PREVIOUSLY in Chasing Gnomes... [in the voice of Lindon the Elf wizard]

So, we got the old gang back together. It's been a long time since I matched wits with Rozlyn and Harry, but I don't think much has changed. She's still in more trouble than a nun in a brothel, and that tongue is sharper than shredded diamond. Harry's grown himself a beard, it seems, but he's still sporting that exaggerated accent. I'm not sure about this Little-John fellow yet. I've never met a gobbit before - I just hope it was a gnome father and not the other way round, or his mother will've had a sore time of it. Ew, why did I let my brain go there?

Anyway, we need to get a famous piece of jewellery - a ring named Hexapussy - from the clutches of a local crime lord called Billy Bass (or his brother Bariston). Roz tried to steal it from their house but got caught and now they've apparently taken it North, so we need to chase them. If we're lucky, Roz's debts will be paid and we might even have some cash left over to get paid. Interesting that we all seem to just follow her without question. I hope I don't have to do too much magic - it's not good for my complexion.

Anyway, I couldn't keep my mouth shut and started a tavern brawl in which I got instantly knocked out. The others are currently doing their best to extract me from the ensuing chaos without any additional injury. It's good to be back!

AND NOW, in Chasing Gnomes...


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We emerged into blinding daylight and a pair of ankles so big and gnarled, they belonged in the Ent Mr Woodiverse contest. A hand reached down and hooked into the unconscious Lindon's collar, plucking him into the air. I followed his dangling form as I got to my feet, looking up and up until he was flung over a shoulder the size of a castle battlement. Next to the gaudily-dressed elf was a broad, grinning face with stubble better described as chin-nails, framed by pale grey hair that could have been woven from steel.

"Terence, ya bastard!" shouted Harry, head-butting a solid thigh with merry enthusiasm. "Och, bugger. Yer built like a brick shite-house!"

I chuckled. "Glad you decided to join the party, old friend." Hailing from a barbarian tribe where, he swore, he was the runt of the litter, Terence stood seven feet tall and almost as wide. He was also wearing the traditional attire of his people - which is to say, very little. I stared into the cleft between his pecs and realised I should have kept hold of my armour. An idea popped into my head as noise from the Dragon's Tail got louder. "Could you pop the gobbit on your spare shoulder? We need to move quickly."

He smiled and reached down. With a faint whimper from Little-John, he was perched neatly opposite Lindon.

I lead the way round the side of the tavern for a bit of seclusion. From down the street, I could see a group of toughs approaching. They looked like the kind of guys who'd pull bits off you and do dirty things to them while you watched, then go home and tell their wives it was a good day at work. To a man, they were dressed in purple leather. Only one local gang wore that colour and didn't even get laughed at for it. It seemed BJJJ wanted his price extracted from me, and he'd found out I let Hexapussy slip away. Well, that's just suspicious timing.

I ushered the others further down the alleyway beside the Dragon's Tail, hoping the toughs hadn't seen me yet. "Okay, fellas. We need a wagon and we need to head North, and we need to do it fast, before my head gets used as a suppository. Terence, I'm assuming you're in?" He shrugged and smiled, which was as close as I was likely to get to conversation, and pointed towards the back of the tavern.

"Why is it always North?" moaned Harry as we followed Terence's gesture - it wasn't like we had another route to try.

"Because," I said, "it's always North - you know that. Everything dangerous or mysterious - it's always to the North."

"Not an answer," he muttered, and I pretended not to hear.

"Let me think about where we can try," I said. "Good quality wagons don't just materialise out of thin air."

We reached the back of the tavern and stopped at the sight in front of us. "It's a miracle," said Little-John.

It was a wagon, four horses tethered and ready to go, with a reinforced door, armoured wheels and arrow slits. If asked what vehicle I'd choose to head North into certain peril and tangle with a famous crime family, I couldn't have come up with anything better.

Glancing around hopefully, I cleared my throat. "Sacks of unmarked, untraceable gold don't just materialise out of thin air."

"Hehe, nice try, lass," said Harry, chuckling.

"I find this awfully convenient," I said.

Terence shrugged, drawing a squeak from his gobbit passenger. "Thought we'd need a wagon."

"And you just - what - found it?"

"Yup."

I winced. "And there was nobody driving it when you found it?"

"There was a man on it."

"Where is this man now?"

Terence shrugged again. "He isn't on it anymore."

"And the back," I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Is it unlocked?"

"It is now."

"Ken we git going, lass?" said Harry. "Ye'll nee get any more out o' him."

"Fine," I said, shooing everyone into the wagon. "But if we get arrested for heinous crimes against wagons and their drivers, I'm writing to the tribes to ask if I can return my barbarian. Harry, you know what to do."

The dwarf clambered into the driving seat. "Where to, lass?"

