* * * * *
“Shoot, Olson!” the broad-shouldered, mustachioed man in the grey calvary coat bellowed. “Brand me a shave tail if’n I haven’t tasted a finer vintage this side o’ the Heartwater!”
The thin-nosed, bristle chin-bearded dwarf in workman’s leathers and a hard jack smirked at his honored drinking companion. “‘Tain’t a problem, my flouncy tallman friend,” he said. “What with the company you keep.” He lifted his fluted glass to the others assembled in the courtyard of the stately hachenda crowning a hill at the center of town. The white clay-and-straw brick fortified home played guest to over three dozen gathered under the strung ambience of gas-lamps and the din of suppertime revelry. Dusk clawed at the sky leaving streaks of orange and pink as a ‘V’ of geese honked overhead, winging their way back north after the long winter.
“Anything less than legendary hospitality and I’d have reason to shoot ya dead where ya stand, friend dwarf!” Landing ribbed with a wink and a nod.
The dwarf unleashed a nasally laugh at the jest as Landing swept a hand toward them and four guests stepped up to join them on the low dais before the assembly. Other guests continued to hobnob and graze on the silver-plate wielded fare: all finger foods of the breaded crawdad and candied yam variety. A long table on the dais behind them sat strewn with steaming soup vats, whole legs, and flanks, and heads of animals on platters, plates topped with many-layered gelatinous desserts, and a small crystal fountain that spewed forth continuous waterfalls of peach-colored liquor.
“Mister Dresden,” Landing began with a flourish. “Let me introduce you to some special guests this evenin’. Not all the way—like I came—but clear across from Crowning Junction by way of Savig airship! May I present Misters Edgar Marlby and Bigby Dolan, ‘longside Madams Penelope Marshall and Annalyn Farlee. Sons and daughters of the good ole FSU!”
Lyn reached back to scratch her butt and make a face as much at Landing’s comment as to relieve herself of the bunching her new sapphire dress caused.
Marlby and Bigby, too, were dudded up in finer clothes and new boots. Poppy wore her usual tasteful attire.
“Welcome to my home,” the dwarf said. “Olson Dresden. This be the community of our making.”
“Why it’s just a real pleasure, Mr. Dresden,” Marlby said, taking the dwarf’s hand. “Meeting you both, that is!” Marlby turned and took Landing by the other hand, turning the three of them into a pretzel of affectation.
“Alright, boy, alright!” Landing said, patting Marlby on the shoulder. In truth, Landing wasn’t much older than Marlby, and was even a few years Bigby’s junior—owing to Bigby’s gnomish blood—but everyone looked and sounded younger who stood in that man’s sights.
“A pleasure to meet you both,” Poppy said, tilting her head to their hosts in turn. “Art, and Olson.”
“First name basis, eh?” Dresden perked. “Like her already.”
Poppy smiled prettily.
“This is about as fine a stay as we’ve enjoyed outside of back home,” Bigby said.
“And whereabouts would you call home, Mr. Dolan?” Landing said.
Somehow, Landing’s words made Bigby have to shake off a momentary echo of dread before he responded. “Never much had the roots to put down for a home, Mr. Landing. I tend to wander.”
“You’ve wandered far afield from friendly confines, Folk friend,” Dresden stated. “The Disputed don’t play kind to those unfamiliar.” Dresden looked down at Marlby’s legs tellingly.
“And don’t pay him no mind,” Landing chuckled. “He’d be happier still if the kingdom’s borders were a few miles west as east of him.” Landing made reference to the fact that Dresden’s Crossing sat closer to the unsettled middle country of the continent than many other locales in Rausch, the kingdom they now inhabited.
“Not closer than Holy Faith,” Dresden corrected. “Or did all that travel addle your sense of time and space?” the dwarf joked.
“Curious thing that you would bring up matters of time and space and mention of that Rauschite bordertown,” Bigby said. “The very one which by your labors you intend to bridge the Disputed with a railroad, if I’m not mistaken, Mr. Landing? Mr. Dresden?”
“Far as Gom Shao, if the fates align,” Landing confirmed.
“That’s what we came to learn, as well,” Bigby said, nodding to Marlby. “But you won’t be getting there without us.”
Dresden shot Landing a look.
“I see they caught your attention like they caught mine,” Landing confessed.
Dresden smirked. “Not the most public place to be making threats, but I’ll remind you—”
“Not a threat,” Bigby said. “A promise. And this.” He slid the bronzed rod out from the rigid roll of fabric on the dickey that sat bunched under his chin. The alchemist’s key seemed to buzz with a bronze halo of light that limned all who surrounded it with a soft glow separate and apart from the party ambience.
“What’s that?” Dresden asked, nonplussed.
“A key to locked locales that make a bridge across time and space to where you need to go,” Bigby alluded. “Alchemy is my trade. I know now what this rod can do. It’s taken me halfway across Ullera to figure it out, at the expense of nearly all our resources and this good man’s legs.” Marlby shifted at Bigby’s side. “But we can’t continue to do this on our own. We need your sponsorship and the protection your expedition will provide. In return, we’ll provide you a legitimate cover story, and equal shares in anything we discover through this. We just ask that you permit us the freedom to do all the discovering we can along the way.”
The two rich “entrepioneers” looked mildly amused.
“What’s your story, alchemist?” Dresden said.
Lyn patted Bigby’s chin and waltzed over to the table where the food sat and began picking at the assembled fare.
Bigby gestured to Poppy.
“We are seekers on a pilgrimage to the holy lands,” she said, glowing and confident at every word. “The Godhead has summoned us here to help strengthen the homeland. By laying new rail and discovering the sacred places here that call to us, we ensure that others too will come to know the truth and commune more closely with the Godhead.”
“Godhead. You speak of the hunk o’ statuary the Brelonites bow down and pray to?” Landing ventured.
Dresden nodded for them. “The very same that elves and dwarves long ago wrought for their own purposes. Pfah!” he spat and shrugged at the notion.
“And, if the legends are to be believed, the very same that dragons enchanted before they left these lands,” Bigby added.
“We are not religious men,” Landing said. “We are men of action. And science.”
“As am I!” Bigby agreed. “But this story will appeal to the throne’s sensibilities, if ever it gets back to them! You won’t curry favor in Rausch proudly denouncing all they hold dear. This way you can hide your rail in plain sight and Rausch will tend to see it the way we sell it: a vehicle to take the good news into heathen lands!”
“People don’t tend to do much of anything ya like,” Dresden reminded, shaking his head at Landing.
Landing stared at what Bigby held in his hands. “And this here rod? How’s it factor into all this?” he said, extending his open hand to the gnome.
Bigby paused, then laid the alchemist’s key in Landing’s palm. “If you’re willing, tomorrow morning, we’ll accompany you to a place not far—maybe 20 miles or less—where I can show you.”
Bigby let go of the rod and it immediately dimmed to nothing in Landing’s hands.
Everyone staring at the rod flinched, giving Bigby a screwy glance.
“I didn’t know that either, until recently,” Bigby said, eyeing the rod. “This is the first time it’s been out of my reach since,” he looked up at Poppy, “…since I was given this key. It’s no thing of magic. But it is still a thing of mystery. A mystery, too, I would share you with, dear hosts, if you would have us?”
Landing and Dresden took deep, steadying breaths simultaneously.
Landing chewed his tongue and quirked his brow at his dwarven business partner.
“It’s been awhile since something truly unanticipated and intriguing has crossed my table,” Dresden said. “Be ready an hour after dawn. I’ll arrange the away party to join us. Until then,” he added at length, sweeping an arm out in front of him, “please, enjoy!”
