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p-Mayard thought quickly and said, “Now, my friends, you know my feelings about frivolously using Magick. But my nephew Rhiann does need some practice and you have been a wonderful host. How about some entertainment, Rhiann? Maybe a Dancing Lights or Fairie Fire Spell?”

Rhiann smiled, stood up, conjured, and uttered a few phrases. Harmless Magick Fire danced off the Gnomes’ beards and around the room. Both Norman and his spouse laughed and then invited p-Mayard and Nineteen names to join the repast. Mayard’s doppelganger and the Gnomes exchanged many stories, much to the delight of Rhiann and Iyaca. From that moment negotiations were easy. Burgomaster Norman Twenty-four names insisted on providing an armed escort to accompany Rhiann and p-Mayard to the Copper Mountain mines. Longbeard Nineteen-names volunteered to lead the Gnomish guards. Volunteering facilitated his escape from the boring guard duty at the perimeter.

p-Mayard and Rhiann spent another day in Gnome-town whilst Longbeard Nineteen-names gathered and equipped his most trusted sentries. Madam Darktop’s meals again were the highlight of the day, though Storming Norman, Longbeard, and p-Mayard sneaked away to the tavern for a few rounds before bed. Madam Darktop was wise to their escapades and summoned Rhiann to the sitting room, where he met a fellow traveler, a Dwarfish nobleman named Albie Kirkey.

The doorman entered and announced visitors. A rather haggard p-Mayard and Longbeard Nineteen-names entered. Even a Shapechanger had difficulty disguising the effects of a hangover and spending a night on a straw bed in Nineteen names’ austere quarters.

Burgomaster Norman said, “Now look what the wampus cat drug in! You two look like Kobolds’ trash!”

p-Mayard noted the feast being enjoyed by Mayard-Rhiann who was really Rhiann and puffed, “I’ve enjoyed about as much of Longbeard Nineteen name’s’ hospitality as I can stand. Can’t say much for his lodging! Madam Darktop, you are as lovely as ever. No one can cook like you. Burgomaster Norman sure runs a tight ship! Your hospitality and security in this wild land is greatly appreciated. Here is a token of my and Rhiann’s appreciation.”

p-Mayard extended a dark blue arrow with dark red fletching.

Storming Norman said, “By the Seven Wonders of the Veldt, is that an Amazon’s arrow?”

p-Mayard gloated, “In the flesh! Comes straight from the Temple of Artemis. Not easy picking, but you are deserving of such a gift, Burgomaster. It’s made of bluewood and nigh unbreakable. The fletching is a red condor feather. Amazons raise the big birds like chickens. The arrow is my gift to you.”

Storming Norman was duly impressed and said, “Mayard Klarje, you are one of a kind. Now I’d like to see some Magick. Make old Longbeard look pretty. Nah! That’d take a True Wish!”

Norman twenty-four-names Darktop, Rhiann Klarje, and Iyaca Vassi left the livery and made the short walk to the Burgomaster’s manor. For Gnome-town it was an opulent dwelling, and it compared to the better homes in Thynna’s outer ward. Most of the Burgomaster’s dwelling was above ground, but his bedchamber was cut out of an earthen mound with a thick blackthorn growth over it. Gnomes, even Burgomasters, felt more comfortable sleeping underground. Before dinner Rhiann treated himself to a warm bath in a hot spring and donned fresh raiment. True to Twenty-four names’ word Madam Darktop had prepared a succulent feast. Fruits of the forest and various and sundry tubers joined the roasted blooter on the oversized table. After dinner Rhiann exchanged stories with the Burgomaster and his life-mate. Young Iyaca scurried about and did the High Gnome’s bidding. Rhiann rather enjoyed the informality of the affair. Later Iyaca led him to a guest room that looked out over the now empty plaza of the village. The accommodation lacked the lavishness of the chamber Rhiann used during his stay at the Hanging Gardens, but the bed was as comfortable as anything Rhiann had slept in Thynna. Young Klarje slept well. On the morrow Rhiann joined the Burgomaster for a delicious breakfast. Madam Darktop’s tetraberry pancakes rivaled Rhiann’s mother’s.

