p-Mayard said, “If only I did. But I’ll treat you a few rounds at Sparty’s. I’m a bit thirsty too.”
Longbeard said, “Sounds good. Huey, Dewey, and Louie are due to relieve us soon. Why don’t you go on to the livery and quarter your team? Your companion looks a bit young for the tavern. The lads in the livery ought to have some sarsaparilla that he could drink. We bottle it here and harvest the plants from the hillsides above town. Gnome-town sarsaparilla will make your muscles strong and your beard grow long!”
Pseudo-Mayard puffed, “He… uh, he’s a lot older than he looks.”
Longbeard Nineteen Names observed, “Ah, I see that he bears the mark of the Klarjes, so must be related to you.”
Mayard’s doppelganger answered, “That’s my great nephew Rhiann. He’s my apprentice and the son of my niece Caye. He can hold his own.”
Longbeard said, “If you trust him, that’s good enough for me. However, if Madam Darktop hears of anyone under age being served in the tavern, she’ll have everyone’s hide. Storming Norman Darktop, even with his twenty-four names, only thinks he wears the pants in his family and leads this conurbation. He’d best wait in the livery.”
Rhiann said, “I don’t mind Uncle Mayard. Mother wouldn’t want me imbibing strong spirits.”
p-Mayard still thought Rhiann was Mayard and thought getting him into the cozy tavern’s confines constituted a favor and said, “So be it, Boss, uh, Rhiann. You’ll be missing fine ale and mead.”
The Shapechanger urged the bovines forward and headed toward the center of the walled town and the stables. Gnomes busily attended their affairs all about. Mayard’s doppelganger maneuvered the wagon and its team to a position within the main complex. Attendants helped guide the big bovines toward the wall. Gnomish farriers tended the beasts in the stables with expertise and compassion. Blue nus, red machis, and a single phi gamm rested in stalls. Various equines munched on carefully prepared trail mix. Particular attention was given to stout little halvsies, the favorite steeds of the Gnomish folk. Halvsies were not unexpectedly about half the size of the large workhorses that shared the well-kept livery stalls. Farriers unhitched the team of phi gamms and left them to a large pen socked with an ample supply of grasses. Rhiann and the Shapechanger stood awkwardly by the heavily loaded wagon.
An older Gnomish farrier said matter-of-factly, “You can leave it. Gnomes don’t steal.”
benjamintowe 