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outsiders in a long time. Ah, yes! I advise you not to interfere with him—the forest spirits say he’s a warrior.”
    “We’re not exactly cobblers,” Deler protested.
    “When the forest spirits say that someone’s a warrior, we usually take notice, but that’s up to you. The price of the third piece of news is the ring of that beanpole over there with the long mustache,” said the flinny, with a nod toward Alistan Markauz.
    “Which one?” the count asked.
    “Well, certainly not the silver one with your crest,” the little extortionist quipped. “You people are too sensitive about those little family knickknacks. It’s stupid to ask for them—you won’t give them up anyway. I like that one, with the red ruby.”
    Alistan took the ring off his finger without the slightest objection and put it on the ground. The flinny smiled contentedly and the ring joined the sweet under his dragoatfly’s belly.
    “Is your news worth it?” I asked.
    “That’s for you to decide, not me. News. There are orcs nearby.”
    “Where?” asked Egrassa, reaching for his bow.
    “In the ruins of the city of Chu. Six of them. Ordinary scouts. They’re not waiting for you. They’ll stay there for another five days.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “I heard,” the flinny said with a grin. “One of them fell into a trap and broke his leg, and now he’s delirious, so only five of them are fit to fight. You can finish them off, or you can just avoid them.”
    “We shall take note of your information. Is that all?”
    “Yes. There is no more news, good-bye.”
    The dragoatfly hummed as it rose up into the air and flew off toward the forest with its belly touching the tops of the daisies. The little beast was well loaded, and I was surprised it could get off the ground at all carrying that weight.
    “Flinnies are very fond of all sorts of rings,” Kli-Kli enlightened me.
    “I’ll remember that.”
    “Rotten skunk!” Hallas exclaimed, watching with anger in his eyes as the flinny flew away.
    “What can you expect from a flinny?” Kli-Kli asked with mock surprise. “They earn their living by peddling the news.”
    “So won’t he sell us to that group of orcs? I think the Firstborn could find something to pay for information on our whereabouts. I don’t trust those little runts.”
    “He would do that, if the Firstborn would bother to talk to him. But they have no respect for flinnies, and the flinnies are too proud to put up with that kind of treatment.”
    “Pack up your things!” said Egrassa, getting up off the ground. “We have the whole day until it gets dark, and then the night in reserve. We have to cover as much distance as possible today.”
    “What are we going to do about the orcs?”
    This was no idle question from Mumr—there were Firstborn up ahead, even if they weren’t expecting us.
    “We’ll kill them,” said Egrassa, glancing at Miralissa, who nodded. “We could just avoid them, of course, but it’s never a good idea to leave enemies behind you.”
    “And what do we do about this fellow who’s coming up behind us? Why don’t Deler and I stay behind and ask him a few questions?”
    “Hallas, you have no brains and no imagination!” said Deler—the dwarf never pulled any punches talking to his partner. “All you ever want to do is to wave that mattock about. The flinny told us this fellow is dangerous and we should stay well clear of him! And even if we beat him, then how are we going to find the group afterward, have you thought about that? Or since this morning have gnomes learned how to wander through forests without getting lost?”
    “It’s no more difficult than walking through the mine galleries,” Hallas muttered.
    “But I don’t want to get lost in the forest and then one fine day discover that I’ve wandered into an orcs’ nest,” Deler snapped.
    “No one’s staying here,” said Milord Alistan, putting a swift end to the argument between the gnome and the dwarf.