Banak, Tred, Catti-brie, and Wulfgar all turned to the Mirabarran dwarves, and the pair nodded their agreement with Nanfoodle's assessment.
"Then what would ye have me do, little one?" Banak asked. "Let ye run free down the road to Mirabar?"
Nanfoodle looked to Shoudra, then, smiling, back at the dwarf.
"No," he insisted. "Take me to Regis that I might make my case. In chains, if you must."
He held out his hands to the dwarf, who pushed them aside.
"Ye helped us here. Ye bought us needed time," Banak said. "If ye're wanting to run, now's the time for it. We'll look away long enough for ye to be long gone."
Again Nanfoodle glanced at Shoudra before eyeing the dwarf directly.
"If we thought we could be of no more assistance, we would accept your generous offer, good dwarf." Nanfoodle glanced back to the ridge, where new logs were already piling up, and said, "You must deal with those giants, and I think I can help. So no, I will not leave at this time and will accept the judgment of Steward Regis."
"Sounds like the little one's got a plan," said Catti-brie.
Nanfoodle's smile widened even more.
* * *
Regis sat back in his comfortable chair, dropped his chin into one hand and stared down at the many maps and diagrams Nanfoodle had spread out on the floor.
"I don't understand," he admitted, and he looked to Shoudra.
The sceptrana seemed equally perplexed and could only shrug in response.
"Is he always this abstract?" the halfling asked.
"Always," Shoudra admitted.
In the chair beside Regis, Ivan Bouldershoulder pored over a group of other diagrams Nanfoodle had given him, and it took him some time to realize that the other three were staring his way.
"Easy enough," the dwarf told them, particularly Regis. "The box at least. Simple enough contraption."
"The open-ended metal cylinders will prove no more complicated," Nanfoodle said.
"Agreed, except for the number ye're wanting," said Ivan, and he looked to Regis. "Ye'd have to set every furnace in Mithral Hall working day and night to get it done in time."
Regis shook his head, seeming more perplexed than negative.
"If I am right…" Nanfoodle started to say.
"You don't even know if those tunnels are open," Regis replied. "Nor do you know what you'll find if they are."
"Then let me go and look, at least," said the gnome.
"I can't commit my smiths to the task until we're sure," the steward replied.
Despite the denial, or more so because of the wording of the denial, Nan-foodie's grin nearly took in his abundant ears.
"Yes, go," Regis relented. He looked down at the mass of maps and diagrams and shook his head in disbelief and open skepticism. "It seems a fool's errand, but we have nothing better."
Nanfoodle bowed, again and again, as if he was bobbing with happiness— as indeed he usually was when someone in power offered him the opportunity to chase down another of his often wild proposals. Eventually, he managed to turn back to Ivan, whose reputation as a craftsman had long preceded him to Mithral Hall.
"You will construct the box?" he asked.
"Got all I need," said the dwarf. "Except this flame water potion."
"Leave that to me, when the time is near," Nanfoodle assured him. The brightness on the gnome's face dimmed then, as he added, "Where might I find your brother?"
"Sitting in the dark," Ivan replied. "And I'm wishing ye luck on getting him to go tunneling with ye. He's not much in the mood for anything right now."
"We shall see," said Nanfoodle.
"With your permission, I will return to Master Brawnanvil," Shoudra put in then.
"I feel the fool for trusting you after what he admitted to me," Regis said to her. "I should throw you both in chains and have Marchion Elastul pay a high ransom for your safe return."
Shoudra smiled at him and said, "But you will not."
"Go to Banak," Regis said with a wave of his little hand.
Shoudra started out of the room but paused and looked back as the gracious steward added, "And thank you."
As she left the room, the sceptrana told herself pointedly that when she returned to Mirabar, she would oppose Marchion Elastul's every move against this neighbor and ally.
* * *
As he moved up to the door, Nanfoodle heard the soft, «Oooo» and winced in sympathy for the poor dwarf. The gnome lifted his fist to knock but held back and slowly dropped that hand to the dragon-shaped doorknob and quietly turned the latch. The perfectly balanced and well-oiled portal made not a sound as it swung open.
There sat Pikel in the middle of the floor, head down, his remaining hand absently drawing designs on the stone floor of the room. So distracted and distraught was the green-bearded dwarf that he didn't even look up as Nanfoodle approached, moving right beside him. Every now and then, the dwarf gave another plaintive, "Oooo."
"Does it still hurt?" Nanfoodle quietly asked.
Pikel looked up at him.
"Uh uh," he said, and he waved his stumped forearm in Nanfoodle's direction.
"Then you are sad," Nanfoodle said, and Pikel looked at him as if that should be obvious enough. "Do you believe that you have nothing to offer to Clan Battlehammer now?"
"Eh?" the green-bearded dwarf replied.
He held up his hand and waggled his fingers.
"You are still able to cast your spells then?"
"Yup yup," said Pikel.
"What are you doing there on the floor?" the gnome asked.
He came forward and leaned over the still-sitting Pikel—to see that the dwarf wasn't just sliding his hand over the stone in swirling designs, he was actually swirling the stone itself around. A grin widened on Nanfoodle's face, for that was exactly one of the purposes he had in mind for Pikel Bouldershoulder.
Nanfoodle moved around in front of Pikel and squatted down to look the dwarf directly in the eye.
"Your brother is working for me," he said.
"Eh?"
"I needed a craftsman, an engineer," Nanfoodle explained. "I was told that Ivan was among the best."
"Yup. Hee hee, me brudder."
"And Regis was very interested in telling Ivan to help me because he understands that my plan could well change the battle raging up on top of the cliff." He paused and studied the dwarf to make sure that he had Pikel's attention. "You want to help them, yes?"
Pikel's expression was perfectly perplexed.
"Yup yup."
"You see, I have many different needs right now," Nanfoodle tried to explain. "Important things must be done, but many of the tasks are a bit different than the dwarves could normally offer. Oh, there are a few that Steward Regis knew who might be able to assist me with one task or another, but there was only one name that came through repeatedly, for every task."
"Pikel?" the dwarf asked, pointing to himself—with a finger that was covered in fast-hardening stone.
"Pikel," Nanfoodle confirmed. He pointed down to the designs on the floor. "For that, and because I need help from animals—they won't be injured, I assure you. Not if we are smart and quick."
"Hee hee hee."
It did Nanfoodle's heart good to see that he had brought a smile to the despondent dwarf's face. Pikel seemed such a gentle soul to him; the mere thought of such a person suffering so grievous an injury pained Nanfoodle greatly. But Nanfoodle also understood that Pikel's pain was more emotional than physical, and that, in such cases as his, a person's self-worth was often the greatest casualty.
"Come on," he cheerfully offered to the dwarf, extending his hand to help Pikel to his feet. "We have much to do."