That did it. Picturing himself bruised and beardless, Goпmgar fled, vanishing into the bustling town.
"Stop!" Tungdil shouted after him, but the artisan didn't look back. I should have known this would happen. Tungdil fixed Bavragor and Boпndil with a stony glare. "Congratulations," he said with heavy sarcasm. "How extraordinarily helpful of you both! We're on an urgent mission and thanks to your childish taunting, a vital member of our company has taken to his heels. Perhaps a nice game of hide-and-seek will take our minds off the fact that we're surrounded by orcs.'" This time Tungdil didn't bother to conceal his rage; he wanted them to know how furious he was.
Bavragor and Boпndil stared sheepishly at the floor.
"He nearly got us killed," ventured Bavragor.
"Says who?" snapped Tungdil. "You didn't let him finish. You had only the guard's word for what happened and you threatened to beat him up."
"Why else would he take off like that?" protested Boпndil. "If that's not the sign of a guilty conscience, I don't know what is!"
"Unbelievable: The one time you're in agreement, and it has to be this. Once we've tracked down Goпmgar, we'll get to the bottom of the matter-by discussing it calmly.''' He scanned the streets and spotted a tavern. "I want the two of you"-he nodded at Bavragor and Boпndil-"to take yourselves over there and wait at a table for Boлndal and me to return. Don't get into any arguments-and remember what I told you about dealing with humans."
Bavragor scratched his beard. "But where are you going?"
"To find Goпmgar, of course! Do you think he'd show himself in front of you? You scared the living daylights out of him." Tungdil hurried off, signaling to Boлndal to follow.
Bavragor and Boпndil did as instructed and found themselves a table in the tavern. They ordered a hot meal to fill their bellies and a tankard of beer to while away the time.
The other drinkers stared in open amazement at the two dwarves whose mail was covered in orcs' blood. Stone-faced, the pair returned their glances and focused grimly on their meal.
At last Boпndil emptied his tankard and took the first step toward ending their feud. "Listen, about what happened between me and-"
Bavragor held up a hand to silence him. "I don't want to hear it," he said, spurning the attempt at a truce. "I wish she'd never had anything to do with you. I told her so from the beginning, but she was too stubborn to listen. Don't expect me to forgive you, because I won't; I want you to be tortured by your conscience for the rest of your life." He poured the contents of his tankard down his gullet and burped. "After what you did, I don't even want to share a table with you."
He got up and strode to the door. "Tell Tungdil that I've gone to buy a pony."
Boпndil watched him go and bit his lip. The publican brought him another tankard of beer.
Meanwhile, Boлndal and Tungdil had split up and were scouring the streets of Mifurdania in search of Goпmgar. Tungdil had made straight for the battlements and was reeling from his first bird's-eye view of the town.
The sheer number of houses was incredible. Mifurdania consisted of nothing but roofs, the solid expanse of thatching and tiles interrupted only by marketplaces or temples. A dwarf on the run from a beating and an unwanted shave would find no shortage of places to hide.
Tungdil permitted himself a final sigh, then put his mind to finding Goпmgar. Before he made his way down into the jumble of houses and streets, he crossed over to the other side of the battlements and looked out at the forest. For the time being, the orcs had retreated and were setting up camp among the trees. There could be no further doubt that Mifurdania was under siege. We're trapped, he thought glumly.
Tungdil started down the street that the fourthling had taken. At first he called out Goпmgar's name, but after a while he fell silent, discouraged by the townspeople's stares.
It seemed to him that Goпmgar's disappearance was the predictable outcome of the quarreling among the group. Please, Vraccas, help me find him. He peered down every alleyway and searched every courtyard, but the missing fourthling was nowhere to be found.
At length he came to a marketplace where a man in bright garments was standing on a platform, ringing a bell and shouting at the top of his voice.
"Roll up, Mifurdanians, roll up for Theater Curiosum and learn the truth about Nudin the Knowledge-Lusty. Witness the grisly circumstances leading to his reincarnation as Nфd'onn the Doublefold and resulting in Girdlegard's demise," he called stirringly. "Marvel at our celebrated actor, the fabulous Rodario; be transported by Furgas, the best prop master in Girdlegard; allow yourselves to be spirited away to a world where the sun always shines!"
The man took a sip from his hip flask, seized his torch, and sent a tongue of fire crackling over the townspeople's heads.
"Mifurdanians, for one orbit only this rare entertainment can be viewed in our magnificent theater for the bargain price of three small coins. Don't delay a moment longer-we won't be performing tomorrow if the orcs have their way!" There was scattered laughter from the crowd as he mimed his own beheading. "What are you waiting for, Mifurdanians? Roll up and join the queue!" He motioned to the building behind him. "The players are ready and the spectacle awaits! Leave your worries at the door!"
The townspeople were already streaming through the double doors, glad of the chance to forget their woes.
Tungdil clambered onto the platform. "Excuse me," he asked the man, "have you seen a fellow who looks a bit like me?"
"Like you?" The man grinned. "You're not exactly the ordinary type." He made a show of rolling his eyes and squinting; then his features fell back into place. "Hang on a minute; he wouldn't be a bit scrawnier, would he? Scrawnier, but with a bushier beard?" Tungdil nodded. "In that case, he's in the Curiosum already." Tungdil leaped down from the platform and joined the back of the queue.
He paid for a seat in one of the boxes in order to get a better view. It seemed a strange time for Goпmgar to be cultivating a passion for the arts. Maybe he thinks Bavragor and Boпndil won't find him if he hides among the crowd.
The auditorium was shaped like a circle with a raised platform at the center, allowing the stage to be seen from every side.
Tungdil noticed that the building was made entirely of wood. The stalls and galleries groaned with the weight of the audience, but the theater bore the strain valiantly.
Perfume and perspiration battled for mastery of Tungdil's nose. He caught a whiff of petroleum from the lamps in the rafters, the lone source of light in the windowless room. The noise of the chattering spectators made him think of a gaggle of geese.
Tungdil found his seat in a narrow booth with flimsy walls. The hard wooden bench was so low that he had to perch on the backrest and place his feet on the cushions in order to see the stage. Come on, Goпmgar, where are you? he thought impatiently.
His brown eyes searched the audience without discovering the familiar features of the dwarf.
He must be somewhere, he thought. He could only hope that Goпmgar was seated on the other side of the theater, hidden from view by the crimson curtains that were draped around the stage. He waited patiently for the performance to begin.
Suddenly the lights went out and the voices dropped to a whisper. A tense silence descended on the room.
The first soft notes sounded from the orchestra, inviting the spectators to enter the actors' world. The musicians, seated in a separate gallery, continued the melody, while a winch squealed into action and the curtain went up on the stage. Tungdil found himself looking at a grassy plateau.
The scenery was so convincing that he almost had to pinch himself. He could practically feel the wind and smell the soil.
Overhead, daylight flooded into the theater as prop hands unveiled the windows in the roof. The glass panels were arranged in such a way that only the stage was illuminated, leaving the wings and the rest of the auditorium shrouded in gloom.