"The North Road," I shouted from the back, feeling a grin spreading across my face. "To profit!"

*****

"But I've got a headache," Lindon whimpered, clutching a kerchief to his head. "I can't do it when I've got a headache."

"You sound like my ex." I sighed. "Look, we've been at this road split way too long. The Bass kid's slipping away and we don't know which path he took."

Little-John's ears perked up. "All roads lead to profit," he quoted.

I snorted. "Well, then I've been walking backwards all my life." I kicked Lindon's foot and he moaned. "Come on, Elf. We're a team - at least we used to be. I didn't ask you here so you could pester tavern wenches and boast and/or complain. You're the only Touched on the team." I stroked his foot with mine affectionately and gave him a wink. "So do some touching."

"I wish you wouldn't call it Touched," he said, a small smile sliding across his face. "It makes me sound like a pervert. Very well." He tucked the hanky into a pocket. "I shall drop into a trance state and float free of my body so I can scout ahead."

He closed his eyes and I pulled a handful of prepared small cloth wads from my pouch, handing them around. Terence took two without question and crammed them up his nose while I did the same. Little-John gave me his cutest baffled expression.

"Trust me," I said, shaking two in his face and gasping in several deep breaths through my mouth. He accepted hesitantly.

A low rumble spread from Lindon through the carriage. Terence grinned and I smiled in return, being careful to keep my lips sealed.

"The seat's vibrating," said our gobbit. "Oh." He coughed. "Oh my!" I'd never seen anyone put things in their nose so quickly. "It's in my mouth!" He wailed, closely followed by, "argh - I shouldn't speak!"

The sound of retching came to us from a pile of sacking at the front of the carriage, making me realise we hadn't searched it in our hurry to leave Pennylast. I angled my head towards the shifting heap and Terence whipped away the top layer, his free fist brandished.

Two dwarves huddled on the floor, hands held up in surrender. "We yield - just spare us the chemical warfare. We don't mean ye any- DIRT BELOW, IT'S SO DISGUSTING!"

Judging them harmless (at least while a barbarian twice their height was sitting over them), I took mercy and offered them nose plugs. We spent a while communicating with glances and glares until Little-John broke the silence.

"I ate poo," he whispered.

I turned to the dwarves. "Okay, spill the beans. Why are you hiding on our wagon?"

"Your wagon?" started up the slightly slimmer one but the other one shushed them.

"Well met, lass. We're merchants, transporting our wares, and ye are honoured guests." He (I was pretty sure it was a he) rocked to his feet and swept an arm across the wagon. "My wife and I are please te have ye aboard."

There was a commotion up front and Harry (our one) opened the hatch behind the driver's seat so he could look in. "Dwarves?" He said. "Roz, we canne steal from other dwarves - ye'll give 'em back the wagon, o' course." He turned his beard to the two new beards. "Peace be with ye! What are ye families? I'm Harry Raven of Raven's Deep."

The merchants stood up and the male dwarf spoke. "We hail from Heron's Deep. My father was a successful merchant, name of Harry. He founded our business and now I carry on in his name." I couldn't help grinning at Terence's confused face and Little-John's twisted up expression of concentration.

"And your name, good sir?" I asked, plucking my nose plugs from my nostrils and putting them away. Terence offered me his, complete with enough snot to block a small city's sewer system, but I shook my head vehemently until they went away.

The male dwarf was smiling. "I am proud to bear the name Harry Heron, first of his name. This," he indicated his wife who, even through the beard, looked supremely embarrassed, "is Harry."

I held out my hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintances, though for the sake of sanity, I'm going to assign you the names Merchant Harry and Female Harry. I can't, however, offer your wagon back just yet. We need it so I can retrieve a stolen item before I fall foul of the Jingle-Jangles."

"It was stolen?" asked Little-John.

I smiled. "It will be stolen when I return it to Pennylast."

Lindon chose that moment to burst awake again. "Usually I have better aim!" he shouted, and looked immediately uncomfortable. "Ugh, who farted?" He cast a gaze round the faces in the wagon. "Harry, do you have something to confess?"

"Hmm?" said three voices in perfectly accented unison.

I snapped my fingers to get everyone's attention. "The Harrys will fill you in later. My dear unintended hosts, may we borrow your wagon for the duration of our most pressing mission? I promise to return it afterwards."

The merchants eyed Terence warily. "O' course. It'll be our pleasure."

Harry scowled at me through the hatch but I ignored him. "Lindon, which way should we be going?"

"Take the left fork," he said, waggling his eyebrows at female Harry. "They're not moving very fast. Looks like a couple of guards, a driver and just the one ponce. Oh, and there's a patrol following us from Pennylast. They don't seem friendly."

"Well that's just great. Harry! Take us left and be quick about it."

A horse whinnied and the wheels rumbled into motion. This was going to be a long and tiresome day.