we’re going anywhere.”
“Step back,” snapped the warrior. He reached over his shoulder, drew the great sword in a single, smooth
