They unloaded the animals, gave them a drink from the stream and tethered them so they could crop the sparse grass and lush underbrush. After the hot dust of the road, the moist air around the little creek smelled fresh and sweet.
Halmarain had slept the least the night before, and she sat leaning against a tree, dozing. Umpth and Grod poked around under the trees, and Beglug munched on a fallen branch held in his right hand, while with his left, he used a second sturdy stick to swat at a squirrel that was well out of reach.
The kender sat by the stream and used the time to redistribute the contents of their pouches, an ongoing chore as well as a favorite pastime.
"Oh, that's nice," Ripple said as Trap examined a cunning sparker, clearly dwarf made. "When did you get it?" she asked, holding out her hand, wanting a closer look.
"I don't know," Trap replied. He handed it to her, but frowned as he tried to remember it. He was certain it had not been in the pouch the day before.
"When, was probably yesterday," Halmarain said sleepily. "And where, was doubtless out of someone's pocket."
"Not true!" Trap said. "I would have remembered it. It's interesting." He pulled several other items from his pouch: a cluster of folded metal rods that opened up to be a roasting rack, a cluster of feathers tied with beaded string, and a small knife with a jeweled handle.
"Someone must have mistaken my pouch for his own," Trap said. "He sure has good stuff. I wish I knew who he was, I know he'd like them back." He also found items he did remember, like the cunning little glass bottle that he had taken from a dwarf's pocket, fingered, and inspected. When he'd tried to return it the dwarf had moved away.
The wizard snorted and closed her eyes as if unwilling to see what else the kender might pull from his pouch.
Ripple was the next one to be surprised. "I didn't think I had so many steel pieces," she said. "No wonder this pouch felt so heavy." She frowned, searched in another pouch and pulled out a small leather drawstring bag. "Here are mine. Where did these come from?" She held up a hand, heaped with coins.
The conversation brought Halmarain to full wakeful-ness. She sat up and glared at the kender.
"You've been helping yourself to Orander's purse!" she accused.
"I have not!" Ripple denied heatedly.
"No, she hasn't," Trap held up the wizard's coin bag, red with runes around the sides. "It's so full another piece would cause it to split."
Halmarain came over and took the purse from Trap, first looking in it, then turning it in her hands.
"Orander never mentioned his purse was magic," she said slowly. "I've never heard of any spell that could constantly replenish coins. If there is one I'd think every wizard would be wealthy." Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at Trap. "You did pay for our room last night…"
"Of course I did," he said. "The innkeeper wasn't a trusting person, which, I'd think, would be bad for business. I mean how many people want to be accused of sneaking out without paying their bills before they even get a room. I had to pay for it in advance."
"Are you certain?"
Her constant accusations were making Trap angry. She had just handed him back the purse, but he threw it back at her.
"If you don't trust me, you keep it," he snapped.
"Wizard, wizard, warm as a blizzard," Ripple taunted, also angry at Halmarain's doubts.
"Take us she must, but gives us no trust," Trap added, falling into the sibling game of rhyming taunts.
"Complain, complain, that's Halmarain," Ripple capped him.
"That's enough!" Halmarain snapped.
"Fuss and fight, all day all night," Trap said, laughing as if his joke was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
"Argle, bargle, gasp and gargle," Ripple threw herself back on the bed of fallen leaves by the stream, cackling with glee. "I have heard all I want to hear!" the wizard shouted.
"Moan and shout and flounce about!" Trap rolled into a ball, laughing until tears streamed down his cheeks.
"One more word and you'll end your lives as frogs!" the wizard threatened. "I-"
The gully dwarves' wagon wheel interrupted Halmarain as it came hurtling along the stream bank from the direction of the road. The wheel nearly ran her down. Umpth and Grod followed it.
"Pony come," Umpth said.
"I keep away with magic," Grod said. "Find good magic." He waved a dead squirrel at them. By the flatness of the upper body, the little animal lost its life to a wagon wheel, one attached to a fully loaded cart.
"Beglug!" Ripple said, leaping to her feet, the argument forgotten.
"Repack your pouches, I'll take him into the woods," Halmarain said, dashing away.
The kender stuffed their belongings back in their pouches and retied the fasteners. They gave Umpth the pack that held Beglug's extra clothing and were standing by the stream, watching when six dwarves came in sight and slowed their mounts. They pointed at the woods and the stream. Clearly they also wanted to escape the heat of the road.
Grod stood waving his dead squirrel about as if he were warding off bad luck. The two kender, delighted at the prospect of meeting new people, rushed to the eaves of the copse by the road.
"Hello!" Trap called out. "This is a great place. It's cooler under the trees and the water in the stream is cold. Come and join us."
The two kender stood smiling at the six dwarves, Nei-dar by the fashion of their armor and clothing. They rode tough little hill ponies.
"A kender," said one of the dwarves. "It could be the one with that outlaw band."
"Oh, we're not outlaws, we're just traveling with a wiz-"
"A wizzy-waddle bunch of ponies, a couple of Aghar and some Neidar," Ripple said quickly, covering her brother's slip of the tongue. "The others are gathering firewood."
"Firewood? In this heat?" the dwarf leader said suspiciously. "Are you sure you're not with that outlaw band?"
"We've heard there is a kender outlaw," Ripple said, but only one kender outlaw and as you see there are two of us."
"Outlaw, him dead," Grod said. "Make good tale, that."
Chapter 15
The six dwarves were adult males, but still young, Trap decided, since they had no gray in their beards. They carried heavy axes and crossbows. The ponies smelled water and strained at the reins. The dwarves muttered together and one dismounted, carrying his axe as he stepped into the shadows. His belt bristled with knives and two large bovine horns rose from his helmet. His headgear would serve as a deadly weapon if he butted an enemy with it.
Still half blinded by the sun, he nearly collided with Grod.
The gully dwarf apparently thought the new arrival was about to attack him and leaped away and shook his dead squirrel at the Neidar.
"Make you frog," Grod warned. The gully dwarf's dodge had taken him into an area where the shade was speckled with shafts of sunlight. He had removed his helmet because of the heat, and a shaft of light struck his blond head, making it glow. Another shaft illuminated the dead squirrel. With the rest of his body in deep shade, his head and the little carcass seemed to be floating in the air.
The dwarf glared at Grod for a moment and lowered his weapon. "It's an Aghar," he shouted back to his friends. The simple statement carried the implication that no self-respecting band of outlaws would have gully dwarves as members. The rest of the party rode into the shade of the trees and dismounted. The last three dwarves led ponies loaded with boxes and bundles.