“I’m afraid, Wyll. This doesn’t feel right—we don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
“I’m with you there, Cheery. But you heard Mr. Dalbo: there might be something in ol’ Bindlestiff’s office, and we’ve got to nick it.” Wyll Underfoot had a worried look on his face as he crouched behind a big azalea bush near the smelting works. It was almost dusk and the light was fading fast.
“I know, but doesn’t it worry you that we’re being counseled by Dalbo Dall? He’s sweet and means well, but he’s also …”
“Nuttier than a nutcake? Yes, there is that,” noted Wyll. “But in my heart, I know he’s right. I just don’t feel good about breaking into this smelting place. Gives me the creeps! All dark and smoky and fiery.”
“Did you see that?” chirped the slight girl. “I think I saw Orli’s signal.”
“I didn’t see anything—wait! Yep, that’s it.” Wyll pointed at the edge of the cavernous opening to Bindlestiff’s Smelting Works, where he saw a glimmer of light. “That’s Orli with that shiny piece of metal he showed us. Caught the last glimmer of sunlight on it. Let’s go!”
Like squirrels, Wyll and Cheeryup stole from shrub to shrub, working their way down the lane towards the large Dwarf boy who was waiting for them. Five minutes later, the three hunkered down inside the entrance, behind a wall of large, smelly crates. Cheeryup figured they were full of the black stones that Orli had mentioned earlier.
“What’s the plan, mate?” asked Wyll with rising excitement.
“We must be careful,” cautioned Orli. “but still, it’s the best moment to strike. The second shift of workers are coming offline in a few minutes. There will be many Halflings coming and going from the premises, so they might not notice us, and many know me by sight. Can you see Bindlestiff’s office?”
He pointed about seventy yards into the cavern, where a small series of wooden huts had been erected. Above them, a small hut rested on raised posts with stairs leading to it. That was it.
“I’m going to walk out in the open towards the stairs. You two follow me along the edge of the burrow-hill, staying in the dark as much as possible. When you see me at the bottom step, come out to join me, and we’ll climb the stairs; I’ll pretend I’m giving you a tour. If all goes well, Bindlestiff and Fibbhook will have departed for the day, and the night foreman will have come on. He’s a lazy drunkard and shouldn’t trouble us.”
“I’m ready if you are,” piped Cheeryup, and the children sprang into action.
It all went very smoothly. Orli walked down the main thoroughfare of the cavern in plain view, nodding to various Halflings who were coming off shift, tired and dirty from hauling ore and smelting it into new metals and alloys for tools, wagon parts, bolts, and shafts. Clearly business was booming, as there were three shifts working the furnaces nearly twenty-four hours a day.
Production was shut down only from two in the morning until dawn, a period in which a fourth shift of mechanics fixed, cleaned, and trouble-shot any problems with the forges and its many mechanisms. It was hard, brutal work, but provided a living for many.
Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Orli looked about and gave his head a quick jerk, telling Wyll and Cheeryup to appear from behind a tool hut.
“… and this, my friends, is where the bosses work and manage our grand smeltery,” said Orli will surprising deftness. “Now, upstairs, I’ll show you where Mr. Bindlestiff works.”
“What’s going on here, you lot?” It was Fibbhook, who loomed up out of the darkness like a wraith. “I thought your shift ended this morning, boy?”
“Errrrr, yes that’s right, Mr. Fibbhook,” said Orli trying to maintain his composure. “But I asked my Pa, and he said it would be alright for me to give my town friends a tour of the smeltery. Part of building good relations with the neighbors—Mr. Bindlestiff told us Dwarves to always do that. I thought my mates would be interested to see what we do all day.”
“That’s a pretty thin story, young Dwarf master … but I’ll let it go this time,” hissed the foreman. “Be sure you make no trouble, and don’t stray off the path. I’ve been here for thirteen hours, and I’m tired and peevish. I want to go home, yet if I have to come back because of some mischief you’ve pulled, you’ll answer to me, not your Pa. Understand?”
“Of course, Mr. Fibbhook. I’ll make it a quick tour and get them out the door.” At that, the muscly foreman grimaced, turned on his heel, and left. Orli, Wyll, and Cheeryup collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
“Maybe we should go,” worried Wyll.
“We’re gone this far—we need to keep going,” said Cheeryup, ever the more actioned-oriented of the two. “We just need to get up these stairs.”
Wyll nodded, and the three padded up silently. There was an open walkway around Bindlestiff’s office, and a few windows they used to peek in. “It’s too dark to see anything.” Wyll was craning his neck to see inside, but couldn’t make out much. “We need to break in.”
“This is why it’s handy to have a Dwarf along.”
Orli withdrew a thin metal tool out of his boot and walked to the door. There was heavy padlock on the frame, but the young Dwarf set about fiddling with his device, and a few seconds later they were rewarded a “click!”
Once inside, Cheeryup produced a candle taper and some matches. The office’s interior was crude, but functional. There were a few wooden benches, stools, and tall desks, mostly covered in papers and binders. The pages, they noted, were covered in lines of numerical figures, tallies of expenses, and moneys earned. There were also lists of inventory—ore coming in and metals going out. It seemed extremely tedious to the children; they wondered if this is what being a grown-up was all about.
“How boring!” whispered Cheeryup.
“Wait—look.” Wyll pointed towards the wall behind the desk. There in the dark corner was a tall black rectangle: an iron safe! “Whatever we’re looking for,” said the wee girl, “It’s in there. But how shall we open the door? Orli, can you crack this lock, too?”
“My Uncle Wump could; he’s a master at opening locks. I can try with my tool. Might take a while, though.”
“We should go!” hissed Wyll in the darkness. “We’re wasting too much time up here, and it might take an hour for Orli to open the lock. Fibbhook might come back any moment!”
“Don’t be such a baby, Wyll. I thought you were a brave Halfling, but perhaps not,” chided Cheeryup in not her kindest voice. “C’mon Orli, do it.”
Stung from her words, Wyll fell silent and let the other two work on the lock. He stewed for a few minutes, but said, “I heard something.”
“Oh hush, Wyll, Orli almost has it open.” Flattered by her attention, the Dwarf boy smiled in the dark, but in reality, hadn’t made a dent in the gears.
“I heard it again! There’s a creak on the steps!”
“Wyll Underfoot, maybe you should go run home to the Perch and fluff up some pillows for Mr. Dorro. We’re spies on a mission! Leave if you want, but if you stay, shut up!” Cheeryup was downright rude this time, but she was dead intent on getting some evidence on the Grippe’s deadly powers.
Suddenly the door to Mr. Bindlestiff’s office flew open, blowing out the candle, and leaving the three children in the dark. They heard the rush of boots on the planked floors and rough hands grabbing them from behind. Their eyes were covered with gloved hands, while strong arms lifted them and began running down the stairs with cat-like silence. The children were terrified and began to weep, but their kidnappers said not a word.
The youngsters knew, however, they were in deep, deep trouble, which only made them cry all the more.