Zarnikorek considered asking Tobin to push onward overnight to make better time to Hill Stop, but his logical mind won over. Starting the journey by pushing too hard on the “easy part” wouldn’t do them any favors if they reached the difficult parts utterly exhausted.

  “Can I help with anything?” Zarnikorek asked as they came to a stop. Helping would prolong the inevitable interactions he’d have with the other wagoners already sitting around the fire. He dreaded the looks they’d give him. Plus, he wasn’t sure how they’d react. Would they be wary and distrusting? Would they begrudge his very presence in their midst?

  “Sure!” Tobin said cheerfully. He stood on the platform that made up the driver’s box. The halfling twisted his trunk, managing a couple of cracks as he sighed with relief. “Ah. This new seat cushion does wonders, but I should really stand up more often while we drive. Don’t need an achy back for the long haul. Usually don’t drive more than a couple of days. But this trip is going to be a long one. Got to stay spry and limber. Never know what’s going to cross our path.” He laughed to himself and patted the red fabric that upholstered the driver’s seat.

  “Want to unhook Gregory, and I can take care of setting up the beds for this evening so you can see how it’s done? Another good thing to know how to do. We’re going to need good sleep. Lenor always says your body needs good rest, so it remembers which way is upright in the morning. And I know just the way to set up the bedding. It’ll take—”

  “I’m happy to unhook Gregory,” Zarni cut in, still with a hair of hesitation.

  “Right you are. Right you are,” Tobin said, climbing over the railing into the back of the wagon. “I’ll try to slow down after I ask a question. Bad habit, I know.”

  The halfling cleared his throat and stared at Zarni for a long moment with what looked to be a pained expression. The goblin realized it was taking all the self-control the halfling had to leave the silence between them, allowing for Zarni to respond. But the goblin wasn’t really sure what to say. His hand brushed against something furry and he realized Gibs lay curled up in a ball on a supply sack next to him. Zarni ran his fingers along the curve of the little creature, and without opening his eyes, the horned marten’s hind end raised high to take in all the scratches. “Do we have anything for Gibs to eat?” Zarni asked, knowing they did, but wanting to relieve Tobin of his silent pain.

  “Yes! Of course,” the halfling breathed enthusiastically, as if he’d been holding his breath just to keep the words in long enough for the goblin to respond. “I’ll get him a bite while I’m preparing the bed rolls. And I’ll set up a feed bag for Gregory and hang it on one of the back posts of the wagon for him to have easy access.”

  Zarni nodded and climbed out of the back of the wagon. As he strode around, a small furry head popped over the side. Two sleepy eyes blinked at him. Apparently, Zarni had woken Gibs, and the horned marten yawned curiously.

  As Zarni rounded to the front of the wagon, he spoke to the massive boulder goat. “Hey Gregory,” he cooed. “Let’s get you unhooked for the night.” But as he reached for the leather straps, the boulder goat lumbered sideways to get away from him.

  “Easy there, boy. I just want to get you unhooked.”

  But as Zarni stepped toward the brute, Gregory puffed several annoyed bursts of air through his nostrils and skipped back in the other direction.

  “Whoa!” Zarnikorek said, raising his hands. “I’m trying to help you get unhooked so you can get some rest.”

  Gregory snorted and popped his bearded chin high as if he couldn’t even stand the sight of the goblin.

  “Come on, pal.” Zarnikorek shifted tactics. “We’ve got a long journey ahead. This isn’t the last time we’ll have to work together. Let me get you unhooked.”

  As Zarnikorek moved forward, hesitation in his steps, the boulder goat let out a scream that tore through the night. It stomped its hooves and reared up, scaring Zarnikorek as he dove away. From his vantage on his rear, the goblin saw the boulder goat in a much less regal light.

  Laughter floated into the goblin’s long, green ears. He turned over his shoulder to see all the wagoners around the campfire watching with wide grins. Great first impression, Zarnikorek scolded himself. Instead of looking at me like some monster, they see me as a jester.

