Dorro was laying out a few items for dinner when he heard an expected knock on the door. He rushed over and unlatched it, opening it just enough for a small figure to slip into the Perch’s foyer.
“Right on time! You weren’t seen, were you, Cheeryup?”
“I think not—I’m getting pretty good at moving about in the dark. What’s for supper? I’m famished!”
“Come this way, my dear.” Dorro toddled into his kitchen, making sure his window curtains were pulled tight and got to work. He’d found some nice trout fillets at the fishmonger’s and was preparing to sauté them with shallots, butterbeans, and diced turnips. As he cooked, Dorro made small talk. “So how was your day? Did you find the Pie Thief?”
“Yes.”
Dorro stopped on a heartbeat. “Don’t jest with me, young lady! I nearly had a heart attack.”
“But I’m not jesting, Mr. Dorro. I caught him, lock, stock, and barrel.”
Eyes bulging out of his head, the bookmaster croaked, “Well? Who is it?”
“Gadget Pinkle.”
“My former deputy? That tall, skinny bumpkin? He couldn’t steal a cookie dangling in front of him. You must be mistaken.” Cheeryup’s silence and small grin told him otherwise. “Fine—out with it. How did that gangly, clumsy boy become the most notorious thief in Thimble Down history?”
With that, the girl regaled him with her tale, how she tracked the Pie Thief and caught him that very morning on a bench in the village. By the time she’d finished, Dorro served up the fish onto some brown ceramic plates and set them on the table, along with mugs of cider. He held his cup in the air, laughing joyously: “A toast, to Cheeryup Tunbridge, the best detective in all Thimble Down!”
Cheeryup blushed, but accepted the flattery graciously. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“What is Gadget going to do, now that his career of evil has been curtailed by a little blonde-haired girl?”
“I think he wants to focus on his work for the Sheriff—he has anxiety about the memory of Bosco. Apparently Forgo won’t let it go.”
“I can see that, poor lad. What did he say about Bindlestiff’s missing papers?”
“I have them.”
“What? Cheeryup, dear, you have to stop frightening me like that. You have them?”
“Yep.” She was smiling ear to ear now. “He led me towards the Meeting Tree, and then to that luv’ly old willow not fifty paces away. Gadget had hidden the packet in an oilcloth that he stuck in one of the cracks. It was about twenty feet off the ground, but if you saw the way that boy can climb, you’d understand—he moves like a squirrel.”
“And?” sputtered Dorro.
“And I shall fetch it for you, but don’t expect miracles. It’s in Dwarfish, an ancient form I’d guess.” She skipped over to her cape and pulled out the wrapped oilcloth. Cheeryup plopped it on the table and unwrapped its contents. Both thrilled and amazed at her accomplishment, Dorro pored over the pages intently.
“This is far beyond me. I think it’s time for us to chat with our old friend, Crumble.”
* * *
Shortly after, the pair sat in the guest-burrow inhabited by the Dwarves.
Around the table were Crumble, Flume, Two-Toes, Magpie, and Wump’s former wife, the Battle Dwarf, Aramina. The rest of her fighters were encamped in the woods, though not far from the Hanging Stoat, whose delights they had discovered. Mungo, too, was delighted to discover their gold nuggets, which amply covered the many beers and chops he sent their way. After a week or two, the Dwarves had become regulars and even accepted by the Halflings of Thimble Down—they were just patrons like anyone else, there to have a drink and supper at the end of a hard day.
“So, what can we do for you, Mr. Dorro?”
The bookmaster had been wise enough to arrive with a two tankards of hard cider, which he knew would not go unappreciated by the Dwarves. They passed around cups and poured the strange drink and warily tasted it. Deciding that cider spirits passed muster, they passed the same small vial of belladonna and sprinkled a few drops to each vessel in order to spike it up to Dwarf strength.
“I’d like to show you these documents, Crumble. And by doing so, I hope we can keep this confidential—what I’m about to reveal is quite dangerous, and indeed I could go to gaol by simply possessing them.”
