“The last remaining piece of this saga, of course, is to apprehend your brother’s co-conspirator, Hiram Bindlestiff.”
Dorro looked at the buttons on his vest distractedly. “It shouldn’t be hard to find him. If I’m correct, he’s likely in the only hiding place of which he knows, one where Fibbhook discovered Wyll a few weeks back. I speak, of course, of the Pie Thief’s cave, up by the River Thimble.”
“My guess is that Bindlestiff is there right now, scared and hungry, but still dreaming up some mischief. As you venture forth to apprehend him, you will want to be on your guard. Sheriff, you may want to accompany these brothers on this excursion, at least if you don’t want rough justice done on the spot.”
“I would agree with you, Winderiver,” rasped Forgo. “We will leave at first light, and I shall come here to collect you gents and lady. I warn you not to get it in your head to try snatching Bindlestiff tonight. The murder of Wump is, unfortunately, outside of my hands—that’s for Dwarf law to decide. But catching Bindlestiff, who’s a Halfling like us, is fully in my jurisdiction, and I intend to follow it through. Do I make myself clear?”
The Dwarves all nodded. Dorro spoke: “Then it is time for us to bid you goodnight. Remember, don’t be too hard on your brothers, Crumble. They acted out of love for you and the boy. And as for Wump, the fellow he became wasn’t the brother you knew or the husband you wed, Aramina. He’d become sick with love of gold and money, and in the end, the disease got the better of him. Best to leave it that way.”
The trio of Thimble Downers turned and let themselves out of the burrow.
* * *
“That went well, I think,” whispered the bookmaster as they strolled down the lane.
“Better than that, I should say,” chimed Mr. Timmo. “Your observations, Dorro, were bloody brilliant.”
“I must agree, Winderiver—that was some damn fine detective work”
“Thank you all.” The Sheriff rarely conveyed compliments, and when he did, Dorro swelled with pride. “It was a most peculiar case, and I had a devil of time figuring it out.”
“I think the Mayor should give you an award for this one!” chirped Mr. Timmo. “Of course, I’d ask to make it. A medallion or trophy, perhaps. I’d give him a good price!”
“I know something that I am suddenly without—a silver pocket watch. It was taken by the Dwarf Seer as the price for her knowledge, and I am bereft without it. Even if it’s not a prize, I will happily pay you for a new one, Timmo.”
“Wonderful—I’ll work up some new designs immediately.” Timmo exchanged looks with the Sheriff. No words were said, yet the look in Forgo’s eyes clearly meant:
We’ll twist the Mayor’s arm until he pays for the watch. Even if we have to break it!
* * *
“Now be careful, everyone. Bindlestiff might be a buffoon, but that doesn’t mean he’s not quick or armed. A clever fellow like that might have also set a trap or two.” Forgo wasn’t going to take any chances—he wanted this Halfling taken cleanly and safely.
“Oh, come on, Sheriff!” giggled Aramina. “Let Malachite Molly have a little sport with the old frog. I’ll have him chased out in no time, what with me ’n’ my battle axe!”
“She’s right, y’know,” whispered Crumble. “No matter what defenses ol’ Bindler has, Molly will flush ’em out and put them out of commission. She’s like a bleedin’ hunting hound—she can smell trouble!”
“Against my better judgment, I will allow this,” said Forgo gravely. “But again, do not kill him unless it’s a matter of your own imminent death.”
“No worries, skipper! I don’t want him dead yet. We have to put the blighter on trial first and make him admit he’s a rat. Then I’ll cut off his—”
“Aramina, shut it, will you,” barked Crumble. “Now boys, clear a way and let Molly get through. She’ll get this done in half a tick!”
At that, Magpie, Flume, and Two-Toes made a space in their line for Aramina and Molly to get through and approach the cave’s opening. But while Forgo might have gone for a stealthy approach, Molly chose intimidation and fear, launching in a fearful whooping sound that would scare the stoutest of hearts.
“Whooo-lee-lee-lee! Whooo-lee-lee-lee! We’re comin’ to gut ya, Mr. Bindlestiff—or should I say, Bindle-stuffed! Yep, we’re going to stuff you like a pigeon, lest you get your tail out here right quick.”
