“Hurry, Cheeryup, we mustn’t be late!”
Double-checking his beloved pocket watch, Dorro was anxious to meet Professor Larkspur. He awoke Cheeryup and the Dwarves at seven o’clock and rushed them through breakfast. The bookmaster wasn’t going to be even one second late for this important appointment.
They reached the moss-covered building on the campus of the College of St. Borgo and pushed opened the door. Dorro was relieved to see the aged porter sitting in his little nook, pouring over ledger accounts and other pages.
“Greetings again.”
“Ah, you are the party from yesterday afternoon. Back so soon?” said the porter in his creaky voice. “How nice.”
“Yes, indeed!” crowed Dorro. “We have an important appointment with Professor Larkspur, and I’m sure he’s eagerly awaiting us.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“But yes, we are most expected.”
Dorro was getting a little irked and held up his silver pocket watch as if it was some kind of proof of their meeting. “We shall show ourselves upstairs if you don’t mind. This is not negotiable, my good man!”
“Oh, I don’t mind if you go upstairs,” laughed the porter. “Go upstairs all you want! But you won’t find Professor Larkspur. Neither today, nor for many months.”
He chuckled again and went back to reviewing his paperwork.
“What do you mean he’s not there? Of course, he’s there! The scholar told us to come back this morning at this precise time.” Dorro was beginning to panic.
“I can’t speak to that, m’lord. But as soon as you left yesterday, Professor Larkspur announced he was going on sabbatical—a long one—and wouldn’t be back until next term. He said he’d just made an important discovery in the realm of Ancient Dwarf culture and would be off until who know’s when. And that’s the truth, sir. If you don’t like that answer, ’tis nothing I can do about it.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Mr. Dorro,” added Crumble, “But I think yon Larkspur stole your papers and is gone, hell or high water.”
Dorro was about to burst into tears. “I knew I shouldn’t have left those papers.”
“I say let’s go after ’im,” piped in Aramina. “Oooo, when we catch the old scunner, I’ll fix his wagon. Let’s see how well the thief does his readin’ and researchin’ with just one eyeball! Or maybe I could remove a few of his fingers—hard to turn pages with just a thumb.”
She smiled her crooked smile, revealing a mouth of nasty brown teeth, some of them missing.
“What are we going to do, Mr. Dorro?” cried Cheeryup. “Our journey is in vain! Those pages are lost.”
“This is a tragic blow, I admit,” Dorro frowned, “But all is not lost.” Reaching in his satchel, the bookmaster fished around for a moment and pulled out some pages—they were nearly perfect replicas of the missing pages.
“How did you get those?” the girl exclaimed in wonder.
“I didn’t get to be bookmaster for nothing, my dear. Upon receiving the documents from you, the first thing I did was to hire Mr. Bedminster Shoe to make several precise copies. He’s a marvel! Doesn’t even speak Ancient Dwarfish, but his calligraphy is so fine that he was able to duplicate the nuances of their written language.”
“Thank goodness you made a copy,” Cheeryup added.
“Oh, we made a several copies, the rest of which are safely locked up in the rare book room of the Thimble Down library,” Dorro winked. “But that doesn’t solve our current problem—we’re still many miles from home and have little to show for our journey. The information in these pages is still locked in a mysterious language I can’t decipher, and the one-and-only expert at the College of St. Borgo has taken flight. I’m afraid we must go home in defeat.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir …”
“Crumble, you don’t have to ‘beg my pardon.’ Just say what you need to, man!”
Dorro was getting exasperated with his Dwarf friend’s endlessly polite nature.
“It’s just that there is an alternative.”
“That’s right, Mr. Dorro, there is a good ‘un!” Aramina was hopping up and down on her toes, excited by the same idea. “It will require a bit of a journey.”
“That it will, but I can guarantee you the pages will get translated.” Crumble was looking at Dorro adamantly.
“Well, out with it!”
“The Seer! The Seer!” Aramina began a joyful little dance. “We can go home!”
“Crumble, please explain.”
“Y’see, sir, we can go north to our city—a magnificent place called Gildenhall—and speak with the Dwarf Seer, a lady of incredible mental facilities and intelligence. She understands the past, prophesies the future, and can change the present. The Seer will read your pages like it was for wee toddlers.”
“How far would this journey be? I’m not sure we’re prepared. And is it dangerous?”
Crumble continued: “I cannot lie to you, friend. It’s a good hundred miles to the Northeast, across the Wastes, and some of it is in open country where goblins and wolves ply their trade. But you have a purse full of coins, I’ve noticed, sir. With that, you could sell your wagon and buy four stout ponies. You two will need some warmer clothing and we’ll need to stock up on food. That said, it will take us four days to reach Gildenhall. And as for the enemy, we have one distinct advantage—Malachite Molly!”
Aramina smiled bashfully and giggled, “Awww, Crumbly, you sure know how to flatter a girl.”
“I’d put Aramina up again fifty goblins, and we’d still come out smelling like roses. We’ll make sure you get back to Thimble Down, too!”
“Well Cheeryup, are you up for more adventuring?” Dorro looked at her earnestly. “This won’t be like a gentle canoe ride on the River Thimble. It will be hard travel through wild lands.”
“We go,” said the girl firmly, “If Wyll can run off on an adventure, so can I!”
* * *
Not six hours later, the foursome was wending their way out of St. Borgo on four gray-and-white ponies. The troupe had packed its belongings and retreated to the livery, where Dorro negotiated the sale of his cart and ponies, and procurement of fresh animals.
Clothes and provisions were hastily bought, and the band launched their journey by mid-afternoon. The skies had turned gray, and a steady rain had begun, causing Dorro to regret his decision, but the die was cast and they were en route to a strange new land. There was no turning back now.
Shall I ever see my beloved burrow again? he wondered. Shall I ever fish again in the river, or file books away in my library? And what about Wyll? I’ve failed him most of all. Still, we must complete this mission and I must return Cheeryup to her mother safe and sound. I shall never forgive myself if anything happens to her.
Dorro’s pony snorted loudly, drawing him out of his worried thought. He looked around and saw only a drenched, gray landscape. And far in the distance, he could just make out a thin line of mountains.
Why, oh why, are we going to the mountains? I could be home at the Perch making a pot of strong black tea and reading a book before the fire. Drat! Curse myself for being such a fool!