room in shambles.
“What happened?” he demanded, looking at the
broken table, the shattered chairs, and the crushed
crockery.
“Well, that is . . .” Kali stammered, thinking that he
had best use this time to tell Oster the truth – that his lady
fair had woken and destroyed the room, all the while
gleefully describing the tortures she would heap upon
him, Oster.
“It looks like a fiend hit this place,” continued Oster.
“Ah … yes. A fiend.” Kali shoved the truth to the
back of his mind. Oster had been a hero only moments
before, and the truth would only hurt him.
Kali had no fiends illustrated on his spoon collection
and wondered what one truly looked like, but taking a
deep breath he plunged on. “Ah … A fiend was here. Tall
he was, so that his horns scraped the ceiling, and with
plates of red, hardened chitin jutting from his shoulders,
and a weave of black wires where his mouth was.”
“Was he large? Did he carry a sword in a mailed
glove? And armor?” asked Oster, his brow furrowed.
“Yes, yes, he was, and armored all over.” Suddenly Kali
clamped a hand over his own mouth. In seeking to
describe the “fiend” who had leveled the place, he had
described the Highlord’s dragonarmor.
“So,” said Oster sternly, drawing himself up to his full
height. “He lived through the death of his dragon. Why
would he come here . . . unless . . . the Lady Columbine?
Is she safe?”
“She … ah … rests comfortably in her room. The fiend
made no attempt to get to her.” Kali hoped that when
Oster checked on her condition, he was not knowledgeable
enough to spot an additional bump where Eton had
clobbered her with a shovel.
“He was looking for me, wasn’t he?” asked Oster
grimly.
“No. I mean yes. I mean . . .” Kali said, trying to avoid
tripping over his own tongue. Other gnomes, such as
Archie, could spin tall tales until morning, but Kali always
feared that one word would fall against another and leave
him revealed as a liar. “He was here, and looking for you,
and was most angry when I told him you were dead. He
wanted your body, but I said we had burned it. I didn’t
mean to lie, but it seemed to be a good idea at the time.”
And I mean that in all possible ways, he added to himself.
“You did well, little healer,” said Oster. “But you
risked much to deceive one such as that. He will probably
be back. When he does return, we must be ready for him.
Tell me, what is the condition of the lady?”
“She . . . rests,” said Kali, still choosing his words
carefully. “I have given much thought to her injuries, and
fear she might not recover.” He was going to add that it
would be in everyone’s best interest if she NOT recover,
but he made the error of looking into Oster’s face, and saw
the pain in his eyes. The human had stopped being a hero
and became once more a middle-aged merchant. So Kali
said instead, “I have a list of further medications that may
cure her illness. But it will take time.”
Oster immediately volunteered to go fetch them, and
Archie chimed in his aid as well. Only Eton and Kali
would know that the lady was no lady, and the ingredients
the Clockwork Hero gathered were mixed to form a
smoky concoction, the fumes of which would keep the
woman in her blissful sleep until Kali could work his own
solution.
The next few weeks – the time through high summer –
passed with as few incidents as could be expected for a
community of gnomes. Oster the Clockwork Hero’s
prestige in the community increased as he slew a few of
the creatures that had plagued the area, including a large
hydra that ruled the Steaming Stream and a beholder that
had set up shop in an ancient dwarven mine.
The fact that in the former case he was accompanied
by a party of gnomes armed with Eton’s automatic lasso-
projectors and in the latter the sword he found had been