“You can count on us, Mr. Dorro. And Aramina, too!” The she-Dwarf merely smiled and burped loudly, which was as good as a solemn handshake to a Dwarf. “Now let’s have a look.”
Dorro laid the rolled oilcloth on the table and undid the string holding it together. By the way the Dwarves gasped and whispered to each other, he knew he’d hit the mother lode.
“As you can guess, these are pages stolen from Mr. Bindlestiff’s safe, though I can’t tell you where I got them. As for the words on the page, I don’t speak common Dwarfish, and this is perhaps older than that,” stated the bookmaster. “Might you have any ideas, Crumble?””
“Well, errrmm, this is kinda complex, Mr. Dorro.” The Dwarf scratched his chin and wiggled his eyebrows enough to indicate he had no idea what they contained. “Y’see, we’re not educated Dwarves. We’re what you might call diggers—not that this is a bad thing, but we don’t have much book learnin’.”
His brothers, Two-Toes, Flume, and Magpie, all nodded in agreement, while Aramina helped herself to more cider and belladonna drops.
“So you can’t read this script?”
“Oh no, I don’t think you’ll find any Dwarf in all the Northern Kingdom who could read this, though the pictograms are pretty interestin’. They certainly tell a tale about the black stones, they do. And not a good one.”
“But it’s not proof until we understand the words, is it?” Dorro looked dejected.
“At least, I can read one thing—this note scribbled in the corner here,” continued Crumble. “Why that’s plain enough. It says, ‘This is a gift to the College of St. Borgo from the library of Gildenhall.’”
“College of St. Borgo? Why that’s our esteemed university, though located many miles from here. Where is Gildenhall?”
“Why sir, that is the city from whence we come—it is the heart of the Northern Kingdom of Dwarves. Apparently, one of our Dwarf teachers felt it was of some importance to bequeath these documents to your place of Halfling learning.”
“How did they get into Mr. Bindlestiff’s hands?”
The Dwarves all chuckled. “P’raps the way all the things do—he stole ’em! Him or that Fibbhook fellow. Either way, it must be important. What are you going to do now?”
Dorro was lost in thought for a moment. “Crumble, these pages may hold the secret to the Grippe, what causes it, and how to cure the illness. The pictures tell us only half the story—we need answers. What if I proposed to you a journey?”
“I dunno if Mr. Bindlestiff would let us off work like that.”
“I’d only need you, Crumble, and Cheeryup.”
“Can I come?” chimed in Aramina. “You might need some muscle to keep you safe, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to poor Crumbly.”
“That we might, Mrs. Wump. I might take you up on that.” Dorro’s eyes were on fire. “I propose a journey to the burg of St. Borgo and a visit to its esteemed edifice of education. We will find one of the great minds there and ask him to interpret this for us. And we will return to Thimble Down with the answers to crack open this morass and put the Grippe out of our lives for good! I shall pay you for your time, Crumble, and you Aramina.”
“All the better!” laughed the Dwarf. “Brothers, hold the fort for us and tell ol’ Fibbhook that I’m home with a tummy ache for a week or three.”
“I propose a toast!” Dorro grabbed his own tankard of cider and held it aloft. “Tomorrow morning, the four of us shall set forth to the distant burg of St. Borgo, there to find answers, explanations, and illumination. And the rest of you shall, most gratefully, keep our secret. Here’s to our conspiracy!”
At that, they all clanked tankards and drank deeply, aside from Cheeryup, who didn’t like spirits and preferred to keep her wits about her. Still, she was excited by this expedition—if only Wyll were here she could rub it in his face.
He’s not the only one who could run off on a grand adventure! she thought jealously.
As for Dorro, he had only one other mission to accomplish before they set off in the morning.
“Cheeryup, let me walk you home, but stay in the shadows so no one sees you. And before we get there, I do have to make one important stop. A crucial one.”
The girl nodded in agreement, and they set off from the Dwarves’ burrow, excited for the next day’s sojourn and the unknown events that lay ahead.