The safe room was pleasant, and the fake birds continued to sing as Jeremy glared at the four gnomes and pulled out his sword. “I spit on Cleansing Wind!”

  He found himself outside the safe room. When the vertigo from the dungeon's teleport subsided, he took a deep breath and struggled to calm down. Gnomes were fairly high up in the Cleansing Wind hierarchy, directly beneath humans and dwarves. It made sense they'd be part of that order. Maybe they were evil, or perhaps they'd had no choice. For them, it might have been join the Cleansing Wind or die. Jeremy didn't know.

  He took a deep breath, sheathed his sword, and reentered the safe room.

  “I apologize,” he said, holding up empty hands. “Your beliefs and politics are not my concern. I'm here to trade.”

  “We're not really with Cleansing Wind,” a second gnome named Pufflpop said. “We told you we were because you're a human, and we thought you'd kill us if we weren't.” Pufflepop, a female and the only gnome without a beard, pulled out a piece of black cloth with a red shield shape in the middle. “We're really with Red Shield.”

  “Let me suggest they may be playing both sides of this conflict or are neutral parties telling you what you want to hear,” Flint said from beside him.

  “Thanks, Flint, I never would have suspected.”

  “That's why I'm here.”

  The Gnomes looked at each other nervously.

  At this point, Jeremy didn't know what to believe, and he supposed it didn't matter. “Let me propose a truce. Don't attack me, and I won't attack you. Now, as I was saying, I'm here to trade.” He pulled out the box containing his gun. “I have a gnome gun and two bullets. I need more bullets and instructions on how to use the gun.”

  “That's sacred gnome knowledge,” Fluzzum, a 10th-level gnome Child Fighter with a Merchant profession, said, eyeing Jeremy nervously.

  Jeremy remembered his experience with the kobolds. He pulled out 100 dungeon coin and tossed it in the air so it landed between them. “How sacred?” He thought of something. “Oh. I know a secret section on this floor of the dungeon. I can tell you how to access it. This section is extremely dangerous and I don't recommend you go there. But the information should be worth a lot to the right people.”

  “Could we see the gun?” Fizzlepuff asked. “It's possible your gun is also broken and its repair would have to be factored into any negotiations.”

  Jeremy nodded and opened the box.

  Their reaction surprised him.

  “Ooooooh,” Fluzzum said, dropping to his knees and touching the box, looking awed. “That's the Piff Snizzle.”

  “The Piff Snizzle is a myth. It doesn't exist,” Fizzlepuff snorted, kneeling beside Fluzzum, touching the box, then caressing the gun and bullets with his fingertips.

  “Piff Snizzle?” Jeremy asked. Then the dungeon translated the name, Piff Snizzle. Dragon Slayer.

  “Dragon Slayer?” Jeremy asked. “This gun can kill a dragon?”

  “It's not real,” Fizzlepuff said. “It can't be real.”

  “It looks real,” said Fluzzum.

  “The gun existed,” the female gnome, Pufflpop insisted. “A 91st-level grandmaster craftsman forged it from the heart of Snizzle Mountain.”

  “That gun never existed.” Fizzlepuff snorted. He motioned to the gun. “May I take a closer look?”

  Jeremy nodded.

  The gnome pulled the gun from its box. His hands caressed a symbol Jeremy had been unable to identify. “This is the signature of the legendary craftsman Fufto, next to the words Piff Snizzle in ancient text.” He handled the gun and the bullets, shaking his head. “I don't know.”

  “Over a millennium ago, Pufflpop said, “a kingdom was attacked by two powerful elder dragons. The kingdom's greatest craftsman, Fufto, forged the Piff Snizzle and gave it to the kingdom's champion, an 80th-level fighter. The champion fired it three times, killing one of the dragons and wounding the second so badly that a small force of wizards was able to finish it off. That was when being a gnome meant something.”

  “Then the Piff Snizzle supposedly vanished,” Fizzlepuff said, “never to be seen again.”

  “Returned to the gods,” Pufflpop said, “to be given to us at our greatest time of need.”

  “Because Gnomes have never needed it until now?” said Fekfuf, an 11th-level fighter/merchant.

  “The Piff Snizzle never existed,” Fizzlepuff said. “But this gun feels real. If one of the most powerful and dangerous dungeons in the universe created an imitation of a mythical weapon. The gun could be almost as valuable as the real thing would have been.”

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  “The Children's Dungeon is the most powerful and deadly in the universe?” Jeremy asked.

  “The Child Eater, you mean,” Fekfuf spat on the ground. “Children enter this dungeon, and they do not return. If the monsters don't kill you, the other adventurers will.”

  “So what are you doing here?” Jeremy asked.

  “We had no choice,” Fizzlepuff said. He pulled out a large (for a gnome) rifle. “This gun can hold ten shots. I'll give you the gun, bullets, mana powder, and I'll teach you how to use it, in exchange for your gun.”

  Jeremy did Identify.

  Medium quality gnome rifle, able to fire ten shots before reloading.

  “Why would I make a trade like that?” Jeremy asked. “The gun I have is way better, but I need bullets. I will pay you for bullets, and like I said, I know of another section of the dungeon.”

