A moment later, dwarf and beast were padding through the deserted streets of Prygg. It seemed that word of the slaughter had spread throughout the city. Even many blocks from the embassy, all doors were shut, all shutters barred. No one walked abroad that Halloween night!
Or, almost no one.
“Psst! Shelyid!” came a low and hoarse cry from an alley to their left. The snarl’s hackles began to rise, but fell soon enough as it became clear that Shelyid was ecstatic.
“Oh, it’s Magrit!” cried the dwarf. “And Les Six!”
Sure enough, ’twas the disreputable septet in the flesh. They ventured out from the alley and came up to the dwarf—keeping a certain distance, to be sure.
Amazingly, Les Six were speechless. Magrit was not, quite.
“I’ve seen everything now,” she muttered. Then, to Shelyid: “You want to come with us? My house is just around the corner.”
The apprentice hesitated. “Well.” He stroked the snarl’s shoulder. “Well, yes, I guess I’d better.” He started to climb down from the monster, then hesitated.
“Maybe I should stay with her just a while longer,” he said. “Just to make sure she gets out of the city all right.”
Good fortune is always brief. Les Six found their voice.
” ‘Tis true!” cried the first.
“The snarl needs a shepherd to guide it through the streets!” pleaded the second.
“The perilous streets of the Pryggian night!” gasped the third. “Filled with ruffians and footpads!”
“I can see the horrid scene now!” wailed the fourth. “The snarl ambushed!”
“The bloodthirsty cutpurse advancing, knife in hand!” moaned the fifth.
“The snarl at bay! Cornered! Back to the wall! Whimpering for mercy!” This from the sixth, and back around to the first.
“But ’tis a pitiless rogue, yon blackguard of—”
“All right! All right! You’ve made the point!” shrilled the dwarf. He climbed down from the snarl. For a moment, dwarf and monster stared at each other, their eyes not two feet apart. The beast licked Shelyid’s face with a great purple tongue. The dwarf giggled, then clutched the terror’s neck. His puny little arms didn’t reach halfway around.
“Take care of yourself,” he mumbled into the mass of fur, then stepped back. Another moment of this absurd mutual admiration. Suddenly the snarl was gone, flitting down the alleys like a ghost, heading toward the great rocky crags to the west, which shone in the moonlight above the rooftops.
Now afoot, like a proper gnome, Shelyid followed Magrit and Les Six in the opposite direction. Once only he looked back.
CHAPTER XXVI.
A Wizard’s Wrath. A Dwarf’s Biography Retold. Unfortunate Misunderstandings Thereof. The Wizard Abashed. A Dwarf’s Decision. A Contract Is Negotiated!
And so it was that the first sight which greeted the wizard Zulkeh upon entering Magrit’s chamber was that of his apprentice, perched on a couch, a shawl wrapped about his little shoulders, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in his hands. Magrit sat next to him on the couch. Les Six were scattered about on various seats. Wolfgang sat in his special chair in the corner, his features hard to discern in the dim lighting.
The gnome was chattering away as if he had not a care in the world. He was immediately disabused of the notion.
“Miscreant!” oathed Zulkeh from the doorway. “Disobedient rascal! Insubordinate delinquent! Mutinous—”
His peroration was cut short by Greyboar, who pushed him into the chamber from behind.
“Do you mind letting the rest of us by?” growled the strangler. He staggered into the room and let fall the sack off his shoulders, heaving a great sigh of relief.
“Am I glad to be rid of this thing!” he puffed. He eyed Shelyid with respect. “How long have you been lugging around this—this burden of eternal damnation, anyway?”
“Ever since we left Goimr!” piped up the dwarf. “Thanks a lot for taking care of the sack. I know it’s real heavy. It was hard at first, but I’ve gotten used to it, and besides, it’s like the master said! This trip’s improved my muscular tone and strengthened my stamina, just like he said it would!”
“Bah!” oathed Zulkeh. “Think you this feeble praise will deflect the force of my chastisement? Which even now sweeps toward your diminutive person as the cyclone of the tropics falls upon the monkey chattering in his palm tree!”