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Authors: David Lee Stone
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chain. Oh sure, there’s the council, but the city pretty much runs itself without too much hindrance from anyone but the duke.”
“Who’s that li’l fella over there?” said Tambor, pointing toward a corner table at the back of the room. “He’s smaller than you!” he said, nodding his head at the dwarf.
Gordo tried to see where the old sorcerer was looking, in case there was a relative he could sit with. His gaze fell on a bright red hat with green flowers painted on it. “That’s a gnome, you silly old fool.”
Tambor blinked. “Ah,” he said. “What’s the difference?”
“Dwarfs is bigger,” said Groan, to show he was paying attention. “An’ dwarfs as got beards, an’ dwarfs is fatter, an—”
“All right!” Gordo snapped. “I think he’s got the point.”
“Why’s he just sittin’ there, then?” asked Groan.
Tambor coughed over his beer mug and gave himself a froth moustache on top of his beard. “P’raps he’s got gnome to go to,” he said, and spent the next minute in quiet hysterics.
“May the gods help us,” said Gordo, looking out at the encroaching darkness. “Look, we’d better start thinking about lodgings. We can’t stay here all night, and I’ll be damned if I’m going back home without a brass nickel. The village elders would have me in disgrace.”
“Stay ’ere with me,” said Tambor, throwing one arm around Gordo and making a valiant attempt to get the other midway round Groan. “My grandson’s comin’ to meet me in a minute. He’s a semi prof—proffec—proffectional thief. Gonna work for the Yowlers, he is. Best in the city.”
“Marvelous,” said Gordo.
TEN
J IMMY QUICKSTINT WAS THE most incompetent thief in the history of organized crime. The chandelier creaked as he swung back and forth.
Jimmy looked up at the chandelier—just as the chain snapped.
It wasn’t a great fall, but it was certainly an unfortunate one. Most of the room was carpeted but, as fate would have it, Jimmy landed heavily on a square of floor Lord Moffet had purposely overlooked when the money ran out. The chandelier landed on top of him. I should’ve been a beggar, Jimmy thought.
He heard someone approaching and, straining to lift his head, he turned to see who it was. A hairy Alsatian trotted over to him. And lifted one leg.
“Where’s that no-good grandson of mine?” said Tambor, who had passed through two giggling fits and was nearing genuine joviality.
Chas Firebrand leaned over his shoulder and collected three empty mugs. He then wiped each one “clean” with the flap of his beer-stained apron and passed them to the barmaid, a pretty young lass who had just fluttered in and caused Groan to pass out.
“What’s he look like, this boy of yours?” said Gordo, checking Groan’s pulse to make sure his friend was still breathing.
“Silly young bugger,” said Tambor. “Got his father’s face and his mother’s walk—or is it the other way round…?”
Chas frowned at the barbarian. “Dear oh dear,” he said, shaking his head. “He all right, is he?”
“He shouldn’t drink so much; it’s obviously bad for him.”
“No it isn’t,” said Tambor, reprehensively. “I look after my drink, I do. Take it home with me.”
Chas winced. “Blimey,” he said. “That’s some capacity you’ve got there, old man.”
Tambor smiled at the middle distance, then tried and failed to get up.
Halfway along Tanner Avenue, Jimmy Quickstint stopped and kicked out at the nearest wall in frustration. Then he unfolded the night’s remaining assignment and read;
Date: Thursday 43rd Fortune, 1002
Assignment Location: 14 Sack Avenue
Task: Golden serpent-shaped idol
Objective: Retrieval
PLEASE INCINERATE AFTER DIGESTION
Jimmy had always wondered if the last bit was metaphorical. Did they really expect you to eat it first, then set light to it? Even the Yowler’s multi-stomached mutant members would have had their work cut out trying that. He read the note
“Who’s that li’l fella over there?” said Tambor, pointing toward a corner table at the back of the room. “He’s smaller than you!” he said, nodding his head at the dwarf.
Gordo tried to see where the old sorcerer was looking, in case there was a relative he could sit with. His gaze fell on a bright red hat with green flowers painted on it. “That’s a gnome, you silly old fool.”
Tambor blinked. “Ah,” he said. “What’s the difference?”
“Dwarfs is bigger,” said Groan, to show he was paying attention. “An’ dwarfs as got beards, an’ dwarfs is fatter, an—”
“All right!” Gordo snapped. “I think he’s got the point.”
“Why’s he just sittin’ there, then?” asked Groan.
Tambor coughed over his beer mug and gave himself a froth moustache on top of his beard. “P’raps he’s got gnome to go to,” he said, and spent the next minute in quiet hysterics.
“May the gods help us,” said Gordo, looking out at the encroaching darkness. “Look, we’d better start thinking about lodgings. We can’t stay here all night, and I’ll be damned if I’m going back home without a brass nickel. The village elders would have me in disgrace.”
“Stay ’ere with me,” said Tambor, throwing one arm around Gordo and making a valiant attempt to get the other midway round Groan. “My grandson’s comin’ to meet me in a minute. He’s a semi prof—proffec—proffectional thief. Gonna work for the Yowlers, he is. Best in the city.”
“Marvelous,” said Gordo.
TEN
J IMMY QUICKSTINT WAS THE most incompetent thief in the history of organized crime. The chandelier creaked as he swung back and forth.
Jimmy looked up at the chandelier—just as the chain snapped.
It wasn’t a great fall, but it was certainly an unfortunate one. Most of the room was carpeted but, as fate would have it, Jimmy landed heavily on a square of floor Lord Moffet had purposely overlooked when the money ran out. The chandelier landed on top of him. I should’ve been a beggar, Jimmy thought.
He heard someone approaching and, straining to lift his head, he turned to see who it was. A hairy Alsatian trotted over to him. And lifted one leg.
“Where’s that no-good grandson of mine?” said Tambor, who had passed through two giggling fits and was nearing genuine joviality.
Chas Firebrand leaned over his shoulder and collected three empty mugs. He then wiped each one “clean” with the flap of his beer-stained apron and passed them to the barmaid, a pretty young lass who had just fluttered in and caused Groan to pass out.
“What’s he look like, this boy of yours?” said Gordo, checking Groan’s pulse to make sure his friend was still breathing.
“Silly young bugger,” said Tambor. “Got his father’s face and his mother’s walk—or is it the other way round…?”
Chas frowned at the barbarian. “Dear oh dear,” he said, shaking his head. “He all right, is he?”
“He shouldn’t drink so much; it’s obviously bad for him.”
“No it isn’t,” said Tambor, reprehensively. “I look after my drink, I do. Take it home with me.”
Chas winced. “Blimey,” he said. “That’s some capacity you’ve got there, old man.”
Tambor smiled at the middle distance, then tried and failed to get up.
Halfway along Tanner Avenue, Jimmy Quickstint stopped and kicked out at the nearest wall in frustration. Then he unfolded the night’s remaining assignment and read;
Date: Thursday 43rd Fortune, 1002
Assignment Location: 14 Sack Avenue
Task: Golden serpent-shaped idol
Objective: Retrieval
PLEASE INCINERATE AFTER DIGESTION
Jimmy had always wondered if the last bit was metaphorical. Did they really expect you to eat it first, then set light to it? Even the Yowler’s multi-stomached mutant members would have had their work cut out trying that. He read the note
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