  Fizzlepuff snorted. “It would take a 50th-level master craftsman, and impossible to find materials to even consider forging bullets for the Piff Snizzle. Furthermore, the Piff Snizzle is useless to you. Even if you could summon the huge amount of mana needed to activate it and somehow make it work, the shock from firing the gun would turn your body into jelly and kill you instantly.”

  Pufflepop spoke up. “According to ancient myth, the gun was charged up by a small army of wizards. And even the legendary 80th-level fighter Puffirsniggle could fire it only three times before he had to withdraw, and it took him ten days to recover.”

  “The gun is worthless to you, but to us gnomes it's priceless,” Fekfuf said. “Take anything of ours you want, but give us the gun.”

  “No,” Jeremy said, standing up. “The gun is not for sale. All that means is I have to get stronger to use it. I intend to be strong before I leave this dungeon, and when I leave, there is someone I wish to kill with it.”

  There was a loud moan from Flint. “Jeremy, you're a rogue! You will never be strong enough to fire this weapon. Trade it to the gnomes; they have all kinds of useful things.”

  “Shut up, Flint,” Jeremy hissed, shutting the gun-box lid and putting it back in storage.

  The gnomes looked nervously at each other before glaring at Jeremy.

  “Are you sure you won't trade?” Fizzlepuff asked.

  “Yes.”

  The gnomes looked at each other for over a minute in silent communication, then Fizzlepuff sighed. “Fine. In exchange for your information on the dungeon and one thousand dungeon coin, we'll teach you everything we know about your gun, including how to fire it. Should you truly want to attempt something so suicidally insane.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Done. Teach me how to shoot, and I will give you the information and coin.”

  “No,” Fizzlepuff said. “First, you will tell us about the dungeon's secret, then we'll teach you about your gun. When you are satisfied with our teaching, you will pay us the thousand dungeon coin. I think this is fair.”

  Jeremy thought it over. This did seem reasonable. “Okay. Oh! One more thing!” He pulled out his magic smithy. “Do you know anything about this?”

  Fizzlepuff glared at him. “A magic smithy? Is there anything you don't have? Am I to assume this, too, is not for sale?”

  “Yes,” Jeremy said.

  “Fizzlepuff will teach you how to use the smithy for another thousand dungeon coin,” Fekfuf said.

  “Fekfuf!” Fizzlepuff protested. “The only magic smith I know of is a dwarf who doesn't even speak to gnomes, much less teach them. I've never even been near a magic smithy. But if you fire it up, Jeremy, I'd be willing to take a look at it, free of charge.”

  With a shrug, Jeremy activated the smithy, figuring he had nothing to lose. As soon as Jeremy filled the smithy with mana, the gnomes gathered around it. “Ooooh,” the gnomes exclaimed, examining every nook and cranny. It occurred to Jeremy that if he needed to entertain gnomes in the future, he'd show them a gun or some machinery. They seemed easily impressed.

  “I am a craftsman,” Fizzlepuff said. “While smithing is a form of crafting, I've never done it before. But many principles are the same between different types of crafting.” He pulled out an old, chipped dagger and turned the handle on the smithy's sharpening stone slowly, while brushing the dagger's edge gently against the rotating grindstone.

  The dagger changed from a medium-quality dagger with a damaged edge to a medium-quality dagger with a sharp edge.

  “Wow,” Jeremy said, seeing the gnome do something he'd been attempting for over a year.

  “I was right,” Fizzlepuff said. “At the lowest levels, working in a smithy is the same as any other form of magic crafting.”

  “You need to teach me how you did that. And do you have a crafting bench? Teach me crafting.”

  The gnomes looked at each other again in a way that made Jeremy nervous. As if there was something they weren't telling him.

  “Crafting is sacred gnome knowledge,” Fekfuf said. “We could not teach you crafting for anything less than 1000 dungeon coin.”

  “I suspected as much,” Jeremy said with a sigh. “Fine. Teach me crafting and how to use the smithy.”

  “Teaching you everything I know about crafting would take years, and I'm sure the dungeon would kick us out before I finished,” Fizzlepuff said. “But I can teach you the basics, and what little I know of the magical smithy.”

  “Fine.” Jeremy tossed the gnomes a 1000 dc coin. “To start with, what is the difference between magic crafting and smithing?”

  “There are many types of magic crafting,” Fizzlepuff responded. “Magic cooking, that is, cooking with magically enhanced ingredients. Alchemy, making magic potions. There are also weavers, potters, jewelers, and shoemakers.” Fizzlepuff put away the sharpened knife and pulled out another damaged one. “I'm what you'd call a tinker. I specialize in the upkeep and repair of magical gnome machines.”

  Jeremy noticed the other three gnomes wandered off, talking among themselves, but they never strayed far.

  The gnome traded places with Jeremy. “I want you to focus your magical energy, or mana, on the grindstone and the knife. If you do it right, the grindstone will do the actual work.”

  “So that's it?” Jeremy asked. “I focus mana on the tools and they do the work?”

  “For the basic repairs,” Fizzlepuff said. “To do anything more advanced, you need mana-enhanced wood or coal. Do you have any?”

  Jeremy shook his head.

  “Just as well,” Fizzlepuff said. “That's beyond my limited expertise.”

  Jeremy did his best to focus his mana into the grindstone and knife, but when he spun the grindstone, it turned too fast, and the knife shattered in his hands, changing from a low-quality dagger with a dull edge to a broken dagger. Better luck next time.