  A large hand hovered above his head. As the goblin followed the rippling arm attached to the hand, he found it belonged to an enormous human man. Dark hair framed his face with a haircut that could only have been done at home or by a blind barber. His beard was scraggly and opened around his mouth, revealing a toothy smile that contained a few more gaps than teeth.

  “Come on, now,” the large man said. “Let’s get you up on your feet. Not going to do much wagon work on your hind end—” The man paused, his face contorting before he bellowed a laugh. “Actually, on your hind end in the driver’s box is where a lot of wagoning happens.”

  Around the campfire, other wagoners chuckled along with their compatriot’s humorous remark.

  “Right you are, Lengard. Right you are,” Tobin said as he rounded the wagon, having just finished hanging Gregory’s feed bag.

  Zarnikorek placed his tiny hand in the big man’s, and Lengard hoisted him up. The goblin’s feet left the ground for a moment before he landed upright. “There you go, now. Looks like you’ve got yourself a stubborn boulder goat there.”

  “No,” Tobin said, elongating the word and cooing at the big beast. He stepped closer to Gregory and the boulder goat stood firmly in place as the halfling showered him with affection. “He’s just the most majestic boulder goat in all of Finlestia. Look at his beard. Have you ever seen the like? He’s sturdy and strong. He’s got horns like a king’s crown.”

  Zarnikorek watched, mouth agape, as the halfling unhooked the boulder goat as if it were the easiest task in the world. Gregory stood straight as a statue. His chin jutted skyward, as if he couldn’t be bothered to look at the only servant worthy of unhooking his leathers.

  “That boulder goat has got a real attitude problem,” Lengard grumbled next to Zarnikorek.

  “I …” Zarnikorek didn’t even know what to say. He merely shook his head.

  “Thinks he’s the king of all boulder goats. Only two ways to get that goat under control. Treat him like a king—as Tobin’s so unabashedly demonstrating. But I don’t really like that method. Right now, it’s a one-way road. You give him everything he needs. He pulls the wagon because he thinks it proves how strong he is. How he’s stronger than the horses and other boulder goats. Stubbornness is close to determined, but not the same. It can keep him going through a storm, but not to help you, just to prove he can. You don’t need him stubborn. You need his loyalty.”

  Zarnikorek looked up to the mountain of a man standing next to him. “And how do we get that?”

  “You show him you’re the king in the relationship. You’re the wagon master. Not him.”

  “I don’t know …” Zarnikorek said slowly.

  “Nothing to know,” Lengard grunted. “Animal that stubborn, it’s about proving you’re more determined than he is. Showing him you won’t back down.”

  “There we go,” Tobin said, clapping his hands together to dust them off as he joined Zarnikorek and Lengard. “All set for the evening. What do we have cooking around the fire tonight?”

  “I only just arrived, but Sora was just preparing some sausage for the group.”

  “There’s plenty,” a woman called from the campfire.

  “Wonderful,” Tobin said. “Just wonderful. Now you can meet some of the other wagoners and get to know what the wagoner life is like! Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone. We don’t always get to share a circle because we don’t always end up at the wagon stop on the same nights. And I don’t always take transports to Hill Stop. A lot of times I’ll go west to Crossdin instead. And some of these folks are from Hill Stop and they take transports out east to Whitestone. So, you can see how we don’t always run into each other on the road. But it’s sure nice when we do. I’d wager it’s one of the best parts of wagoning. Running into good folk and …”

  Nervousness tried to rear its ugly head within Zarnikorek’s gut, but as he followed Tobin and Lengard to meet the others, a strange sense of peace washed over him.

  As the duo lay in their bedrolls in the back of the wagon, Gibs snuggled up tight next to Zarni. The goblin couldn’t help but stare into the night sky with awe. He’d seen the stars before, of course. But that summer night, in the back of the wagon, with adventure before them, the sky seemed to explode with the little pinpricks of light. It was as if the Maker was giving him some sort of sign. Finlestia was full of possibilities.

