Behind this new Slayer stood another dwarf, shorter, fatter and altogether more civilised looking. He was about half Felix's height, but very broad. His well-groomed beard reached almost to the ground. His wide eyes blinked owlishly from behind enormously thick glasses. In his ink-stained fingers he carried a large brass-bound book.

"Snorri Nosebiter, as I live and breathe!" Gotrek roared, his nasty smile revealing missing teeth. "It's been awhile! What are you doing here?"

"Snorri's here for the same reason as you, Gotrek Gurnisson. Snorri got a letter from old Borek the Scholar, telling Snorri to come to the Lonely Tower."

"Don't try and fool me. I know you can't read, Snorri. All the words were bashed out of your head when those nails were bashed in."

"Hogan Longbeard translated it for Snorri," Snorri said, looking as embarrassed as it was possible for such a hulking Trollslayer to look. He glanced around him, obviously wanting to change the subject.

"Snorri thinks he missed a good fight," the dwarf said, eyeing the scene of terrible violence with the same sort of wistful regret that Gotrek had expended on his spilled ale. "Snorri thinks he'd better have a beer then. Snorri has a bit of a thirst!"

"Ten beers for Snorri Nosebiter!" Gotrek roared. "And better make that ten for me as well. Snorri hates to drink alone."

An appalled silence filled the room. The other patrons looked at the scene of the battle then at the two dwarfs as if they were kegs of gunpowder with a burning fuse. Slowly, in ones and twos, they got up and left, until only Gotrek, Felix, Snorri and the other dwarf were left.

"First to ten?" Snorri enquired, knuckling his eye and looking up at Gotrek cunningly.

"First to ten," Gotrek agreed.

The other dwarf waddled towards them and bowed, politely in the dwarfish fashion, raising his beard with one hand to keep it from dragging on the ground as he leaned forward.

"Varek Varigsson of the Clan Grimnar at your service," he said in a mild, pleasant voice. "I see you got my uncle's message."

Snorri and Gotrek looked at him, seemingly astonished by his politeness, then began to laugh. Varek flushed with embarrassment.

"Better get this youth a beer as well!" Gotrek shouted. "He looks like he could use being loosened up a little. Now stand aside, youngling, Snorri and I have a bet to settle."

The landlord smiled ingratiatingly. A look of relief passed over his face. It looked like the dwarfs were set on more than making up for all the custom they had driven away.

The landlord lined the beers up along the low counter. Ten sat in front of Gotrek, ten in front of Snorri. The dwarfs inspected them the way a man might inspect an opponent before a wrestling match. Snorri looked over at Gotrek, then looked back at the beer again. A swift lunge brought him within range of his chosen target. He grabbed the flagon, lifted it to his lips, tilted back his head and swallowed. Gotrek was a fraction slower to the draw. His jack of ale reached his lips a second after Snorri's. There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of dwarfs glugging, then Snorri slammed his flagon back on the table a fraction of a second before Gotrek slammed his. Felix looked over in astonishment. Both flagons had been drained to the last drop.

"First one's easiest," Gotrek said. Snorri seized another flagon, grabbed a second with his other hand and repeated the performance. Gotrek did the same. He snatched up one in each hand, raised one to his lips, drained it, then drained the other. This time it was Gotrek who put down his beers fractionally before Snorri. Felix was staggered, particularly when he considered how much beer Gotrek had already drunk before Snorri had arrived. It looked like the two Slayers were entering into a well practiced ritual. Felix wondered if they really intended to drink all that beer.

"I'm embarrassed to be seen drinking with you, Snorri. A girly elf could do three in time it took you to down those," Gotrek said.

Snorri gave him a disgusted look, reached for another ale and tipped it back so fast that suds erupted from his mouth and frothed over his beard. He wiped his mouth with the back of one tattooed forearm. This time he finished before Gotrek.

"At least all my beer went in my mouth," Gotrek said, nodding his head until his nose chain jingled.

"Are you talking or drinking?" Snorri challenged.

Five, six, seven beers went down in quick succession. Gotrek looked at the ceiling, smacked his lips and let out an enormous cavernous belch. Snorri swiftly echoed it. Felix exchanged glances with Varek. The scholarly young dwarf looked back at him and shrugged his shoulders. In less than a minute the two Slayers had put back more beer than Felix would normally drink in one night. Gotrek blinked and his eyes looked slightly glassy, but this was the only sign he gave of the enormous amount of alcohol he had just consumed. Snorri looked not the slightest worse for wear, but then he had not been drinking all night already.

Gotrek reached out and downed number eight, but by that time Snorri was already half way through number nine. As he set down the flagon, he said, "Looks like you'll be paying for the beer."

Gotrek didn't answer. He picked up two flagons at once, one in each hand, tilted back his head, opened his gullet and poured. There was no sound of gulping. He was not swallowing, just letting the beer run straight down his throat. Snorri was so impressed by the feat that he forgot to pick up his own last pint before Gotrek had finished.

Gotrek stood there swaying slightly. He belched, hiccupped and sat down on his stool.

"The day you can out-drink me, Snorri Nosebiter, is the day Hell freezes over."

"That will be the day after the day you pay for a beer, Gotrek Gurnisson," Snorri said, sitting down beside his fellow Trollslayer.

"Well, so much for starters," he continued. "Let's get down to some serious drinking then. Looks like Snorri has some catching up to do."

"Is that proper World's Edge tabac you have there, Snorri?" Gotrek asked, looking hungrily at the stuff Snorri was tamping into his pipe. They had all settled down by the roaring fire in the best seats in the house.

"Aye, "tis old Mouldy Leaf. Snorri picked it up in the mountains afore coming here."

"Give some here!"

Snorri tossed the pouch over to Gotrek, who produced a pipe and started filling it. The Slayer glared over at the scholarly young dwarf with his one good eye.

"So, youth," Gotrek growled What is the mighty doom your Uncle Borek has promised me? And why is old Snorri here?"

Felix leaned forward interestedly. He wanted to know more about this himself. He was intrigued by the thought of a summons which could excite even the normally morose and taciturn Slayer.

Varek looked at Felix warningly. Gotrek shook his head and took a sip of beer. He leaned forward, lighted a spill of wood in the fire then lit his pipe. Once the pipe was burning well, he leaned back in his chair and spoke earnestly.

"Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of the man-ling. He is a Dwarf Friend and an Oathkeeper."

Snorri looked up at Felix. Surprise and something like respect showed in his dull, brutish eyes. Varek's smile showed sincere interest and he turned to Felix and bowed once more, almost falling out of his chair.

"I'm sure there is a tale there," he said. "I'd be most interested in hearing it."

"Don't try and change the subject," Gotrek said. "What is this doom your kinsman has promised me? His letter dragged me halfway across the Empire and I want to hear about it."

"I wasn't trying to change the subject, Herr Gurnisson. I simply wanted to get the information for my book."

"There will be time enough for that later. Now speak!"