Raistlin, with marvelous dexterity, made the coin dance over his knuckles, flipping it in and out of his fingers. Then he made it disappear, only to reappear inside the ear of some startled gully dwarf who stared at the mage in amazement. This last trick produced a momentary interruption in the performance as the Aghar’s friends grabbed him and peered intently into his ear, one of them even sticking his finger inside to see if more coins might be forthcoming. This interesting activity ceased, though, when Raistlin reached into another pouch and removed a small scroll of parchment. Spreading it open with his long, thin fingers, the mage began to read from it, chanting softly, “SuA tangus moipar, ast akular kalipar” The gully dwarves watched in total fascination.
When the mage finished reading, the spidery-looking words on the scroll began to burn. They flared, then disappeared, leaving traces of green smoke.
“What was that all about?” Sturm asked suspiciously.
“They are now spellbound,” Raistlin replied. “I have cast over them a spell of friendship.”
The gully dwarves were enthralled and, Tanis noticed, the expressions on their faces had changed from interest to open, unabashed affection for the mage. They reached out and patted him with their dirty hands, jabbering away in their shapeless language. Sturm glanced at Tanis in alarm. Tanis knew what the knight was thinking; Raistlin could have cast that spell on any of them at any time.
Hearing the sound of running feet, Tanis looked quickly back to where Riverwind stood guard. The Plainsman pointed to the gully dwarves, then held up his hands, fingers spread. Ten more were heading their way. Soon, the new Aghar trotted into view, passing Riverwind without so much as a glance. They pulled up short on seeing the commotion around the mage.
“What happening?” said one, staring at Raistlin. The spellbound gully dwarves were gathered around the mage, tugging on his robe and dragging him down the hall.
“Friend. This our friend,” they all chattered wildly in a crude form of Common.
“Yes,” Raistlin said in a soft and gentle voice, so smooth and winning that Tanis was momentarily taken aback. “You are all my friends,” the mage continued. “Now, tell me, my friends- where does this corridor lead?” Raistlin pointed to the east.
There was an immediate babble of answers.
“Corridor lead that way,” said one, pointing east.
“No, it lead that way!” said another, pointing west.
A scuffle broke out, the gully dwarves pushing and shoving. Soon fists were flying and then one gully dwarf had another on the ground, kicking him, yelling, “That way! That way!” at the top of his lungs.
Sturm turned to Tanis. “This is ridiculous! They’ll bring every draconian in the place down on us. I don’t know what that crazy magician has done, but you’ve got to stop him.”
Before Tanis could intervene, however, one female gully dwarf took matters into her own hands. Dashing into the melee, she grabbed the two combatants, knocked their heads together smartly, and dumped them on the floor. The others, who had been cheering them on, immediately hushed, and the newcomer turned to Raistlin. She had a thick, bulbous nose and her hair stood up wildly on her head. She wore a patched and ragged dress, thick shoes, and stockings that collapsed around her ankles. But she seemed to be a leader among the gully dwarves, for they all eyed her with respect. This may have been because she carried a huge, heavy bag slung over one shoulder. The bag dragged along the ground as she walked, occasionally tripping her. But the bag was apparently of great importance to her. When one of the other gully dwarves attempted to touch it, she whirled around and smacked him across the face.
“Corridor lead to big bosses,” she said, nodding her head toward the east.
“Thank you, my dear,” Raistlin said, reaching out to touch her cheek. He spoke a few words, “Tan-tago, musalah.”
The female gully dwarf watched, fascinated, as he spoke. Then she sighed and gazed up at him in adoration.
“Tell me, little one,” Raistlin said. “How many bosses?”
The gully dwarf frowned, concentrating. She raised a grubby hand. “One,” she said, holding up one finger. “And one, and one, and one.” Looking up at Raistlin triumphantly, she held up four fingers and said, “Two.”