  The fact that the other wagoners had happily welcomed him around their campfire only bolstered the feeling. He’d been surprised by their attitudes. They’d been so easygoing and even curious about the quest. Tobin happily shared everything in painstaking detail, but many of them wanted to hear from Zarni, interested in his culture and his home. As he shared, the thought of a new wagon route to Ghun-Ra grew more and more exciting. Several of the wagoners from Hill Stop expressed how interested they were in taking the opportunity to haul between their town and the orc city. Zarni realized that even among the wagoners, he was playing a major role in this quest. He was an emissary for his people.

  A shooting star dashed across the sky, burning a searing line of light.

  “Did you see that one?” Tobin asked. Zarni had thought him already asleep, but apparently the halfling was also enjoying the view.

  “Beautiful,” Zarni whispered back.

  “Aye,” the halfling uttered.

  Zarni grinned. Either the halfling was half asleep, or he was so in awe of the night sky he could barely string words together.

  “Thank you for introducing me to some of your friends,” Zarni whispered.

  “Of course. That’s part of wagoning. Good people on the road. All of them just trying to make an honest living for their families. If you think about it, isn’t that what we’re all trying to do? That kind of thing brings people together, I’d wager. You’ll never see a wagoner broken down for long. Either they pick themselves up and get back on the road, or another one comes along to help.”

  “That’s pretty amazing,” Zarni said. “It thrills me that such good people are excited about what we’re trying to do.”

  “Aye,” the halfling said. “It takes good folk to do good work that changes the world for the better. We might be doing some good work to get things started, but it’ll be other good folk who keep it going for generations to come.”

  Tobin’s words struck the goblin. For all the halfling’s words, there were some wise ones among them.

  He’s a dreamer, Zarni thought with a smirk. And then another thought struck him. He turned over and rustled between their bags.

  “You alright?” Tobin whispered. “Your bed not comfy enough? I’ve got more blankets rolled in the corner. I just didn’t want you to be too hot tonight. Figure we’ll need the extra blankets in the mountains, but not down here among the hills.”

  “No,” Zarni said. “The bed is fine. I just wanted to grab … this.” He held up a cloth bag that swung heavily from his grasp. “May I?”

  “Oh, good idea,” Tobin said, now sounding a bit more energetic.

  Zarni slid the orb from the cloth bag in which Tobin had placed the artifact to protect it. His green hands held the stello glass up high. He angled it just right and peered through. Instantly, ethereal blue lines and script appeared to hover in the heavens. Zarni pulled it away from his view and saw only the stars above. “Wow,” he said as he moved the stello glass back in front of his vision. A strange blue glow highlighted specific stars and traced magical lines to other stars. The orb pointed out constellations Zarni knew, and many he didn’t. Each one marked with a script and a symbol.

  “You’ve got to see this,” the goblin said, handing the orb to the halfling.

  “Well, I’ll be …” Tobin whispered. And this time Zarni knew the halfling’s speechlessness was a side effect of his awe.

  The two took turns with the stello glass long into the night. Whispering over constellations they knew and sharing about the ones the other didn’t recognize. A myriad of constellations were unrecognized by either of them, but each seemed content with the magnificent mystery of the orb.

  Eventually, their excitement gave way to exhaustion. Tobin fell asleep first. And Zarni was sure of it this time. The halfling snored like a plains bear, but the noise didn’t keep him up. It wasn’t long before he too drifted into promising dreams of the future.

  Zarnikorek knew the Wyvern’s Wish was an oddity among the taverns in Ghun-Ra, being built in the valley rather than inside one of the mountain caverns. What he didn’t realize was how similar it made the place to taverns south of Drelek. Hop Stop bustled with activity as Tobin and Zarnikorek entered the building.

  Wooden beams rose high above to support the roof, and iron fixtures bore lanterns that illuminated the place in an amber glow. Patrons laughed and talked all around the place while a bard sang from a small stage in the corner. Zarnikorek’s ears twitched and adjusted, attempting to recognize the song.

