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Firesplasher was killed! It wasn’t my fault.”
    “Tell us about it,” the human pressed. “Even destruction such as you describe would not have claimed the lives of all who lived there. Where did the survivors go?”
    “I don’t kn—!”
    The advancing tip of the sword now pressed againstCornellus’s leather vest, sinking an inch into the soft flesh.
    “Wait! Please!”
    He held up his two fat hands, pleading. “There might have been a few who lived—gnomes are hardy souls, after all!”
    “Where would these few survivors be?”
    “I don’t—wait, there is one place perhaps. Yes, it’s the only one that makes sense. Caergoth!”
    “Caergoth?” Dram spat contemptuously. “Why would they have gone to Caergoth?”
    The human eased back on his sword, squinting at the blubbering bandit lord.
    “The ghetto—they call it the ‘Gnome Ghetto.’ It’s a filthy place along the waterfront. No decent person would go there, but the gnomes are living there, teeming like rats! All gnomes are welcome there!”
    “What makes you so certain?” the warrior rasped. “You
are
certain, aren’t you?”
    “Because—all right, I admit it, because some of them came through here! I sold them two wagons and four oxen—there were twenty or thirty of the little wretches. All that was left of Dungarden. They needed wagons large and sturdy enough to get to Caergoth.”
    “Are you telling us the truth finally?” demanded the dwarf, brandishing the axe and baring his teeth.
    “I think he’s lying,” the man said, holding the blade steady.
    “No, it’s the truth, I swear!” squawked the lord. “You said that you’d leave here, leave me alive if I told you the truth.”
    “I did? No, uh-uh, sorry. I don’t recall saying that.” The warrior swung his sword back, and flames exploded along the whole of the metallic edge. Cornellus cried out and hurled himself backward, tumbling across the floor. The human raised his blazing weapon high, took a swing at the hulking bandit lord—and missed, distracted by his companion’s shout.
    “To your right!” cried the dwarf, springing at the first of two or three draconians who crashed through part of the fire-weakened wall behind Cornellus. The winged creatures swarmed at themout of the dark, as the bandit lord shouted orders and curses and scrambled away.
    With one axe blow, the dwarf dispatched the first draconian, who petrified instantly. The second one pounced atop the dwarf and bore him to the floor, snapping wildly with his huge jaws. The third kicked and stomped, but the human warrior materialized from behind, swinging his blazing sword, killing first the one atop Dram, then his gaping fellow. He kicked away the bodies as they began to petrify.
    “Where’s Cornellus?” asked Dram, springing to his feet, axe still in hand.
    The warrior peered ahead, realizing that the draconians had entered through a hidden storeroom. “There’s a door back there—he went out that way.” He started in that direction, his fiery sword raised over his head.
    Above, flames roared through the ceiling, consuming the straw thatching overhead, sending cinders and ash spilling down into the warren of rooms. Smoke grew thicker, radiating heat. Burning straw and pieces of the ceiling fell, crackling and blazing, cascading sparks across the floor.
    “Damn.” The man frowned then turned and hacked the blazing sword into one wooden support pillar, then another. Fire ran up the dried poles, crackling hungrily, adding to the rapidly growing conflagration.
    The dwarf laid a firm hand on his elbow. “Wait!” Dram said urgently
    “For what?” demanded the human.
    They heard shouts, the stamping of running feet, cries of warning and fury. The man grimaced and shook his head as the dwarf looked into his face and spoke. “Time to get out of here.”
    “Damn!” the warrior repeated. Again he chopped that blazing sword into a wooden pillar. More fire crackled up and out.
    “To the horses!” Dram