Clearly Aramina loved her work.
She disappeared into the cave for what seemed like an eternity. The company soon heard loud reports—Bang! Blam! Boom!—the sound of explosions.
“Them’s must be the booby traps she’s triggerin’ off,” muttered Crumble. “Lots of ’em!”
After a few nerve-wracking minutes Malachite Molly stepped into the sunlight and waved for the troupe to approach. A few minutes later, they all stood in front of the orifice, wondering what was up.
“He was here and set a whole bunch o’ nefarious traps—black-powder bombs, cave-ins, fake snakes—he had it all. I can’t find the bugger through …”
Whoosh! A flight of arrows flew through the sky and one pierced Aramina through the shoulder—she screamed in surprise. A second flight came on its heels, striking the heavily armored Dwarves, causing pain and panic. They dove behind trees and rocks, while Two-Toes and Sheriff Forgo grabbed the huntress and pulled her to safety.
“What kind of trickery is this I wonder?” mused Crumble, scanning the tree line on either sides of the entrance.
He bolted northward along the shore, keeping low, Flume and Magpie following him. It didn’t take long for them to return, pulling with them an irate Hiram Bindlestiff, whom they’d hastily bound in rope. And Flume carried a strange-looking wooden creation, something like a scrambled-up loom.
“I knew there’d be a trick, and there was!” sneered Crumble. “How is Aramina?”
Two-Toes looked over the patient and replied, “Just a bolt to the shoulder. I got it out and put some herbs on it. She will heal, though pain will follow for a few weeks. We might ask that Halfling healer Nurse Pym to add a few stitches.
“Ridiculous!” croaked Aramina. “I’m fit as a fiddle and ready to dance! I just want to know how the fat toad got the jump on us.”
“I want my solicitor. I demand my rights!”
Bindlestiff’s cries were silenced by a quick kick from Sheriff Forgo.
“You’re lucky I don’t hold court right here, Bindlestiff,” roared Forgo. “No question we’d find you guilty and hang you from that pine tree. Rough justice, we call it!”
“So how did the old weasel shoot us with such accuracy?” wondered Flume.
“I can guess the answer is here, one I’m rather familiar with,” said Sheriff Forgo referring to the strange loom. “It was a contraption Bindlestiff found in the Pie Thief’s lair and put to use. A few months ago, the thief—who, I still can’t believe, is my own deputy, Gadget—stole the device from our armory; it hadn’t been used for decades. It was invented by a long-deceased Thimble Downer for the defense of our village. The weapon is a lightweight, ground-mounted crossbow on which you could load seven arrows at once. One master drawstring controls all the pulleys. Load the device, pull the drawstring, and fire. It was quite ingenious in fact.”
“So why was it kept quiet all these years?” asked Aramina. “Could be a weapon of great wonder and destruction?”
“Maybe that’s the reason right there,” wondered Forgo. “I think we all knew that this device could be used as much against us as for us. And furthermore, most Thimble Downers would agree that we are creatures of peace, not warfare. So we decided not to go down that road, despite the clever device and its obvious worth to others. Its inventor died soon afterward of natural causes, and we decided to store the darned thing in the armory. And that was the last of it, at least until Gadget got his mitts on it.”
“Oh, how we would love to use such a tool in the goblin wars!” crowed Aramina with glee. “We could mow down the enemy by the score.”
“But what’s to keep the goblins from capturing the weapon from the Dwarves and using it against your soldiers?” Forgo cautioned. “No, it would be best to destroy the accursed thing.”
“Give it to me, Flume,” commanded Crumble, who held the multi-bow and inspected its clever workings. “The Sheriff is right—it’s a devilish instrument. I am sorry, Aramina.”
At that, Crumble lifted it the contraption over his head and smashed it on the ground. He proceeded to stomp all over it, crushing the pulley mechanisms and all other workings. Now no one would be able to copy the infernal weapon.
“Now let’s take our prisoner back to Thimble Down. There is justice that needs to be dealt to this swine and I am hopeful that the Mayor can administer it. If not … we will.”