“Thieeeeeeeffff!” Sir Tanar howled as he crawled from beneath the bed. His long yellow fingernails clawed at the floor. “Thief! Stop, thief!”

“Hurry, Conundrum!” Razmous cried. “Throw it out the window!”

The gnome picked up the box and turned toward the open window, swinging the box back, preparing to hurl it like a mechanical discus thrower at the Mount Nevermind Games. Sir Tartar scrambled to his knees and pointed one clawlike finger at the gnome. “Stop! I command you!”

Conundrum felt as if his limbs had been turned to stone. He froze in place, his feet rooted to the floor, unable to even move an eyelid. Sir Tanar drew a dagger from his gray robes.

“Oh, that’s impressive!” the kender said with a gasp. “Some kind of spell, I bet. I guess you’ve recovered from the dwarf spirits.”

“Dwarf spirits?” the Thorn Knight snarled, spinning on his heel to face the startled kender. The man crouched like an animal, back hunched, fingers curled into claws around the hilt of his dagger, unkept black hair hanging in lank strands across his face. “Who said anything about dwarf spirits, you thief?”

“Thief! Well, I never…” Razmous stammered, unable to continue as he choked in rage at this undeserved insult.

Tanar turned once more to Conundrum, who had not moved. He stepped closer and pried the box from the gnome’s iron grasp. “This box contains rare and priceless magics,” he grunted, tearing the box free.

“Oh, so that’s why Conundrum is frozen,” the kender said, forgetting for a moment his offended dignity. “Neat trick. Can you undo it?”

A strangled cry escaped the gnome’s clenched lips. “Ro roar. Ro roar, rease!”

“Who are you?” Sir Tanar growled, his eyes narrowing as he warily circled around the kender until he reached the desk. He set his box carefully on it, while never taking his eyes off the two.

“Razmous Pinchpocket,” the kender said, proffering his small brown hand. The Thorn Knight ignored it. “I am chief acquisitions officer aboard the MNS Indestructible, sailing out of Pax on Sancrist Isle. This is First Assistant Cartographer Conundrum, of Mount Nevermind.”

“Huh? What? The MNS Indestructible?" asked Sir Tanar, his speech slowing. “But you’re a… a… kender!”

“Yes!” Razmous beamed.

“So,” said Sir Tanar, licking his lips slightly, “you made it after all.” He turned and waved his hand absent-mindedly at the still-frozen gnome. Conundrum, suddenly free of the spell, finished his throw empty-handed, nearly pitching himself out the window. Razmous caught him and dragged the terrified gnome back into the room.

“Naturally! Was there ever any doubt?” Razmous said.

For over two months the gnomes stayed in Flotsam completing their modifications to the Indestructible. The ship had to be cut in half and the automatic retractable ram built into its superstructure. The three-inch-thick glass for the portholes had to be specially made, and the glazier’s kiln was not large enough to accommodate the gnomes” needs, so a new one had to be designed. A large dwarven forge was converted, much to the dismay of the gnomes, who wanted to build the new kiln from scratch and incorporate into it their latest theories on the generation of high temperature by burning compressed garbage pellets.

Most of their work was conducted under a shroud of the strictest security. Before ever a rivet was popped or a nail pulled, Commodore Brigg posted guards at checkpoints along the quay approaching their dry dock. He issued identification badges to the crew and to a few carefully-screened contractors, like the glazier and the man who delivered the beer. He armed the guards with crossbows from the ship’s weapons locker, for Flotsam was a seedy, disreputable town, and he feared the townspeople-pirates and thieves, every one-might steal even the barnacles from the ship’s hull.

Having recovered from his bout of dwarf spirits, Sir Tanar prowled Flotsam’s scant libraries and poorly-stocked bookstores collecting information on Istar, the Cataclysm that sank it beneath the waves, and the chasm at the heart of the Blood Sea that supposedly led to the Abyss. He gathered from his discussions with Conundrum and Chief Navigator Snork that the entrance to the fabled sub-Ansalonian passage was within this chasm. He had to make plans of his own, and at night he visited graveyards to cast spells of divination. Unfortunately, these offered little useful information. Even with the power he drained from the device, his spells seemed most often to go awry.

At long last, the day of departure finally arrived. It was a still autumn morning, with a bite of frost in the air. The Blood Bay lay like a mirror to the horizon. On the quays, the gnomes prepared to cast off. Commodore Brigg was anxious to get started. With Snork at his side, the commodore leaned against the rusty red rail of the conning tower and impatiently chewed his beard.

The Indestructible rode low in the water, laden with enough food, fresh water, glowworm moss, clean socks, and lubricating oil to carry them through to the other side. The automatic adjustable self-extending ram lay just below the waterline, as did many of the ship’s smaller portholes. The largest porthole was installed in the forward face of the conning tower, which made it possible for those on the bridge to see where they were going while submerged. Another large porthole was placed in the bow of the ship just above the ram, which meant it was smack in the middle of the wall in Conundrum’s former quarters-what had been the sail room and was now the quarters of Sir Tanar Lobcrow.

The ram itself was a marvel of gnomish engineering. It could be extended and retracted and even used as a hammer to drill through walls or widen narrow underwater passages. It operated under the same principle as the UAEP, with water pressure forcing it into its forward locked position in the Mink of an eye. To draw the ram back, one simply then drained the pressure tube and used a crank to return it to its retracted position.

The nose of the ram was fashioned of steel in the shape of a giant squid. The gnomes affectionately dubbed it the Automatic Adjustable Self-Extending Ram, or the Two-A-SER, which became the To-aser, the Toaser, and eventually the Toaster. Its only drawback was that it often took a few moments to pop out once engaged, and then only when one had begun to think it was stuck for good, which was quite startling the first three-dozen or so times they tested it.

Commodore Brigg and Navigator Snork saw three figures approaching along the docks. The shortest and the leading figure was Conundrum, dressed in a clean white robe and leather vest. Behind him bobbed Razmous, his pouches flapping about his thighs and chest as he hopped and skipped behind the gnome. Last of all strode a figure dressed in gray robes so long they dragged on the ground, hiding his feet. With the hood pulled up to hide his face and his hands folded into the sleeves, this last figure seemed to glide rather than walk.

“That’ll be Sir Tanar,” Snork commented as the three approached the ship and stopped at the end of the gangplank.

Commodore Brigg smoothed back the ruffled hair over his balding head, then grasped the lower hem of his dress uniform and gave it a sharp tug to smooth out the wrinkles. He had been looking forward to a glimpse of the Thorn Knight, who had steered clear of the submersible until now. All he had to go on was the somewhat fantastical reports relayed by the kender.

“Very good, Mister Snork,” the commodore said gruffly. “Invite our guest aboard.” His voice lingered sarcastically over the word “guest,” hissing the “s" as though to further emphasize his dislike of the circumstances.

The commodore passed his small, curious whistle to his first officer. Snork placed it to his lips and puffed out his cheeks. An eerie, three-note squeal erupted upon the air, setting every dog within a mile to howling balefully. It seemed an ill omen to the superstitious sailors who had gathered along the docks to watch the strange proceedings. They made signs to ward away evil.