“A band of gnomes followed the Graygem across the sea, hoping still to catch it and claim it for their own. But it was a human, a man named Gargath, who trapped the stone and held it in his castle by certain newly acquired magical means. Reaching the castle, the gnomes could see the light of the Graygem illuminating the countryside. They demanded that Gargath give the stone up. He refused. The gnomes threatened war”—shouts and cheers among the gnomes here—“Gargath welcomed the battle. He built a high wall all around the castle to protect it and the gem. There was no way the gnomes could get over the wall, so they left, vowing, however, to return.”
“Hear! Hear!” cried the gnomes.
“A month later, a gnome army arrived at Castle Gargath with a huge, steam-powered siege engine. It reached the wall of the castle, but broke down just short of its goal. The gnomes retreated with heavy losses. Two months later, the gnomes returned with an even larger steam-powered siege engine. This engine plowed into the first, caught fire, and burned. The gnomes retreated with even heavier losses. Three months later, the gnomes were back with a humongous, steam-powered siege engine. It lumbered over the ashes of the first two siege engines and was thundering toward the wall when the drive mechanism broke down. The engine, with a mighty groan, toppled over on its side, smashing down the wall. Although not quite what they’d had in mind, the gnomes were delighted.”
More cheering.
“But, as they rushed through the breach in the wall, a steel gray light beamed forth from the stone, blinding everyone. When Lord Gargath could see again, he saw—to his astonishment—that the gnomes were fighting among themselves!”
Frowns here and cries of “Liar! We were misquoted!”
“One faction of gnomes was demanding that they be given the Graygem to carve up and turn into wealth. The other faction demanded that they be given the Graygem to take apart and see how it worked.
“As the two sides fought, their aspect changed thus were born the races of the dwarves, who carve rock and think constantly of wealth; and kender, driven by their insatiable curiosity to roam the world. The Graygem escaped during the confusion and was last seen heading westward, a party of gnomes and Lord Gargath in pursuit. And that,” finished Palin, somewhat out of breath, “is the story of the Graygem—unless you ask a dwarf, that is.”
“Why? What do the dwarves say?” demanded Tanin, looking at Dougan with a somewhat sickly grin.
Dougan fetched up a sigh that might have come from the tips of his black shoes. “The dwarves have always maintained that they are the chosen of Reorx, that he forged their race out of love, and that gnomes and kender came about from trial and error until he got it right.” Boos. The gnomes appeared highly indignant, but were instantly subdued by Dougan, whirling around and fixing them with a piercing stare. “According to the dwarves, Reorx created the Graygem to give them as a gift and it was stolen by the gnomes.” More boos, but these hushed immediately.
“Well, it seems to me,” said Sturm, with another yawn, “that the only one who knows the true story is Reorx.”
“Not quite, lad,” said Dougan, looking uncomfortable. “For, you see, I know the true story. And that is why I’m on this quest.”
“Which is right, then?” asked Tanin, with a wink at Palin.
“Neither,” said Dougan, appearing even more uncomfortable. His head drooped down, his chin buried itself in his beard, while his hands fumbled at the golden buttons on his sopping-wet velvet coat. “You ... uh ... you see,” he mumbled, making it extremely difficult for anyone to hear him over the splashing of the sea and the flapping of fish on the deck, “Reorx ... uh... losttheGraygeminagameofbones.”
“What?” asked Palin, leaning forward.
“Helostit,” muttered the dwarf.
“I still didn’t hear—”
“HE LOST THE DAMN GEM IN A GAME OF BONES!” Dougan roared angrily, lifting his face and glaring around him. Terrified, the gnomes immediately scattered in all directions, more than a few getting conked on the head by the sail as it whizzed past. “Morgion, god of decay and disease, tricked Reorx into making the gem, knowing that if chaos were loosed in the world, his evil power would grow. He challenged Reorx to a game, with the Graygem as the stakes and ...” The dwarf fell silent, scowling down at his shoes.
“He gambled it in away in a bones game?” Sturm finished in amazement.
“Aye, lad,” said Dougan, sighing heavily. “You see, Reorx has one little flaw. Just a tiny flaw, mind you, otherwise he is as fine and honorable a gentleman as one could hope to meet. But”—the dwarf heaved another sigh—“he does love his bottle, and he does love a good wager.”
“Oh, so you know Reorx, do you?” Sturm said with a yawn that cracked his jaws.
“I’m proud to say so,” said Dougan seriously, stroking his beard and curling his moustache. “And, with his help, I’ve managed after all these years to locate the Graygem. With the assistance of these lads here”—he smote a passing gnome on the shoulder, completely bowling the little fellow over—“and with the help of you three fine young men, we’ll recover it and... and ...” Dougan stopped, seeming confused.
“And?”
“And return it to Reorx, naturally,” the dwarf said, shrugging.
“Naturally,” Tanin responded. Glancing over at Sturm, who had fallen asleep on the deck, the big man caught a gnome in the act of making off with his brother’s helm. “Hey!” cried Tanin angrily, collaring the thief.
“Ijustwantedtolookatit!” whined the gnome, cringing. “Iwasgoingtogiveitbackhonest. You see,” he said, talking more slowly as Tanin released his grip, “we have developed a revolutionary new design in helms. There are just a few problems with it, such as getting it off one’s head, and I—”
“Thank you, we’re not interested,” Tanin growled, yanking the helm away from the gnome, who was admiring it lovingly. “C’mon, Little Brother,” he said, turning to Palin. “Help me get Sturm to bed.”
“Where is bed?” Palin asked tiredly. “And, no, I’m not going back into that foul-smelling hold again.”
“Me either,” Tanin said. He looked around the deck and pointed.
“That lean-to-looking thing over there seems to be about the best place. At least it'll be dry.”
He indicated several wooden planks that had been skillfully and ingeniously fit together to form a small shelter.
Leaning against the hull, the planks were beneath the sail as it rumbled past, and protected those lying within from water and falling fish.
“It is,” said Dougan smugly. “That’s my bed.”
“It was your bed,” returned Tanin. Leaning down, he shook Sturm.
“Wake up! We’re not going to carry you! And hurry up, before that god—cursed sail decapitates us.”
“What?” Sturm sat up, blinking drowsily.
“You can’t do this!” roared the dwarf.
“Look, Dougan Redhammer!” Tanin said, bending down and staring the dwarf grimly in the eye. “I’m hung over, seasick, and I haven’t had anything to eat all day. I’ve been doused with water, hit by fish, run over by a sail, and bored to death by kids' bedtime stories! I don’t believe you, I don’t believe your stupid quest.” Tanin paused, seething, and raised a finger, shaking it at the dwarf’s nose. “I’m going to sleep where I want to sleep, and tomorrow, when I’m feeling better, I swear by the gods I’m going to make these little bastards turn this ship around and take us back home!”
“And if I stop you?” Dougan threatened with a leer, not at all disconcerted by Tanin’s rage.