But Gotrek was now looking at the stranger as well.

The recent arrival was, if anything, bigger and more muscular than Gotrek. His head was shaved and his beard cropped short. He had no crest of hair; instead it looked for all the world like nails had been driven into his skull to make a crest and then painted in different colours. His nose had been broken so many times it was shapeless. One ear was cauliflowered; the other had actually been ripped clean away, leaving only a hole in the side of his head. A huge ring was set in his nose. Where his body was not criss-crossed with scars it was covered in tattoos. In one hand he held an enormous hammer and thrust in his belt was a short-hafted, broad-bladed axe.

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.