artisan was a master.
My lower back was gnawing at me before we were halfway where we were going. I breathed through my mouth because of the smell I hoped nobody took offense. The racket was incredible. Those dwarves banged and clanged and scraped and squeaked like crazy, all for the sake of maintaining an image as industrious little buggers. I bet they started loafing the second I was out of sight.
12
The dwarf with the silly name didn't look silly. Mostly he looked hairy. I assumed a beard was an emblem of status. He was two beady black eyes peeking out of gray brush. I couldn't tell what he was wearing behind all the foliage. He did have a standard-issue sort of dwarf's hat perched on top, complete with pheasant tail feather.
Gnorst of the many Gnorsts met me in a shaded garden on top of one of the buildings. Very stylized and arty, that garden, with white marble gravel paths, teensy trees, little wooden bridges over fish ponds. The works, all in a style usually associated with high elves.
I rubbed the small of my back and gawked. Gnorst said, "An affectation of mine, Mr. Garrett. My tastes are very undwarflsh. My worldly successes allow me to indulge my peculiarities." This before the introductions and amenities.
"It's restful," I said. "I'm surprised to see it atop a building."
My guide faded away. Another hairball brought refreshments. The goodies included beer. Maybe they'd heard of me. I took a long drink. "You all make beer like you do everything else."
It wasn't that good but I had to be diplomatic. Gnorst was pleased. Maybe he'd had some hand in its brewing.
Dwarves shun alcohol and drugs, so wouldn't have any real standard by which to judge the product.
"I wish I had time for a relaxed chat, Mr. Garrett. I'd love to catch up on the adventures of my old friend, your partner."
"My partner?" Maybe he is but I don't go around admitting it in public. I laughed. "I'll forget you said that. I don't want to give him ideas."
"To be sure. He's stubborn at times. I'll drop in someday. It's been too long. Meanwhile, indulge my impatience. I'm pressed"
"Sure. I'm in a hurry myself."
"What brought you, then?"
"The Dead Man's idea. A friend of mine was knifed yesterday. The gang that did it were mostly dwarves."
Gnorst popped up. "Dwarves! Involved in a killing?"
"Attempted killing. So far " I explained
"Strange. Very strange." But he relaxed visibly, like maybe he'd concluded his own bunch couldn't he responsible. "I don't see how I can help you."
"The Dead Man hoped you could give me a line on those guys. The dwarf community is pretty tight."
"This one is. But there are dwarves who aren't part of this enterprise. Still... the behavior isn't to be countenanced. It aggravates prejudice. That's bad for business. I'll quiz my people. Someone may know those dwarves— though I hope not. A dwarf gone bad is a bad dwarf indeed
That sounded like a proverb. I told him, "Thanks for your time. I didn't think it would help. One more thing. You ever heard of something called a book of shadows? Or a book of dreams?"
He jumped like somebody goosed him with a hot poker He stared at me a whole minute. I exaggerate not. Then he squeaked, "A book of dreams?"
"A woman came to the house before I came over here. She looked a lot like my friend who got stabbed. I think she was the intended victim. She wanted to hire me. Gave me a long story about a witch called the Serpent and a book of dreams that got stolen from her and is supposed to be in TunFaire now."
"Excuse me, Mr. Garrett " Gnorst scuttled off, mumbled at the guy who'd brought the beer. He stomped back over. "I just canceled some appointments. You have more time."
"I ring a bell or something?"
"A gong. A carillon. I guess you're unfamiliar with early dwarf history."
"Everybody else's, too. What's up?"
"You've recalled an ancient terror."
"Maybe you'd better explain." Before I got dizzy.
"The Book of Dreams, more often called the Book of Shadows, is infamous in
My lower back was gnawing at me before we were halfway where we were going. I breathed through my mouth because of the smell I hoped nobody took offense. The racket was incredible. Those dwarves banged and clanged and scraped and squeaked like crazy, all for the sake of maintaining an image as industrious little buggers. I bet they started loafing the second I was out of sight.
12
The dwarf with the silly name didn't look silly. Mostly he looked hairy. I assumed a beard was an emblem of status. He was two beady black eyes peeking out of gray brush. I couldn't tell what he was wearing behind all the foliage. He did have a standard-issue sort of dwarf's hat perched on top, complete with pheasant tail feather.
Gnorst of the many Gnorsts met me in a shaded garden on top of one of the buildings. Very stylized and arty, that garden, with white marble gravel paths, teensy trees, little wooden bridges over fish ponds. The works, all in a style usually associated with high elves.
I rubbed the small of my back and gawked. Gnorst said, "An affectation of mine, Mr. Garrett. My tastes are very undwarflsh. My worldly successes allow me to indulge my peculiarities." This before the introductions and amenities.
"It's restful," I said. "I'm surprised to see it atop a building."
My guide faded away. Another hairball brought refreshments. The goodies included beer. Maybe they'd heard of me. I took a long drink. "You all make beer like you do everything else."
It wasn't that good but I had to be diplomatic. Gnorst was pleased. Maybe he'd had some hand in its brewing.
Dwarves shun alcohol and drugs, so wouldn't have any real standard by which to judge the product.
"I wish I had time for a relaxed chat, Mr. Garrett. I'd love to catch up on the adventures of my old friend, your partner."
"My partner?" Maybe he is but I don't go around admitting it in public. I laughed. "I'll forget you said that. I don't want to give him ideas."
"To be sure. He's stubborn at times. I'll drop in someday. It's been too long. Meanwhile, indulge my impatience. I'm pressed"
"Sure. I'm in a hurry myself."
"What brought you, then?"
"The Dead Man's idea. A friend of mine was knifed yesterday. The gang that did it were mostly dwarves."
Gnorst popped up. "Dwarves! Involved in a killing?"
"Attempted killing. So far " I explained
"Strange. Very strange." But he relaxed visibly, like maybe he'd concluded his own bunch couldn't he responsible. "I don't see how I can help you."
"The Dead Man hoped you could give me a line on those guys. The dwarf community is pretty tight."
"This one is. But there are dwarves who aren't part of this enterprise. Still... the behavior isn't to be countenanced. It aggravates prejudice. That's bad for business. I'll quiz my people. Someone may know those dwarves— though I hope not. A dwarf gone bad is a bad dwarf indeed
That sounded like a proverb. I told him, "Thanks for your time. I didn't think it would help. One more thing. You ever heard of something called a book of shadows? Or a book of dreams?"
He jumped like somebody goosed him with a hot poker He stared at me a whole minute. I exaggerate not. Then he squeaked, "A book of dreams?"
"A woman came to the house before I came over here. She looked a lot like my friend who got stabbed. I think she was the intended victim. She wanted to hire me. Gave me a long story about a witch called the Serpent and a book of dreams that got stolen from her and is supposed to be in TunFaire now."
"Excuse me, Mr. Garrett " Gnorst scuttled off, mumbled at the guy who'd brought the beer. He stomped back over. "I just canceled some appointments. You have more time."
"I ring a bell or something?"
"A gong. A carillon. I guess you're unfamiliar with early dwarf history."
"Everybody else's, too. What's up?"
"You've recalled an ancient terror."
"Maybe you'd better explain." Before I got dizzy.
"The Book of Dreams, more often called the Book of Shadows, is infamous in
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