"That would include Drizzt," Catti-brie remarked, and the thought had Regis stammering as he tried to continue.
"Don't fret," Catti-brie offered. "The choice won't be your own for long. Banak's thinking he's got less than a tenday before the giants bring their catapults to bear—and we won't be stopping them this time. Once those great engines of war begin throwing, he'll have to retreat or be wiped out."
"And if they get the high ground above Keeper's Dale, we'll have no choice but to come inside. All of us," Regis said.
"And if they're thinking of coming in behind us, we'll cut them down," Catti-brie grimly offered.
It seemed a hollow potential to Regis, though, understanding that all of it— the fighting and the timing—was being controlled by their enemies.
Catti-brie pulled herself out of her chair.
"I'm to be heading back to Banak," she stated.
She pulled up Taulmaril from the side of her chair and slung the bow over her shoulder in a determined and even angry motion. But Regis could see the weariness creeping behind that determination.
Before the woman even turned to leave, there came a knock on the door, and in walked the two emissaries from Mirabar, the gnome's arms filled with dozens of rolled parchments.
"We can do it," Nanfoodle declared before anyone even had the chance for proper greetings. "We can do it!"
"Do it?" Catti-brie asked, turning to Regis.
Regis held up his hand to stop the questions from the woman.
"As you suspected?" the halfling asked the gnome.
"Of course," said Nanfoodle. "And fortune is with us, for the deposit is under the northern edges of Keeper's Dale and close enough to open tunnels so that we will not need to dig through much stone at all."
"What's the little one talking about?" Catti-brie quietly demanded.
Nanfoodle bobbed over, a more somber Shoudra in tow.
"With the help of Pikel Bouldershoulder, we can string the metal tubes in short order," Nanfoodle explained. "Within a single day, if you offer enough dwarves to aid us."
"Tubes?" Catti-brie asked, and she looked from Nanfoodle to Shoudra, who merely shrugged, then back to Regis.
"What do you know of it?" Regis asked the sceptrana.
"I know that Nanfoodle is excited by the prospects," Shoudra replied, stating the obvious, for the little gnome was bobbing about, hopping from foot to foot.
"We can do it, Steward Regis," Nanfoodle insisted. "Only give the word and I will commence the organization of the workers. Twenty should accomplish the task, along with Pikel, Ivan, and myself. More than that would likely get in each others' way! Ha ha!"
"Regis?" Catti-brie demanded more insistently.
The halfling put his palms over his eyes and blew a deep sigh. He was surprised by the gnome's success in finding the gasses, and not necessarily pleasantly surprised. For despite Nanfoodle's obvious exuberance, that new development only upped the stakes for troubled Regis. True, he had diverted his forges to satisfy the gnome's requirements for "tubes," but that action had involved little real risk, after all. To move forward with the gnome's planning, the halfling steward would have to order dwarves into dangerous battle, with the risks much greater to all of them, particularly to Banak and his forces on the northern cliff.
And what would happen if Nanfoodle proved correct and brought his plan to fruition?
A shudder coursed through Regis's spine, and he turned to Catti-brie. "Can we take the tunnels underneath the ridge again?"
"Below the giants?"
"That ridge, yes."
The woman looked again at the gnome, curiously, then sat back and considered the problem. She had no idea of how determinedly the orcs were holding those tunnels, with the giants in place above. Likely the resistance would be greatly diminished, since the strategic importance of the labyrinth seemed negligible.
"I would expect that we could," she answered.
Nanfoodle gave a little squeal and punched his fist into the air.
"Won't be an easy fight, though," the woman added, just to dampen the little one's spirits a bit.
Regis looked from Nanfoodle to Shoudra and back again, then back at Shoudra, his eyes asking her quite clearly to help him, to tell him if he could really trust the gnome's wild planning. The woman, apparently catching the cue, gave the slightest of nods.
"How long before those giant catapults come to bear?" the halfling asked Catti-brie again.
"Within the tenday," she replied. "Might be as few as three days."
"Then go to Banak and prepare a force. Get me the tunnels back the morning after next," the steward instructed. "Nanfoodle will send up specifics this very afternoon."
"Ivan Bouldershoulder will meet you up there with instructions," the gnome put in.
"You think ye might be telling me what this is all about?" Catti-brie asked.
Regis looked to the other two again, then he snorted and shrugged. "I'm afraid to do that," he admitted. "You would not believe me, and if you did, you might just cut me down where I sit."
All eyes went to Nanfoodle then, the obvious architect of all of it all. "We can do it," the little gnome assured them.
* * *
Tred McKnuckles came upon Torgar Hammerstriker and Ivan Bouldershoulder shortly after hearing that Banak had put out a call for volunteers to go and retake the tunnels beneath the western ridge. The pair were distracted as Tred approached, and so they did not seem to notice him. Their attention was fixed upon a small box held by Torgar, one side of it as shiny as any mirror, the other three, and top and bottom, smooth wood.
"Well met," the dwarf of Citadel Felbarr greeted the pair.
"And to yerself," said Ivan.
Torgar nodded and smiled, then went back to inspecting the box.
"Is yerself to lead the fight for the tunnels?" Tred asked Torgar. "Might that I could be joinin' ye?"
"Aye, and aye," Torgar replied. "We'll be going in the morning to drive them smelly orcs out. Me and me boys'll welcome yer company."
"Any word on why?" Tred asked. "I'm not thinkin' we can get to them stinking giants from the holes beneath 'em."
Torgar and Ivan exchanged a grin, and Torgar held up the box.
"Here's why," he explained.
Tred reached for it, but Torgar pulled it back.
"Handle it carefully," the dwarf warned.
"Full o' the oil from me darts," Ivan explained, and he slipped his hand under his bandoleer of explosive crossbow darts and held it forward. "And a concoction the little gnome made—bottle of firewater that blows up when it touches the air."
Tred scrunched up his face and retracted his hand.
"We're going in with bombs, then?" Tred asked.
"Nah, we'll use our axes and hammers to be rid of the durned orcs," said Torgar. "The bombs're for later."
Tred looked curiously from dwarf to dwarf, but both of them merely shrugged and returned his expression.
"It's all beyond us," Torgar admitted. "But Banak's wanting them tunnels taken, and so we're for taking them. We'll see what magic the gnome's got later on."
"Could be worse," Ivan put in. "Least we're getting to smash some orcs." "Always a good thing," Torgar agreed, and Tred nodded.
* * *
"Eleven-hunnerd more feet!" Wocco Brawnanvil cried when Nanfoodle laid out the diagrams before him.
"Eleven hundred and thirty," Nanfoodle corrected.
"Ye'll tie up all the forges for another tenday, ye stupid gnome!"
"Another tenday?" asked the gnome. "Oh no, I need this tomorrow—all of it. My assistants will be pulling it right out of the cooling troughs, piece by piece."
Wocco sputtered for several moments, his flapping lips forming curse after curse, but his incredulity beating every word back before it could get out.
"Seven foot lengths," he finally managed to say. "It's a hunnerd and fifty pieces!"