  Even in the face of giants

  Tally Lomern’s love did triumph

  She would not let him go

  Never would she do so

  Though Finlestia embattled

  Their two hearts were never rattled

  Two stones forever true

  No evil could break through

  If love were a

  Safer game

  Would we ever play?

  And would we face

  This daring fate

  If we would not be changed?

  Zarnikorek didn’t recognize the love ballad, but a flush rosed his cheeks. If Jileva were singing the song, the whole tavern would be silently soaking it in, he thought. He scratched his hair and adjusted the goggles resting on his forehead. That’s one difference between the taverns, he thought, trying to shift his line of thinking. But it wasn’t the first time he’d caught himself thinking about the beautiful goblin bard.

  “I’ll be right back,” Tobin said quickly.

  Zarnikorek’s eyes widened in horror and he nearly reached out to snatch the halfling’s cloak.

  Tobin laughed at the goblin’s expression. “It’ll be alright. I’ll only be a minute, and I’ll get us some food and beverages.”

  Zarnikorek’s heart pounded so hard he felt it in his ears. “You can’t … I can’t …”

  “You can,” the halfling chuckled. “No doubting yourself, now. Look. Right over there. That’s Dirk and Gram. They’re friends. And here, take some coin.” Tobin paused and counted out a handful of coins. Before Zarnikorek could protest, the halfling shoved the money into the goblin’s hands and said, “Looks like they’re teaching some guardians how to play Castle Brick. Prefect time for you to learn.”

  “But …” was all Zarnikorek could say before the halfling sped off through the crowded tavern toward the bar. The goblin’s stomach soured as he turned to find Dirk and Gram. The two dwarves sat at a table, boisterously laughing and hurling good-natured insults at each other. Two men in sleek metal armor sat at the table with them, each quietly pondering the game bricks in front of them. Several men and women in similar griffin-adorned armor gathered round, watching the game and chatting amongst themselves.

  Zarnikorek gulped, hoping it would carry courage all the way down to his immobile feet.

  “You alright there?” someone asked next to him.

  Zarnikorek turned to find a fair gnome woman who was just as short as he. Her large eyes were as golden as the hair that fell in ringlets over her shoulder. Even her fair skin seemed to have a golden hue. He’d never met a gnome, and never expected to. The gnomish population of Tarrine was not believed to be very large. But then again, they tended to be jovial peoples that kept to themselves in vast forests where they could be easily concealed. Even harder to find were the deep gnomes who lived underground. There were gnomish cities, but few people of other races lived among them.

  “You alright?” she asked again, her shining smile brightening the place.

  “Oh, uh …” Zarnikorek hemmed. “My, uh … friend …” Was Tobin his friend? Zarnikorek figured he was as close to a friend as Deklahn had been. Why am I over-complicating this? “He said I should join Dirk and Gram to learn how to play Castle Brick.”

  “Oh, yeah. Come on over here,” she said, wrapping his arm and pulling him toward the table.

  Raucous laughter burst from everyone at the table as one of the miniature brick towers on the table fell and scattered. “No!” one of the armored men cried and held his head in his hands.

  “No points for you!” one of the dwarves said.

  “You’re killing us,” the other man said to his dismayed comrade.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey boys,” the gnome said. “This is … this is … Actually, I didn’t catch your name sweety.”

  “Zarnikorek,” he choked out. Why is my mouth so dry?

  “I’m Dirk,” one of the dwarves said. “And this is me brother, Gram. Though sometimes I wish he weren’t!”

  Everyone laughed as Gram punched his brother, and they started to wrestle, rolling out of their chairs and onto the floor. The two grappled and maneuvered until Gram was sitting atop Dirk with a red face and a wide smile. “And who is Zarnikorek?” he said as others cheered the dwarf’s victory. Dirk popped his head out to look at the goblin as well. His smile was just as wide as his brother’s.

  “Uh, well. Tobin. You know Tobin?”

  “Ye’re Tobin’s friend? Well, why didn’t ye start with that!”

  “Any friend of Tobin’s is a friend of ours!” Dirk said as he muscled himself out from under his brother’s weight.