Shadow Chaser by Alexey Pehov

shouted after me.
    “I don’t think we’ll meet again,” I said, looking round at him. “I’m only passing through. I’ll be leaving the city soon.”
    And so saying, I turned away and hurried after Hallas. Kli-Kli couldn’t resist asking: “Was that a friend of yours?”
    “Yes … That is, no … maybe.”
    “Brrrrr,” said the jester, shaking his head. “Is that yes or no? Make up your mind.”
    “Leave him alone, Kli-Kli,” Eel advised the goblin.
    “What have I done?” Kli-Kli asked with a shrug. “I only asked. Listen, Harold, are you so elegantly polite and considerate with everyone, or just the chosen few? I’m just asking to bear it in mind for the future, so I won’t be too surprised when you tell me to get lost in such frank and charming manner when we meet.”
    “Chew your carrot!” I growled.
    He grunted resentfully and took my advice, biting off a huge piece.
    And just then we heard a loud howl ringing across the market: “Honorable sirs! Honorable sirs!”
    “Does he mean us?” Eel asked, turning round just in case.
    “Honorable sirs, wait!” shouted a decently dressed young lad, running toward us and waving his arms desperately in the air.
    “He definitely wants us,” said Eel, and stopped.
    “What in the name of the underground kings does he want?” Deler muttered, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
    “Let’s go,” said Hallas, shoving his partner. “If we stand around waiting for everyone who starts shouting, we’ll never get to the barber’s before nightfall!”
    “And if we keep walking, he’ll run after us, bawling his head off,” I objected reasonably. “That’s one piece of luck we can do without.”
    “Uhu,” said Kli-Kli, sinking his teeth into the carrot. “Hallas, your sleeve has ridden up your arm.”
    The gnome swore and pulled down the sleeve of his brown shirt to cover the tattoo of a red heart with teeth—the emblem of the Wild Hearts Brigade.
    “Honorable sirs!” said the lad, breathing heavily. He was obviously worn out from chasing after us.
    “What do you want, young man?” Hallas asked with a menacing frown. “Don’t you have anything better to do than go around yelling for all the town to hear?”
    “I wanted to suggest—,” the young lad began, but Deler interrupted him again:
    “We’re not buying!”
    The dwarf and the gnome turned away and walked on, without even listening to what the poor panting fellow had to say. I shrugged. This youth was not going to sell anything to the gnome.
    “Wait!” he shouted. “Aren’t you the one looking for a barber?”
    Hallas froze with one foot in midair, then slowly lowered it and turned in our direction. The expression on the gnome’s face did not bode the young lad any good.
    “How much?” the gnome asked, unfolding his fists.
    “Free!”
    That stopped our bearded friend dead in his tracks and set him thinking hard. He grunted, scratched the back of his head, and said: “I thought I heard you say that I can have my tooth pulled out absolutely free of charge. Is that right?”
    “Absolutely right!”
    “It’s nonsense!” Deler rumbled. “Nothing’s ever free!”
    “That’s what I think, too,” said Hallas, giving the young lad another dark look.
    “No, honorable sirs, I’m not lying! They’ll do everything for you at the faculty of healers in the university without taking a single coin. And they’re not barbers, but absolutely genuine healers. Luminaries of science. Professors!”
    “Mm, is that so?” Hallas asked, still suspicious. “And don’t these professors of yours have anything better to do than go around pulling everyone’s teeth out?”
    “But this is examination week at the university,” the student explained. “The professors tell the senior classes how to treat ailments, and demonstrate at the same time, and then they ask questions to see how well we’ve learned it all. I happened to overhear your conversation with the barber.”
    Hallas sighed, and