The Dungeoneers by John David Anderson Page A

piece.”
    â€œOne piece?” Colm said.
    â€œYou make sure we don’t run into any traps, and Quinn and I will handle any monsters that come along.”
    â€œMonsters?”
    â€œT-t-traps?” Quinn repeated.
    â€œPlease,” Lena said. “You don’t think they would throw us all down here and not give us something to do, do you?” She reached out and took the torch from Quinn’s hand, then turned and continued along the same path that Colm had been taking. Colm watched her for a second, trying to decide if she was dangerous.
    He was almost certain of it.
    But she didn’t seem like she posed any immediate threat to him, at least, and obviously she and this other boy hadagreed to work together, even seemed to know each other somehow. Colm had no idea what Herm Hefflegeld’s theories of proper party configuration had to do with anything, but he did understand that three people were better than one, and was thankful not to be alone any longer. Still, he walked behind her as he had walked behind Finn at the start. The boy named Quinn shuffled beside him, nearly tripping over his oversized robe.
    â€œSo y-you’re a ruh-rogue?” he mumbled.
    Actually, Colm thought, I’m just a pickpocket. And only recently one of those. “More or less,” he said, then nodded at the boy’s strange attire. “And what are you, exactly?” Quinn looked like a kid who had decided to try on his father’s bathing gown.
    â€œOh, m-me? I’m a m-m-m-m-mageling,” the boy said.
    â€œIt’s like a mage. Only clumsier,” Lena explained from over her shoulder, and Quinn nodded. He didn’t seem to take offense.
    Colm instinctively stepped away, remembering what Finn had said about mages. Except Quinn didn’t look like he could call lightning from the sky or produce fireballs from his fingers. Colm had expected the first wizard he met to be more in keeping with the descriptions from his book—white-bearded and billowing and larger than life. Quinn looked barely big enough to summon his own shadow. Colm nodded toward Lena and whispered to Quinn, “So, then, what is she?”
    Whatever she was, she obviously had good hearing, because she stopped and spun. “I am a barbarian,” she responded curtly. “At least, I hope to be someday.”
    Colm shook his head. From what little he’d read, barbarians were loud, long-haired, half-naked men who spoke in bellows and ate their meat raw. “Really? A barbarian? You? Are you sure about that?”
    â€œUh-oh,” Quinn whispered.
    The girl suddenly advanced on Colm, her eyes slits, teeth bared. She looked terrifying in the torchlight. “Are you suggesting I can’t be a barbarian?” Colm threw up his hands, shaking his head, but she started jabbing a finger into his chest. “Because there is absolutely no law that says women can’t be barbarians. In fact, I’ll have you know there are several famous female barbarians in dungeoneering lore.”
    â€œNo. I believe you, honestly,” Colm said. He had never met a barbarian before. Not even the half-naked, raw-meat-eating male variety.
    â€œJust because I don’t wear the hide of some dead animal across my shoulders and I have all my teeth does not mean that I’m not a barbarian.”
    â€œI . . . I never . . . you are . . . absolutely . . . so completely a barbarian,” Colm stumbled.
    Lena huffed, then spun back around and started walking faster down the dark hall.
    â€œShe really is nice, once you get to know her,” Quinn said, gathering his robe about him as he and Colm each quickened his pace to catch up.
    Once you get to know her? Colm thought. “Wait a minute. How long have you two been down here?”
    â€œWe were friends before,” Quinn explained as they came toanother fork. “We come from the same town. We are pretty much in this together. And now so are