Markus Heitz - The Fate of the Dwarves

Hargorin had sprung up to confront the actor. “You’re just desperate for a beating, aren’t you?” he yelled, waving his fists.

“Forgive me,” said Rodario nicely to the two ladies, then he shot out his foot, fished out the tip of the long beard in question, grabbed it with his right hand and yanked. His left arm flew up and his elbow crashed against the dwarf’s forehead, making him gasp.

Rodario slipped out of his seat without letting go of the beard, pulling Hargorin after him. He pushed his feet against the dwarf’s stomach and overturned him so that he landed on his back on the wooden floor.

The actor did a backwards somersault and ended up sitting on the dwarf’s barrel chest, still holding the beard, which he pulled sharply to one side. Once he had anchored it under his foot the dwarf was completely helpless.

Ireheart had been taken as much by surprise as all the others in the room.

From somewhere or other Rodario had pulled out a knife and was holding it at the dwarf’s exposed neck. “I think it’s a real shame that one is considered a true man only if one can either fight or go round grabbing all the women in sight,” he breathed, but his eyes were hard and were watching for any movement his opponent might attempt. “I’ve convinced you now, haven’t I, Hargorin Deathbringer?”

Mallenia’s picture of the helpless failed actor disappeared in a puff of smoke and Coira saw him in a totally new light. The women stared at him wondering how this change could have been so sudden. It could only have been that the previous incarnation had been a deceit.

Cool as a cucumber, Rodario let go of the beard, stood up and offered Hargorin his hand.

The thirdling got up without accepting any help. The shame had been too deeply felt and his beard had suffered, too.

Ireheart knew that the leader of the Black Squadron was never likely to forgive Rodario for this. Blood will be spilt.

“A charming interlude indeed,” commented Slin happily.

“Tell us how an actor learns to fight like that,” Tungdil challenged Rodario.

“And why you took so much trouble not to look like your forefather,” added Coira. “If I think of you with a beard and mustache you’re the spitting image of him.”

“That’s just what I said,” mumbled Ireheart. “As soon as I saw him clamber on board.”

Rodario returned to his seat and bowed to the ladies. “I must apologize to both of you, because I have been playing a part up till now. But now it is time to remove the veil from the secret of the unknown poet.”

“You? You say that was you?” Coira exclaimed, laughing in disbelief. She looked at him full of curiosity. “You’re having us on.”

“Impossible,” said Mallenia at once. “You…” She stopped, in confusion.

Rodario bowed as if facing an adoring audience of theatergoers. “But, yes, indeed, I am the unknown poet,” he answered. “Who would ever have suspected me-me who resembled fabulous forefather Rodario so little-of being the freedom-fighter and rabble-rouser, slayer of Lohasbranders and their orcs? Deception provides the best protection, as always.”

Ireheart could not stop himself looking across at Tungdil when he heard these words-and he noted a sly smile playing round his friend’s lips. Only coincidence , he fervently hoped.

Rodario stroked his prominent chin. “I noticed very soon how similar my looks were to those of my famous ancestor. On stage in Idoslane, Tabain and Gauragar I never wore make-up, but when the performances were over I would put on my disguise,” he laughed, sitting down. “I made myself act the fool and lost the competitions on purpose, wanting to make sure nobody credited me with any intelligence.”

Coira pictured him that night when they had met in the tower in Mifurdania. “I really did have you down as a clumsy loser and clown,” she said in surprise. “And I bet you do know how to ride?”

“Well, yes, I do, Your Majesty,” he replied. “It was a role I was playing. And of course I do know how to swim or I would never have survived the fall from the walls of the shaft.”

“A real hero,” said Mallenia with a grin. “There we were, thinking the poor man was needing help, when all along he’s a trained fighter. And a good one, at that, as I’ve just seen.”

Rodario winked at her. “Thank you… must I say ‘Your Highness’ to you?” She dismissed the thought with a gesture. “But that is only part of the truth. Because there is not just the one unknown poet.”

“What are you going on about?” Ireheart frowned. “You just told us…”

“There isn’t just the one .” Rodario raised his forefinger, smiling as he did so. “The competition in Mifurdania is a brilliant front for us all. The descendants of the Incredible Rodario have been working for freedom ever since the Dragon took over. Whether male or female, we have dedicated ourselves to the fight for liberty and have been working against the occupying powers wherever we go with our traveling theaters. We hang our poems on doors and walls and keep the thought of freedom alive in people’s hearts. We can travel everywhere in Lohasbrand’s conquered lands and we fight the Dragon with our own means.” He took a gulp of wine. “The competition serves the purpose of letting us exchange news, write new lines, make new plans. We are always ready to support the people against the vassals of the Scaly One as soon as the gods grant us an opportunity. We know their weaknesses, their habits, their secret camps-everything!” He lifted his glass in salute and toasted Tungdil. “Thanks to you, Tungdil Goldhand, the opportunity has now arrived. The gods have sent you to us.” He drank to Tungdil’s health and the assembled company joined in the toast.

Coira looked hard at him, eager questions on her lips. “Tell me: What really happened that evening at the tower?”

Rodario laughed. “We freed The Incomparable but we forgot to take his valuables with us. There were a few very rare pieces and I dared to return for them. When you found me I had already collected them. And I handed them back to The Incomparable Rodario in the alleyway without your seeing what I was up to.” He beamed at her and struck a pose.

“Just like the Incredible Rodario,” Ireheart acknowledged. “Add a little beard and I’d be convinced he had survived the last two hundred and fifty cycles, just like me.”

The queen nodded.

“The death of this friend pained me very much, but luckily it escaped your notice,” he went on. “I knew the cause would continue to exist. Today I can see the fight was worth it.”

“And why did you accompany Coira when she escaped?” Mallenia wanted to know. “Did I get that bit right?”

“Well, there was a sudden opportunity to get to know the maga slightly better and to find out whether or not she could be won over to our cause, namely to prepare for a rebellion. If I had got the impression that she was a devout little woman, I would have pushed off, sharpish.” Rodario bowed again. “But I quickly realized that you were anything but submissive. So I stayed and observed you and how you acted. Increasingly I realized that things would work out.” He looked at the Ido girl. “When you and the alf turned up, Mallenia, the scales fell from my eyes: Girdlegard was heading for freedom. Or for ruin. The first option I wanted to support; the second to prevent.”

“I see freedom coming,” replied Coira warmly. “Who would be able to resist this alliance of determined groups?”

He smiled at her.

Ireheart rubbed his hands in glee. “Excellent! We’ve got everything we need. If Rodario contacts his friends and Mallenia gets in touch with hers, the storm can break. So we can concentrate entirely on the south, now, Scholar, can’t we?”