Storming Norman asked, “Young Klarje, Iyaca’s parents came from Plano, a hamlet near Flat Rock. Do you know what sorcerers are called in Plano?’

Rhiann said, “Uh… no, Burgomaster.”

Norman said, “Just plain ole sorcerers.”

The hulking Gnome shook with laughter. He continued, “Young Klarje, why can’t my nose be 12 inchworm lengths long?”

Rhiann carefully declined to answer, fearing he’d insult the haughty Gnome.

Storming Norman said, “Tell him, Iyaca!”

Iyaca said, “Cause then it’d be a foot.”

Iyaca laughed and gently nudged Rhiann. Rhiann suffered a chuckle. Iyaca whispered, “It’s good to laugh at his jokes, no matter how bad they are.”

Rhiann reached into his pocket and removed a thick blue nu hide pouch. The hidden Omega Stone warmed at his touch. Faint gray auras surrounded the sack. Touching the stone inexplicably reassured the young sorcerer. He probed the pouch and removed an exquisite emerald and large chuck of deep blue lapis lazuli. The young sorcerer said, “We’d never dream of shortchanging you, Burgomaster Darktop. Your hospitality reigns supreme. My uncle is … uh, negotiating for companions to accompany us to the Copper Mountains. We have business with the armorer Roswell.”

Rhiann extended the emerald and lapis lazuli to the stout Gnome’s strong hand. Storming Norman was only a finger length shorter than Rhiann. He towered over five feet tall and was easily twice Rhiann’s girth. His arms bulged with muscles. A long thick red beard extended nigh to hidden navel. He wore well-made leather armor and carried a heavy Warhammer. He was seldom without the weapon. Norman projected a charismatic aura and exuded confidence.

The Burgomaster said, “Ah, you have your uncle’s gift of gab and share his ability to kiss a**. The mark on your chin has a proper resting place. Young Klarje, your uncle has aided me many times, as I have oft abetted him. He is wise to recruit guards. The way to the mines remains perilous. It’s only two years since the fearsome foursome smote young Iyaca’s parents. Iyaca’s parents hailed from a little hamlet called Plano, near the northernmost fringes of the Veldt and not far from Low Gap. The Vassis were sorcerers of modest ability. They went to Thynna to hope to learn more and better themselves through further knowledge of Magick. The Council of Thynna denied them entry. They and their son Iyaca found passage with a merchant caravan headed for the Samm Hills. The caravan stopped off here for a bit. The fearsome foursome’s lot fell upon the caravan and killed everyone but young Iyaca. They toyed with his life. Eventually they left him alive and orphaned. Miners returning from the Copper Mountains found the boy and brought him to me. I’ve put a big price on the fearsome foursome’s heads in hopes some of their own might turn against them, but Waylon, Willie, Kris, and their leader the man in black have too much of a stranglehold on the brigands’ world. Scumbags all! Young Iyaca is a fine page. He learns quickly and serves well. I’d prefer he be with his own folk, but we seldom see sorcerers, other than your wayfaring Uncle Mayard. He certainly isn’t a good option for caring for a youth, present company excepted, of course.”

Iyaca interrupted, “I hate the fearsome foursome. The Council of Thynna denied us entry to the city of Magick. I hate them more!”

Rhiann asked, “Understandably so. What is your talent, Iyaca?”

Iyaca said, “Talent?”

Rhiann said, “Magick. What can you do?”

Iyaca said, “Magick. So far there’s no sign it touches me.”

Rhiann continued, “You said Magick does not touch you, but most everyone on Sagain has a talent of some sort.?”

Iyaca answered, “The Darktops say I’m good with words and letters. I enjoy reading and writing. I came to my parents late in their lives. Both had lived long. So I suppose I’m long-winded and probably long-living, provided I don’t run into a highwayman’s blade.”

Rhiann said, “I surely hope you avoid that fate.”

Rhiann’s seasons were limited but he knew well many of Mayard’s stories and relayed many to the youth. Daylight faded. Farriers bedded down the livestock and activity ebbed in the livery. Mayard and Longbeard Nineteen-lives remained away.

A voice boomed, “Where is Mayard Klarje? I hear he is in town, but he has not sought audience with me. Has he placed me on the pay-no-mind list?”

