Dan Parkinson - The Gates of Thorbardin

"Ill-gotten gains if ever I saw such," the dwarf rumbled. "But I've never been one not to pay a just debt."

"I never doubted it for a minute," Wingover assured him. "By the way, what's in the pack I brought you?"

"Money," Goldbuckle said, blandly.

"Money?"

"A year's accumulated proceeds from my ventures at Pax Tharkas. You'd be amazed at how difficult it is to make shipments of coin these days,

Wingover."

The human's mouth hung open in disbelief. 'You you had me set out through the wilderness with your year's fortune in a pack? Do you know how much I'd have charged you to take that responsibility? Even if I took it all?"

"Of course I know," the old dwarf said blandly. "It really was far cheaper to make a bet of it."

"You scoundrel! You… you…"

"Try, 'bedamned old thieving dwarf,' " the dwarf suggested. "Some good human swearing might make you feel better."

Wingover sputtered, steamed, and finally subsided. There was no way around it. He had been fairly and thoroughly swindled, and had gone along with it wholeheartedly.

Finally he sighed, retrieved his gambling winnings, and thrust them away in his tunic. "Well, at least it's over," he said. "I've had enough of that wilderness to last me for a time."

"About that," Goldbuckle said.

"What about it?"

"Well if you recall, I said I couldn't release you from your debt of service. The reason is, I have assigned your debt to a… ah, friend of mine."

"Assigned? To whom?"

"Her." Goldbuckle nodded, looking past the man.

Wingover turned, and his mouth fell open. A yard away, standing patiently, was as stunning a young dwarven girl as he had ever seen. Not much more than four feet tall, she had the wide, strong face of her kind, with large, wide-set eyes and a smallish, full-lipped mouth nicely set between a button nose and a stubborn little chin. And she wore a broadsword strapped to her back.

"This is Jilian," Goldbuckle said. "Jilian Firestoke. Don't bother trying to talk her out of what she has in mind. It can't be done."

"May the moons fall on me if ever do business with a dwarf again!"

Wingover bellowed as he strode along Barter's main pathway, causing heads to turn in curiosity. Many paused to stare after the tall, angry man who wore the boots and leathers of a ranger or barbarian, but whose sheathed sword and flinthide shield suggested a warrior… and at the striking young dwarven girl — hardly more than half his stature — who tagged after him, scampering to keep pace with his long strides. The sight, to most, was another entertainment in a village that offered many entertainments.

"How you feel about it doesn't matter," the dwarven girl shouted at the man's stiff back. 'You must take me to find Chane. Rogar Goldbuckle said you would."

"It's a fool's errand," Wingover snapped. "First he cheats me out of an honest fee, then he sends me on a fool's errand. May the curl-winds carry me away if ever I do business with a — "

"It shouldn't be a difficult trip," the girl puffed, wishing he would slow down. "At least, I don't imagine it is. I have a map, you know… of where Chane was last seen."

Wingover stopped abruptly and swung around, towering over her. 'You're crazy," he snorted. "One lone dwarf — and a girl one at that — out in that wilderness'! You wouldn't live an hour. Don't you know what's out there?"

"Not really. I've never been out of Thorbardin before. But how bad could it be? People do go there sometimes, don't they? Oh, look!"

"What?" He glanced around.

"There's a gnome! That is a gnome, isn't it? I've never seen a gnome before. They're very small, aren't they?"

"So it's a gnome," Wingover snapped. "The world is full of gnomes. Just like the world is full of elves, and this part of it is mostly full of dwarves… what do you mean, small? That gnome is nearly as tall as you are." He set off again, heading for the Inn of the Hying Pigs. "I'll tell you a few other things the world is full of, that aren't nearly so pleasant. Goblins, for one. And things worse than goblins, too. There are hobgoblins and trolls — "

"I have a sword," the girl pointed out, calmly.

"And ogres," he continued. "Thankfully not as many of those, but there are some. What you should do is go back home and — "

"Oh, look!" she said, interrupting, and pointed. "Look over there!"

Nearby, a dark bird had flapped from the sky, descending to light on the shoulder of a wizard. Now it was talking to him, its beak just at his ear but its voice clearly audible to those around… though it spoke a language few among them understood.

The wizard listened intently, then raised his staff and muttered something. Atop the staff a milky globe seemed to swirl with bright color, and a loud hum came from it. It sounded like bees. Abruptly there were other wizards hurrying toward him, pushing and bustling through the crowd.

As some of them reached him he said, 'The omen is confirmed. It was seen from the Tower of the Orders. Nuitari crossed the orbits of Solinari and

Lunitari. Both were edipsed, each in its turn."

The ensuing babble of excited discussion wasn't limited to the robed sorcerers, but spread rapidly through the crowd.

"What does that mean?" Jilian asked Wingover. "Are they talking about the moons? What did they do?"

"They eclipsed," the man said. He strode on toward the Inn of the Flying

Pigs… three long strides, then he tripped and sprawled full out on the ground. All around there were cheers and laughter. Wingover raised himself, shaking his head. Jilian stood over him, her sword in both hands.

He stared up at her. "Did you trip me?"

"I certainly did," she said, returning the sword to its sling.

He got to his knees and dusted himself off, glaring at her. With him on his knees, they were nearly face to face. "Why?"

The triumphant slight smile on Jilian's wide, pretty face was enough to bring choking sighs from a number of young male dwarves nearby. "Because you have been behaving rudely," she said. "And because if we are to have any sort of discussion, you shall have to slow down."

"There's nothing to discuss," he snapped. "I told you — "

"Well, you really have no choice, anyway. And the sooner you realize that, the happier we both will be."

Wingover muttered horrific curses in several languages, and got to his feet. "If you aren't the most obtuse button I ever — "

"Jilian," she said, coolly.

"What?"

"My name is Jilian. Not Button. But you don't need to apologize. You can call me anything you like, as long as you help me find Chane Feldstone like you promised."

"I didn't promise any such thing!"

"Thereyouare!" a voice behind Wingover said. The human turned as the gnome trotted forward, waving at him. "Thermodynamics,

Iheardyoubellowingfromclearacrossthesquare. Ijustwantedtotellyou,

I'llbereadywithinthehour."

Wingover stared down at the little creature, blankly. "It'sme," the gnome said. After noting the confused look on Wingover's face, he took a deep breath and spoke more slowly. "Bobbin. Oh, I know. Humans always say if you've seen one gnome you've seen them all. Somehow I thought you might be above that sort of thing. But it doesn't matter. A deal's a deal, right

All right. There is an open meadow just off there, beyond those huts. Meet me there. And bring your horse, of course. Don't worry about rope. I have some." With that, the gnome turned and hurried away in the direction he had pointed.

Wingover stared after him, feeling dazed.

"What was that all about " Jilian asked.

"I haven't the vaguest idea."

Somewhat disoriented and thoroughly cranky, Wingover once more headed for the flying pigs, which were just ahead now, gliding in happy circles above the inn. The man walked more slowly, though, and cast cautious glances at the dwarven girl and her sword. The place was busy, as usual.