"We just goes there and takes it-a boat," Regal explained.
The others in the dark and smelly saloon agreed with a whole hearted chorus of nods and belches.
"Lotsa boats!" proclaimed one expansively.
"Get big one!" urged a comrade.
"No, a fast one!" insisted another.
"I like a boat with lotta legs," explained Duck Bigdwarf, giving Tarn a bleary but scrutinizing look.
"Legs?" Tarn was taken by surprise, until he thought for a moment. "Oh, you mean oars, I suppose. Yes, we have to get one with legs. Reorx knows the chain boats aren't going to get us there."
Accompanied by a boisterous mob of gully dwarves, Tarn rose and made his way outside of the dingy inn. He took care this time to avoid smashing his head on the outcrop of rock. Surrounded by a chorus of voices-"What boat that? Go see! Your boots make good boat!" — they climbed to the crest of a large rock where they could get a view of the Daerforge waterfront. Dozens of gully dwarves had appeared, and the whole party was gathered along the steeply sloping surface of Agharhome.
The docks of the dark dwarf port city were clearly visible along the curve of the shoreline. They all saw the wreckage created when a part of the second level had collapsed to spill across some of the waterfront. The farther expanse of the broad wharves behind the pile of rock and steel left in the wake of the collapse teemed with activity. There, dozens of boats freshly arrived from Hybardin jostled for position as their crews tried desperately to scramble ashore. Everywhere the place was teeming with agitated dark dwarves. Tarn didn't see any way he and the Aghar could even get close to-much less steal-one of the watercraft without being spotted.
"See! Comes a fireflier!" cried one gully dwarf.
Tarn stared in horror as the flaming outline of a massive dragon soared over their heads. He flinched unconsciously, though the mighty creature paid no attention to the insignificant specks on the ground so far below. Instead, as Tarn watched in astonishment, the beast soared toward the upper level of Daerforge, toward the twin towers high up on the cliff. With a flexing of those great wings the creature came to rest on the broad outer balcony of his mother's house.
Tarn saw the black creature dismount from the dragon's back. With a sense of utter disbelief he spotted two small figures coming into view. He could recognize neither at a distance, but the bronze helmet on the head of one of them might as well have been a beacon proclaiming his mother's presence. Garimeth was wearing the Helm of Tongues, and she was greeting-now she was being embraced! — by this harbinger of Chaos.
For a long time the monstrous warrior seemed to speak to the Daergar. It seemed to Tarn that his mother did a great deal of talking in return. And then he saw the strange being prostrate himself at the dwarfwoman's feet! Finally the black rider returned to its fiery mount and soared into the skies on a course for Hybardin. Tarn was certain of one thing: some kind of nefarious deal had been struck.
Stunned, he tried to consider the ramifications of this development. Soon after, as Tarn watched, a party of dark dwarves, including the still-helmeted Garimeth Bellowsmoke, emerged from the house and started down the road toward the waterfront.
"What now, Regal Wiseallatime?" asked Duck Bigdwarf patiently. He gestured at the expanse of stormy sea, blazing fireballs, and wracked Hybardin. "This boring!"
"Wait for him, I say," Regal retorted, skeptically regarding Tarn. "He our leader. That is, if he ever do something."
Angrily Tarn shook his head, thinking. Why was his mother heading to the boat dock and still wearing that helm? Looking out over the sea Tarn saw the inverted cone of the Life-Tree, now scarred by countless fires, pocked by the ravages of destructive Chaos. The fire dragon must have returned there. In an instant of clarity he knew where Garimeth would be going with the treasure she had stolen from his father.
"Okay you've convinced me," he said and turned to the gully dwarves, who erupted in a spontaneous cheer. Scrutinizing the dark dwarf city again, Tarn suddenly saw a possibility-not really an opportunity perhaps, but at least the ghost of a chance. "See there," he told Regal, "on the closest part of the waterfront?"
"Right. Where rocks spilled, dock not so big on this side."
"No, nor so crowded." He studied that part of Daerforge where the collapse had isolated a small section of the waterfront. There were some dark dwarves and a few boats along the edge but nothing like the crowds that thronged on the other side of the lakeshore. "It's cut off almost completely from the rest of the city," he explained, his pulse quickening.
"Not so many boats there," Regal demurred. "We wanta choose from lotsa boats."
"But not so many dark dwarves, either," the half-breed countered. "And believe me, once you've been in a few boats you realize that they're all pretty much the same."
"I dunno." Regal was still skeptical, but he and his fellow Aghar nevertheless followed Tarn as he filed through the channels and ravines of the gully dwarf city. "Main Street Number One," noted Regal, though Tarn could see no way that this path was an extension of the subterranean pipe that had also been labeled as "Main Street Number One."
Nearing the edge of Daerforge, Tarn started down a steep descent. Abruptly one of his boots slipped, and he skidded several feet down the tumbling ravine. Quickly he recovered his balance and, still muttering curses, climbed to his feet. Beside him was a motionless gully dwarf. For a moment he feared he had knocked and dragged the fellow down with his own clumsiness.
"Sorry friend. Can I give you a hand?"
Then he saw the arrow. A steel shaft had punctured the Aghar's neck from behind. Tarn knew the gully dwarf was quite dead.
"An arrow, and poisoned too!" he hissed through clenched teeth, immediately turning to scour the heights.
He could see no sign of the mysterious attacker as the other gully dwarves gathered around.
"Poor Rocco," Regal said sadly. "At least he got to walk right in front of you. That what he wanted."
"And he was shot right after I stumbled," Tarn realized, the knowledge bringing a prickle of alarm.
He didn't speak the rest of the deduction aloud, but it was a certainty in his own mind. That deadly arrow had in fact been intended for Tarn Bellowsmoke, not the unfortunate Aghar named Rocco. But who had shot at him, and why? He wondered if his mother had sent an assassin after him after she had discovered the escape. But he couldn't believe that she would stoop to something so evil as killing her own son.
Again he studied the rising ground behind them, seeing no sign of the attacker. They started down again, but now Tarn led them through some of the deepest trenches and urged the group into a ragged trot when they had to cross the occasional stretches of open ground. They could see several boats along the nearer section of the shoreline, as well as a few more pulling this way as their crews strived to reach the dark dwarf city. The "Main Street" took a dramatic downhill turn, becoming indistinguishable from a natural ravine, and Tarn felt some relief as they were able to follow the deep cut steadily toward the lake shore.
Finally they reached a shelf of rock directly above the flat stretch of Daerforge's docks. The water of the Urkhan Sea, still roiling from the Chaos storm, smashed against the solid stone bulwark of the wharf a short stone's throw away. Several rock piers jutted like stubby fingers into the water, but there were no boats docked close by. However, this section of the waterfront was concealed from the view of the rest of the city by the sloping pile of rubble that had been spilled by the collapse.
"Look! Here comes a boat!" cried Regal, standing up and pointing until Tarn grabbed his shoulder and quickly pulled him back to cover.