“Goodag,” he said to Gord. “How to serve a… Rhenneeclad… stranger from… Vild Coste?”

“Greyhawk, actually. I am here for a dagger.”

“Yah, sure!” the dwarf exclaimed enthusiastically. “Big, little, long, short, narrow, broad, and more. Ve got dem all. Vhich?”

To simplify the process, Gord launched into a detailed description of his lost dagger. He carefully explained its size, shape, decoration, and balance. When he completed the exposition, the dwarf asked some additional details that surprised Gord, for the fellow was accurate in the suggested conformation and decoration of the weapon.

“Und now der veppon iss… ?”

Gord recounted the tale of the sea serpent’s attack and defeat. At the point where he told about casting his dagger into the monster’s eye, the dwarf shook his head sadly. The blade, he informed Gord, was most certainly a magic one, but a weapon designed for demi-humans, not folk such as Gord. Had he only been able to have one for himself, Hengel said, Gord could have had his pick of the other magicked daggers in his place!

“One what?” Gord inquired.

“Oh,” said the dwarf sadly, “der longtoothed vun you vas telling about.”

Never having heard of a longtoothed one before, Gord found it hard to share the dwarf’s sense of sadness, although he keenly regretted losing the dagger and was excited at the prospect of replacing it.

“I’ll show vat I do haff,” Hengel said. Then he paused in his rush toward a cabinet. “You pay mit gold? Or is der deal to be a trade?” He eyed Gord’s clothing suspiciously as he asked these questions.

Without thinking, Gord reached into his sash and drew out the leather bag in which he kept his wealth. His whole attention was so caught by the weapons that he actually shook the bag’s contents out onto the counter. The dwarf’s eyes fell greedily upon the outpouring, a small pile of platinum and gold, with only a couple of electrum and silver pieces intermixed. Atop all was the cat’s-eye ring.

“Zsoo…” Hengel could hardly tear his gaze from the metal. “You haff much vealth for vun zo young!” He finally managed to look up at Gord, avarice filling his eyes with brightness. “Now I show you all!”

Too late to rectify his mistake, Gord thought. What a fool to display the contents of one’s purse to anyone-let alone a dwarf! There was no help for it now, and he must be ready for anything.

Hengel had the cabinet open and was hastily rummaging around inside it. He turned, arms loaded with parcels wrapped in velvet. He placed all of them on the counter near Gord’s heap of coins, unwrapping each of them quickly but carefully. There were five daggers there, each beautifully fashioned, each in its own sheath.

“You chooz vhich you vant,” the dwarf said, “and I tell you how much.”

Gord bent over and let his eyes play back and forth over the array, not touching any of them right away. While he was so occupied, Hengel scampered to the door, barred it, and dropped its curtain, saying, “No sense in letting anyvun bodder you vhile you is choozing!”

Gord was ready to grab one of the weapons and defend himself against attack, but the dwarf merely came back to the counter and stared at the coins. When Gord hefted the first of the blades, it began to glow, and he nearly dropped it in surprise. His exclamation caused Hengel to shift his gaze away from the coins to see what was going on.

“Der longtoothed vun neffer did dat, cause you ain’t a demi-hooman,” the dwarf said matter-of-factly This short explanation completed, the dwarf returned to his loving contemplation of the money, and Gord resumed inspection of the daggers.

He definitely did not like a weapon that shed light when it was drawn-too much attention there, even though Gord could see advantages to such illumination at times. The second blade was of deep black metal, very sharp and deadly looking, but Gord noticed it had a few tiny pits on it. That one he replaced in its sheath, grateful for his keen eyes, and also set aside as undesirable.

Of the three remaining, all but one glowed when held unsheathed. The last weapon he handled had beautiful balance, and it was almost as large as the one he had lost. Gord noted that its blade was covered with silver-inlaid runes, and his hand tingled slightly when he grasped the dagger and held it in fighting position. He tried a few passes with it, imagining an opponent before him.

“Zuch an eye you haff!” Hengel said. “You hold der best uff my daggers!” His deep brown eyes sad above the great brush of beard, Hengel stared solemnly at Gord and added, “It has der dwveemer zo dat it ignores armor und-”

“What’s dwveemer?” interrupted Gord.

“Magick! Shpells und zuch!” the dwarf said a bit crossly. “Don’t be shtoopid!”

Hengel’s accent was getting worse, Gord thought to himself. He meant dweomer, as in dweomercraefter, a spellbinder. The dwarf must be losing his composure because of his fascination with the precious blade in Gord’s hand. “Tell me more about this weapon,” Gord said firmly.

Hengel took it from him and unceremoniously hurled it at the stone floor. Much to Gord’s amazement, the point went in, and the blade buried itself two or three inches deep. The dwarf broke into a faint smile as he beheld Gord’s shocked expression, then said: “Schtone, schteel, vateffer, der blade sees only like it vas flesch! Uff magick protections, is another schtory… but demin or deffil is zlized mit easyness! You haff chust enuff here to buy it, too!”

The dwarf was fast, but not as quick as his customer. As Hengel’s hand darted for the treasure on the counter, Gord’s small knife intercepted it, guarding the ring-crowned pile.

“Not so fast, my friend,” said Gord coolly. “I didn’t say I wanted to buy it.” He looked at the greed written across Hengel’s face, shook his head, and continued. “No! At such a cost, I am not at all interested.” He scooped his treasure back into his purse, pulled the drawstring shut, and turned for the exit. “I shall look elsewhere…. Good-bye!” he concluded.

“Vait! Schtop!” Hengel cried as Gord’s hand started to unbar the door. “Perhaps I vas too kvick in… aah… counting der zum uff your vealth.” He thrust himself between customer and door, wringing his large, gnarly hands.

Gord dangled his purse from his left hand, watching the dwarf’s eyes following its motion. “Let us bargain further, then,” he said, turning back toward the counter.

It took almost half an hour to come to a mutually acceptable price, and Gord was on the verge of walking out twice more before the dwarf finally yielded. Hengel had tried his best to get the cat’s-eye ring as part of the deal, but Gord had resisted-all the harder when the dwarf had reduced the number of gold orbs he also asked for in order to gain it. That made the young man very suspicious. The ring must have value beyond gold and gemstone, he thought. Eventually, Gord paid over six orbs-all the gold he possessed.

The dwarf was not interested in platinum, although the plates were more valuable than gold orbs by a tenth. Hengel obviously cared much more about the yellow metal that his kind habitually favored. He was clutching the orbs fervently when Gord departed. Somehow, Gord understood, for he was holding the haft of his new weapon tightly himself. It had cost him dearly to obtain it, and he would treasure it accordingly.

He walked around the area for an hour or so thereafter, stopping in the meantime for some cold food and a flagon of ale at a local tavern, before returning to the marketplace. If anything, the market plaza was more crowded than it had been earlier. Gord was about to hurry through when his eye was caught by a swatch of the brightly colored, telltale garb of the Rhennee. Sure enough, there was Adaz, intent on her study of the wares of a goldsmith’s booth. He was merely going to pass without speaking, for he was certain she wouldn’t notice him, when her posture alerted him that she was doing something other than browsing. He glanced at the jeweler and the others nearby, sized up the situation, and moved quickly to the girl’s side.