Iyaca Vassi jumped up and said, “Burgomaster! Sorcerer Klarje is not here!”

Rhiann reflexively jumped up also.

Burgomaster Storming Norman Twenty-four-names Darktop peered at Rhiann and said, “Oh, yet I see the mark of the Klarjes. Isn’t stable work a bit demeaning for a sorcerer of your caliber, young Klarje?”

Rhiann stammered, “Sir, your lordship, I’m Rhiann Klarje. Mayard is my great uncle. I’ve been enjoying the company of Iyaca and your excellent sarsaparilla and waybread. My uncle stepped out with Longbeard Nineteen-names.”

Norman bellowed, “Yeah, I’m sure they stepped away to the tavern. Mayard promised me some gems from the Gem Bush and a souvenir from one of the Seven Wonders of the Veldt. The bugger had best not try to hoodwink me.”

Rhiann studied the youth and said, “Iyaca, how did you come to live in Gnome-town?”

Iyaca Vassi shuffled his feet and hesitated. Finally, he replied, “Do you want a sarsaparilla? My main task is crushing the plant stuff that makes the base of the beverage. People come from near and far to taste Gnome-town’s sarsaparilla.”

Rhiann said, “I am thirsty. That’d be fine.”

Iyaca Vassi hurried away and soon returned with a frosty mug. Rhiann took a sip and said, “It’s very good. How long have you been in Gnome-town?”

Iyaca was again evasive and said, “Would you like a pastry? Madam Darktop’s Gnomish waybread will keep you filled up all day. And it tastes good too!”

Rhiann answered, “Fine.”

The youth again scurried away and soon returned with warm, buttery slices of bread. Rhiann sampled it. Flavors of honey, byneberries, and ginger dominated the taste. Iyaca beamed as he watched Rhiann enjoy the repast. Rhiann nodded his appreciation, and Iyaca was clearly pleased with his efforts.

Rhiann said, “My name is Rhiann Klarje. I’m a sorcerer from Thynna. I’m following in my uncle’s footsteps. I’m sixteen years old. My Uncle Mayard and I are on a quest to the Copper Mountains. I’m grateful for the sarsaparilla and waybread.”

Iyaca sat on a bale of hay, chewed on a thick piece of straw, and said, “As Longbeard said, my name is Iyaca Vassi. I’m 8 years old. I live with Burgomaster Darktop’s servants. The Gnomes took me in two years ago after highwaymen ambushed a merchant caravan that my parents and I were traveling with. The highwaymen killed everyone but me. They laughed about doing me in. The biggest one was called the Man in Black. He stopped the meanest one Kris from cutting my throat. My parents were sorcerers like you. Well, Magick touched them.”

Rhiann said, “I’m sorry about your parents, Iyaca. I’ve traveled with my uncle a lot and have been away from Thynna. I remember hearing of the attack. The Council of Thynna sent guards to investigate and try to recover the stolen merchandise. The guards failed to capture the highwaymen and some were killed by arrows from snipers. It was believed the fearsome foursome fomented the deed.”

p-Mayard guffawed, “Ah, now I know it’s you in that visage, Boss. You’ve said a couple of things that perplexed me since we left Thynna. Once you spoke of your Uncle Mayard. Made me wonder.”

Rhiann quickly responded, “I’m just getting settled in my role. Changing my visage doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s been a long time since I was young.”

p-Mayard returned, “That’s how Magick seems to me. Must you continuously concentrate on the spell that changes you to your nephew’s visage? If so, what happens should you need to cast another spell?”

Rhiann answered, “Cancelling my spell and removing my visage requires either a Dispel Magick by a sorcerer more powerful than I am or my willfully removing it. If I must, I’ll use Magick. To be honest I’ve kept sulfur within my reach since we left Thynna in case we needed protection.”

p-Mayard laughed again and said, “You crack me up, Boss. Those highwaymen are lucky we stuck to the main road and they stayed away, otherwise, you’d have singed their asses.”

Rhiann said, “I’ll be all right without a night of drinking. You’d best get back in role. Longbeard Nineteen-names is headed this way. There’s a very young lad with him. He’s nigh as tall as Longbeard. Definitely not Gnomish.”

