direction.
“Where are you going, dear sir?” the professor exclaimed in amazement. “What about the tooth?”
All the students, suddenly roused from their lethargy, started gaping wide-eyed at the gnome.
When he heard the question, Hallas stopped, turned round, and made an indecent gesture to everyone there. The poor professor clutched at his heart. Pleased with the effect he had created, the gnome strode on toward the exit with his head held high.
“And where to now, Hallas?” Deler asked.
“To a tavern! Maybe drink will do something to ease this damned pain.…”
* * *
The gnome strode in determinedly through the door of the Sundrop tavern. It was probably the worst of all such establishments in the Upper City. Although it was so close to the university and the school of magicians, the characters who gathered there were by no means the most trustworthy types.
My cautious glance immediately picked out a table with five Doralissians and a table with men wearing the badge of the Guild of Stonemasons. The Doralissians and the masons were eyeing each other dourly, but had not yet moved on to active hostilities. I was inclined to think that things wouldn’t get as far as a fight until the lads downed another five jugs of wine.
Another danger zone in the bar room of the Sundrop was the tables where a dozen or so Heartless Chasseurs were sitting, apparently celebrating a leave pass. They cast sideways glances at the Doralissians and the stonemasons. The soldiers’ faces were set in an expression of gloomy determination to batter the faces of both groups if they tried to stop them having a good time.
Of course, there were plenty of ordinary folks in a more peaceable frame of mind, but there was definitely tension in the air and the innkeeper was dashing about like a lunatic, trying to defuse the situation.
“Hmm…,” I said, trying to shout above the din. “Maybe we should find somewhere a bit calmer?”
“Don’t be afraid, Harold, you’re with me!” Hallas declared, taking a seat at the only free table, which was right beside the bar.
I wasn’t afraid. I had no doubt that if the regulars of this tavern suddenly found themselves in the Knife and Ax, they would faint in sheer fright. But why were we here? What was the point in sticking your nose into a bear’s den just for the sake of a fight? We needed to take good care of ourselves.
A serving wench appeared in front of us as if by magic.
“Beer for these four, and something very, very strong for me,” said the gnome.
“We have wheat liquor and krudr—Doralissian vodka.”
“Mix the liquor with the krudr, add some dark beer and a bit of Gnome’s Fire,” the gnome decided after a moment’s thought. “Do you have Gnome’s Fire?”
“We can probably find some, sir.”
If the serving wench was surprised by this strange selection, she didn’t show it.
“Listen, Hallas,” Deler said to the gnome, “if you want to commit suicide, you don’t have to drink garbage. Just tell me, and I’ll dispatch you to the next world at the drop of a hat.”
Hallas adopted a rather unusual tactic in response to this jibe—he ignored it.
“And no beer for me, please, just carrot juice,” Kli-Kli put in.
“We don’t serve that here.”
“Well, some other kind of juice, as long as it tastes good.”
“We don’t have any,” the serving wench said, not very politely.
“How about milk? Do you have milk?”
“Beer.”
“All right then, beer.” Kli-Kli sighed disappointedly.
“Fancy finding people like this in such a place!” said a familiar voice.
Lamplighter, Arnkh, and Marmot walked up to us. Invincible jumped off Marmot’s shoulder, thudded down onto our table, and started twitching his pink nose in hopes of finding something tasty to eat. Kli-Kli thrust a carrot at the ling, but the beast just bared his teeth. He didn’t give a damn for the goblin’s attempts to make friends with him.
“What wind blows you in
“Where are you going, dear sir?” the professor exclaimed in amazement. “What about the tooth?”
All the students, suddenly roused from their lethargy, started gaping wide-eyed at the gnome.
When he heard the question, Hallas stopped, turned round, and made an indecent gesture to everyone there. The poor professor clutched at his heart. Pleased with the effect he had created, the gnome strode on toward the exit with his head held high.
“And where to now, Hallas?” Deler asked.
“To a tavern! Maybe drink will do something to ease this damned pain.…”
* * *
The gnome strode in determinedly through the door of the Sundrop tavern. It was probably the worst of all such establishments in the Upper City. Although it was so close to the university and the school of magicians, the characters who gathered there were by no means the most trustworthy types.
My cautious glance immediately picked out a table with five Doralissians and a table with men wearing the badge of the Guild of Stonemasons. The Doralissians and the masons were eyeing each other dourly, but had not yet moved on to active hostilities. I was inclined to think that things wouldn’t get as far as a fight until the lads downed another five jugs of wine.
Another danger zone in the bar room of the Sundrop was the tables where a dozen or so Heartless Chasseurs were sitting, apparently celebrating a leave pass. They cast sideways glances at the Doralissians and the stonemasons. The soldiers’ faces were set in an expression of gloomy determination to batter the faces of both groups if they tried to stop them having a good time.
Of course, there were plenty of ordinary folks in a more peaceable frame of mind, but there was definitely tension in the air and the innkeeper was dashing about like a lunatic, trying to defuse the situation.
“Hmm…,” I said, trying to shout above the din. “Maybe we should find somewhere a bit calmer?”
“Don’t be afraid, Harold, you’re with me!” Hallas declared, taking a seat at the only free table, which was right beside the bar.
I wasn’t afraid. I had no doubt that if the regulars of this tavern suddenly found themselves in the Knife and Ax, they would faint in sheer fright. But why were we here? What was the point in sticking your nose into a bear’s den just for the sake of a fight? We needed to take good care of ourselves.
A serving wench appeared in front of us as if by magic.
“Beer for these four, and something very, very strong for me,” said the gnome.
“We have wheat liquor and krudr—Doralissian vodka.”
“Mix the liquor with the krudr, add some dark beer and a bit of Gnome’s Fire,” the gnome decided after a moment’s thought. “Do you have Gnome’s Fire?”
“We can probably find some, sir.”
If the serving wench was surprised by this strange selection, she didn’t show it.
“Listen, Hallas,” Deler said to the gnome, “if you want to commit suicide, you don’t have to drink garbage. Just tell me, and I’ll dispatch you to the next world at the drop of a hat.”
Hallas adopted a rather unusual tactic in response to this jibe—he ignored it.
“And no beer for me, please, just carrot juice,” Kli-Kli put in.
“We don’t serve that here.”
“Well, some other kind of juice, as long as it tastes good.”
“We don’t have any,” the serving wench said, not very politely.
“How about milk? Do you have milk?”
“Beer.”
“All right then, beer.” Kli-Kli sighed disappointedly.
“Fancy finding people like this in such a place!” said a familiar voice.
Lamplighter, Arnkh, and Marmot walked up to us. Invincible jumped off Marmot’s shoulder, thudded down onto our table, and started twitching his pink nose in hopes of finding something tasty to eat. Kli-Kli thrust a carrot at the ling, but the beast just bared his teeth. He didn’t give a damn for the goblin’s attempts to make friends with him.
“What wind blows you in
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