Nanfoodle gave a snort and a shake of his head.
"If only that were so," said the gnome.
Regis froze in place, resisting the urge to fall back in his chair. He gave the pendant another spin.
"Indeed, if only!" he enthusiastically agreed. "So tell me, good gnome, why have you really come?"
* * *
The hair on the back of Shoudra Stargleam's neck rose inexplicably when a dwarf informed her that her friend was sitting with Steward Regis, and had been for more than two hours. The sceptrana moved along the corridors, half-running and often slowing as she tried to sort things out. Why was she so bothered and nervous, after all, for wasn't Nanfoodle a reliable companion?
She came into an anteroom where a trio of dwarves stood calmly, each holding a nasty-looking polearm.
"Well met yerself," one of them said to Shoudra, and he motioned for the door to the audience room.
A second dwarf, standing beside the door, pushed it open, and Shoudra heard laughter from within and saw the glow of a comfortable fire. Still, she didn't calm down; something wasn't sitting well with her. She moved to the opening and peered in to see Nanfoodle laughing stupidly on one cushy chair, while a more sober Regis, his wounded arm back in its supporting sling, sat across from him.
"So nice of you to join us, Sceptrana Shoudra," the halfling said, and he motioned to the empty chair.
Shoudra took one step into the room, then jerked suddenly as the door slammed behind her.
"Nanfoodle and I were just discussing the disposition of the relationship between our respective communities," Regis explained, and again he indicated the empty chair to the unmoving sceptrana.
Shoudra hardly heard him, for her attention followed her scan around the room. The walls were all hung with tapestries, save the one that held the hearth, and the heavy hangings were not flat against the wall. Shoudra's gaze went lower, and she noted the toes of more than one pair of boots below the bottom fringe.
Slowly, the sceptrana turned her gaze to Regis.
"It is an interesting relationship, don't you agree," the halfling said, and there was no missing the sudden change in his tone.
"One we hope to strengthen," Shoudra replied, her gaze going to the obviously drunk Nanfoodle.
"Truly?" Regis asked.
Shoudra turned back to him.
"To strengthen our relationship by weakening Mithral Hall's orc?" the half-ling asked, and he pulled a large pouch out from behind him on the chair and tossed it on the floor at Shoudra's feet.
Shoudra slowly bent and retrieved the pouch but didn't even have to open it to know what was inside: Nanfoodle's weakening solution.
The sceptrana turned her stunned expression over the gnome, who burst out in great laughter and nearly fell off the chair.
"My new friend Nanfoodle told me everything," Regis stated.
He snapped his fingers in the air, and the tapestries were pulled aside, revealing a trio of grim-faced dwarves. The door behind Shoudra opened as well, and the sceptrana knew that polearms were aimed at her back.
"He has told me," Regis went on, "of how you came here on orders of the marchion to sabotage our orc. Of how Mirabar intended to wage a trade war upon Mithral Hall through such means, to ruin our reputation and steal our customers."
Shoudra began to shake her head.
"You must understand …" she started.
"Understand?" Regis interrupted. "Weakened metal in our hands as we battle the orc hordes? Weakened metal on the barricades we construct to keep the monsters out of our halls? What is there to understand, Sceptrana?"
"We didn't know you were at war!" Shoudra blurted.
"Oh, then of course your spying and espionage are not so important!" came the halfling's sarcastic reply.
"No, you must understand the temperament of Marchion Elastul," Shoudra tried to explain. She moved beside Nanfoodle as he spoke and casually draped an arm across his shoulders. "This is his … his way. Marchion Elastul fears Mithral Hall, and so he instructed Nanfoodle and I to come here and learn if Torgar was divulging the secrets of Mirabar. You must admit that Mithral Hall has gained a sudden advantage in the trade war, with four hundred of Mirabar's dwarves deserting our city to come to yours."
"Yes, a tremendous advantage with hordes of orcs knocking on our doors."
"We did not know." Shoudra took a deep breath and went on, "And I doubt that Nanfoodle or I would have had the heart to cause any mischief even if there was no war. Neither of us approve of the marchion's tactics here, nor of his disposition concerning King Bruenor and Mithral Hall. We two seek a better way."
"You would say that now, of course," Regis interrupted.
Shoudra closed her eyes and blew a long sigh, then began muttering under her breath.
"Take them and lock them away—and separately," Regis instructed.
The six dwarves advanced on the pair, but then they were gone, winking out of sight.
"The door!" Regis cried, and the dwarf closest the exit rushed back and slammed the portal shut.
Shoudra and a very surprised-looking Nanfoodle appeared suddenly on the far side of the room, and the dwarves hooted and charged.
They disappeared again, reappearing a few moments later in front of the hearth.
"She's casting again! Stop her!" Regis cried, noting Shoudra's renewed chant.
"Watch for fireballs!" cried the dwarf by the door.
He pulled it open, and Shoudra and Nanfoodle appeared right there, as fortune would have it. The dwarf fell away with a shriek.
Nanfoodle giggled stupidly, and Shoudra yanked him out of the room and into a run through the anteroom and out into the corridor, chased every step by the shouting dwarves.
"You silly gnome!" Shoudra scolded, and Nanfoodle giggled even more.
With the dwarves gaining and Nanfoodle lagging, Shoudra gave an exasperated growl and scooped Nanfoodle up.
They went through a door, which Shoudra shut and promptly barred, and out the other side of the room into another corridor. On they ran for the western gate, cries of alarm sounding all around them.
Soon the dwarves had them located once more, a dozen shouts echoing down every side passage they crossed. Finally, the pair turned into the long main corridor, which ended on a wide landing lined by statues of the kings of Mithral Hall. A descending staircase beyond that landing led to a smaller room and across that the last rays of daylight were streaming through the great hall's open western doors.
Doors that weren't to remain open for long, Shoudra realized, for dwarves down there were already pushing aside the doorstops, while others were forming a defensive line across the opening.
"Well, they got us," Nanfoodle said with a chuckle. "Time for torture!"
"Shut up, you fool," Shoudra scolded.
She looked all around, then at the last moment, tugged Nanfoodle into the shadows behind the nearest statue. And not a moment too soon, for a group of dwarves came charging through the moment they were out of sight, all of them shouting to, "Hold the door!" or, "Bar the way!"
Nanfoodle started to cry out in response, but Shoudra clamped a hand over his mouth and held him tight. She took a deep breath and gathered her courage, then she peeked out at the outside door and the area beyond. After finally calming the drunken gnome, the sceptrana began to cast another spell.
She whispered out a chant and the tips of her two index fingers began to glow bright blue. With them, the sceptrana then drew out the lines of a door in the air.
"There!" came a shout—Regis's shout, and Shoudra glanced back to see the halfling and a group of dwarves charging her way.
Without hesitation, the sceptrana hoisted Nanfoodle once more, and as the great western doors of Mithral Hall banged closed, she carried Nanfoodle through her portal.