Nineteen-names boomed, “Mayard, if you have finished entertaining your nephew, I’m thirsty. Young Klarje, this is Iyaca Vassi. He’ll get you sarsaparilla, summer sausage, honeydew, or anything we have that you desire.”

Iyaca Vassi was a sandy-haired, clean-faced youth. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old and not Gnomish Young Gnomes had beards from age three.

p-Mayard quickly replied, “We know it’s safe. We’re waiting for Longbeard Nineteen Names. We will pay well for the care of our animals.

The old Gnome said, “Your reputation precedes you, Sorcerer Mayard Klarje. I, Rutie Twenty-names Bager, will attend your goods.”

The Shapechanger gratefully answered, “Ah, Rutie Twenty-names. Though I’ve not before had the pleasure of your acquaintance, I also know your story. Only you have the tenure and tenacity to challenge Storming Norman.”

Rhiann was inwardly relieved. p-Mayard remained convinced he traveled with Mayard in Rhiann-guise and was quite convincing in his role as the elder sorcerer. So far Rhiann’s little slips had not blown his cover. P-Mayard had traveled extensively with Mayard Klarje and knew many of the older Gnomes, though he had met them in his shopkeeper Lennard guise. The Shapechanger struck up conversations and relayed stories of the Hanging Gardens and the Seven Wonders of the Veldt. His stories mesmerized the hard-working farriers and stable boys. Younger Gnomes prodded p-Mayard for demonstrations of Magick, but the wily Shapechanger deftly dodged the requests. Rhiann kept a wary eye on the wagon laden with goods from Thynna, which were dedicated for the miners. True to Rudie’s word no one approached the wagon. In a little while a booming voice heralded the arrival of Longbeard Nineteen-names. Longbeard broke into a long conversation with p-Mayard.

The Shapechanger with subtlety approached Rhiann and asked, “Boss, are you sure you are all right with this arrangement? I mean, I hate for you to miss out on the brewmaster’s wares and know how much you enjoy having a pint or two or three. The Gnomes are convinced you are young Rhiann and I’m not really sure I understand why the deception remains necessary, but I’m pretty sure I can keep them fooled. I hate to leave you here with this horse s***.”

Rhiann in character quipped, “I’d rather deal with horse s*** than the Council of Thynna.”

“My little friend Jacques arrived at Flat Rock and tried to buy prismatic dragon scales and shypoke eggshells. Apparently Kobolds don’t recognize the rareness of these items. The blighter wears an Amulet of Passage, but nonetheless Hobart sent him to me. Jacques seems to have a lot more money than sense. For a kobold, he bore great treasure, no shortage of wealth. I’ve never seen so many rare crystals. Although I allowed him to retain his treasures, I detained and questioned him about Koorlost. It seems Jacques Dawson can’t or won’t keep his mouth shut. He brags of being the personal friend of Lord Boton and avows the Head of the Order of Dark Sorcerers personally gave him the Amulet of Passage. I can’t imagine the Dark Sorcerers letting this character out of their sight.

“Lord Alisskirin, Jacques Dawson describes a Pentagram in detail. The Kobold says he constructed a special room deep beneath Koorlost’s donjon but beyond its outer curtain. Created from the mud of Lovills River, the pentagram in this room bore great significance to Lord Boton, and the Head of the Order of Dark Sorcerers personally supervised the construction. He describes the three walls separating the citadel from the Lovills River. Your observations have confirmed much of what he has said. If what Dawson says is true, we are badly outnumbered on the field. Roaring Gap, the mountains, which separate the plains east of the Laurels and North Rocalina, and the Veldt create geographical barriers and give us a tactical advantage. But Jacques Dawson says the Lords of Koorlost have summoned beings that don’t mind fire and heat. Their great resources allow them to use large numbers of ogres to carry mud and line the wall walk of the outer curtain with trolls. The Veldt poses no barrier to such an army.”

“I have met this Dawson. He is a blowhard. One must take what he says with a whole block of salt, not just a grain. We ought not put much stock in what he says,” Taekora inserted.

“I resemble that remark,” Jacques Dawson’s voice squeaked from the far reaches of the cone of silence. The kobold sauntered into the chamber.

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.”