Boпndil scanned the horizon longingly and licked his lips. Tungdil heard him making "oink" noises under his breath.

A while later they took their leave of the peddler and rode on.

To keep their purse stocked with coins, Tungdil jobbed as a smith, helped by the brothers, who also ornamented window frames and doorways with wonderful carvings. That way they kept themselves in ham and cheese while making good progress toward Lot-Ionan's vaults.

"You've got bits of cheese in your beard," Tungdil said to Boпndil at the end of a meal.

"What of it?"

"Well, it's not nice to look at," he answered, trying to be diplomatic.

Boпndil ran a hand over his chin and dislodged the largest morsels.

"There's still…"

"Look here," Boпndil told him brusquely, "the rest can stay where it is. It keeps the whiskers sleek and smooth." As if to emphasize the point, a bread crumb fell from his lips and landed in his beard.

Tungdil had an image of the hairs coming to life and feeding on the scraps. It would explain why nits weren't a problem; the whiskers would gobble them up before they had a chance to settle. "Surely the girl dwarves must have something to say about your-"

"There you go again!" Boпndil clapped Tungdil on the back and grinned lewdly. There was cheese between his teeth. "Always on about girl dwarves."

"Patience, scholar," Boлndal advised him. "Play your cards right, and you'll find out firsthand. You're not bad-looking; I'm sure we'll find you a suitable lass."

"And then what do I do?"

"You make eyes at her, of course." Boлndal gave him a playful dig in the ribs. "You sing her a song. You give her a hand-forged ring. Then you kiss her feet, cover her in a nice thick coating of her favorite cheese, swing her four times in a circle, and the gates to her Girdlegard will open."

"That's…It doesn't say that in the books," said Tungdil, bewildered. He looked at Boлndal, whose eyes sparkled roguishly. Boпndil couldn't contain himself any longer and let out a side-splitting guffaw.

"Idiots," huffed Tungdil. "It's not funny, you know. I can't help it if I've never met a female dwarf."

"We didn't mean to offend you," apologized Boпndil, wiping away tears of merriment. "But maybe you should try it; it seems to work for Boлndal!"

That was it; his brother dissolved into laughter too, the gentle hills of Ionandar echoing with their mirth.

"Just be yourself," said Boлndal, endeavoring to be serious. "I can't speak for everyone, but it's no good pretending to be something you're not."

"He used to say he was a poet," his brother chuckled. "His lady friends never believed it, but with you it might work."

"What sort of presents do they like best?"

"Ah, very cunning," exclaimed Boлndal. "Sorry, scholar, but you can't bribe your way into a lady's heart. There's no secret formula. Either she likes you, and she'll tell you as much; or she doesn't."

"And she'll tell you about that too," Boпndil added merrily.

"I wouldn't wish that on anyone," said his brother, "but if she likes you, well… anything is possible. But enough about womenfolk."

Their journey continued, and after several orbits Tungdil began to recognize his surroundings, which meant they were getting closer to Lot-Ionan's vaults.

He was looking forward to seeing the famuli and being reunited with Frala and her daughters. They'll never believe that I'm an heir to the throne! To prove that he hadn't forgotten her, he knotted Frala's scarf around his belt.

After a while they came to a river. A ferry was moored on the opposite bank near the ferry master's house and smoke was rising from the chimney.

Tungdil reached up to ring the bell that was suspended from a tree beside the berth. That way the ferry master would know to come and fetch them.

Boпndil grabbed his hand. "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling the ferry, unless you'd prefer to swim," said Tungdil. "It's either that or get the boat."

Boпndil eyed the swirling water. The river was lapping against the banks. "We'll go a different way," he decided. "It's too deep here. We could fall in and drown."

"You could fall off your pony and break your neck," Tungdil countered sharply. "Come on, Boпndil, it's too far to the next crossing-two orbits, at least." When he saw the twins' stony faces, he knew it was useless to protest. "It's this way," he sighed, pointing upriver. "But I don't see what's wrong with the boat."

It was all the encouragement that Boлndal needed to launch into the story of why dwarves and water didn't get along.

"Long ago, Elria put a curse on us. Elria was born of water and water was her element. From the beginning, she took a dislike to the dwarves-Vraccas's fire-loving, furnace-tending children couldn't have been more different from her water-dwelling creatures. To protect her children, she put a curse on the dwarves, and now any dwarf who ventures into water outside his kingdom is doomed to drown."

Lakes, rivers, ponds, or streams-according to the twins, even puddles could pose a mortal danger, and they avoided water at all costs.

"It's an excellent excuse for not washing," Tungdil told them.

They rode until nightfall and arrived the following orbit at the ford. When the time came to cross, the brothers waded nervously through the fast-flowing water, the river swirling ferociously about their thighs as if it intended to carry them off.

It was evening when they finally neared the entrance to the tunnel leading into Lot-Ionan's vaults. Boлndal and Boпndil grew uneasy at the thought of wizardry and spells.

"I didn't like coming here the first time," grumbled Boпndil. "Lot-Ionan is a nice enough fellow, I'll grant you, but he's a magus. At least we dwarves have the good sense to know that hocus-pocus never did anyone any good. We stay away from it. If Vraccas had wanted us to dabble in magic, he would have given us wands." He stared at Tungdil suspiciously. "You understand that, don't you? I hope he hasn't given you any daft ideas…"

"I can't weave magic," Tungdil said soothingly. "I've never even tried." He stopped for a second and looked at the brothers imploringly. "Promise me you'll treat him respectfully. Without his charitable intervention, there wouldn't be another claimant to the throne. In fact, it's only because of his salutary-"

"Listen to him!" Boлndal said sarcastically, mimicking his voice. "Do you hear the scholar speaking? Quite the gentleman, isn't he? He must be refining himself for highfaluffing conversations with a more h-h-educated race."

"Highfalutin," Tungdil corrected him with a smile. "All right, point taken. Either way, be nice to him or say nothing at all. You can wait at the gates if you'd rather. I'll be fine on my own."

It was already dark by the time they got there. Even from a distance Tungdil could see that the door to the tunnel was ajar. It was usually bolted and protected with a magic incantation, but one of the famuli must have forgotten to do his job.

Tungdil grinned mischievously, his tanned face creasing around his eyes. Whoever was guilty of such negligence would soon regret it. He intended to give the vault's inhabitants the shock of their lives.

"Tut-tut," Boпndil said disapprovingly when they reached the open door. "The confounded thing better not close behind us. What if it's a trap to catch innocent travelers?"

"Why would the magus want to trap travelers?" his brother inquired.

"To try out new gobbledygook on them, of course! You don't think he'd experiment on his own apprentices, do you? He needs to be sure that his wizardry works." He looked to Lot-Ionan's protйgй for confirmation, but Tungdil chose not to get involved. Boпndil unhooked an ax from his belt and mumbled threateningly into his beard. "If any of those wand-wielders so much as looks at me oddly, I'll show them what for."