Jak Barley-Private Inquisitor and the Case of the Seven Dwarves by Dan Ehl Page B

the boot. A gray material I believe he called duck tape enclosed the toe of the boot.
    I had no sooner tied the twine when Lorenzo emerged from the trees. He slipped off his backpack and observed, "Ah, the patient stirs. I have brought sustenance to aid his recuperation."
    I expected him to proudly display a deftly gutted and skinned rabbit or dwarf marsh goat. He instead produced a paper-wrapped bundle. I cautiously unwrapped the parcel to discover a double slice of bread holding a breaded pork tenderloin. My eyes grew wide.
    "You have been to the Coal Diggers Tavern" I exclaimed. School memories of the spicy sandwich made my mouth water. This was much better fare than the inn's other specialty--garlic-mint turtle soup.
    I felt almost human after the meal and a quick bath in the chilly pool. A change of clothes was called for, but as best as possible I brushed the leaves and cave grime from my garments.
    I hoped the dark green tunic was not ruined. It was subdued enough for when subterfuge was called for, but the bit of red embroidery along the felt cuffs and collar gave it a hint of jauntiness. I had walked passed the Appanoosian peddler's booth several days in a row before finally stopping. Though I could not haggle the price down to my satisfaction, I bought the tunic and wore it that night to the King's Wart Inn. As I speculated, Marlune the barmaid found I cut quite the dashing figure in it.
    Lorenzo and I followed the trampled vegetation beaten down by the goblins. Once down the hillside, we emerged onto a trail. The road would have been well rocked when the region was still producing coal, but it was now hard-packed dirt and heavily rutted. We followed it east. The route was littered with shattered wheel spokes, broken crockery, rotting frames of cargo wagons, and clumps of rust that once must have been pieces of mining equipment. There was no sign the goblins or anyone else had recently been this way.
    Among the bordering saplings and weeds were cobblestone walks leading to collapsed cellars and the half tumbled walls of cottages. Now and then a lone bloom spoke of where a flower garden had been tended. There was an air of sadness to the abandonment.
    We crossed a creek and turned to follow it down a small valley. A thin string of smoke arising from the trees was our first clue we were near the Coal Diggers Tavern. The dirt path turning to a brick lane was the second indication. Weeds were forcing their way between the bricks and some had been pushed aside by small trees. These signs of nature grew fewer as we approached the two-story limestone structure that was the Coal Diggers Tavern. No doubt shops and other hostels had hemmed the stretch of paved street when weary miners once came to the village to spend their hard earned coin.
    A string of sad nags and several carts were tethered before the wraparound porch. A few patrons sat on benches with mugs in hand and glared as we passed them to push our way through the twin doors.
    It was still much the same as in my private inquisitor academy days. The long bonewood bar, the moth-eaten heads of musk lizards and mountain gerbils mounted on the walls. Floors carpeted with crushed garlic nut shells. The candles created islands of light around the tables scattered across the floor, with some hidden among the shadowed corners--none of it had changed. Even the smell of rich fare drifting from the kitchen doors triggered vivid memories of the inn. Yet there was something different. It came to me as we wound our way through the tables on our way to the bar. It was the patrons.
    During the days of my youth, the inn mainly catered to local smugglers, poachers, and scavengers. This crowd was different. If I was not mistaken, there be Itchy Fingers leaning across his table and talking in what sounded like tones of conspiracy to Razor Driz, an unprincipled fence who plies his trade on the south side of Duburoake. There had been talk of the disappearance of a spice shipment from