“Greetings. I take it you are part of the household? If you were not, I suspect you would be dead.”
The dwarf leered up at Naraal. “I serve here,” he said.
“Naraal of Umbar,” said the Corsair with a bow. “I also serve.”
“Duzir,” was all the dwarf said as introduction.
“Doo-zer,” said Naraal, ignoring the dwarf’s glare, “I have only just met the lady of the house. She is quite unlike what I expected.”
Duzir made a low chuckle. “She is full of surprises!”
“She is Captain Greenfield’s aunt, yet she does not look a day over twenty.”
“Twenty?” The dwarf clucked his tongue in disapproval.
“Eighteen, then,” replied Naraal.
“That is better! Do not let her hear you say she looks twenty years old.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
The dwarf continued to stare up at him with his beady black eyes, deep set under thick bushy eyebrows so that the whites were not visible.
“Can you tell me what goes on here in this house?”
Duzir twirled his mustache and replied, “All in good time, all in good time; I do not tell tales out of school. Does Naraal of Umbar wish for anything else to eat or drink?”
“Hunger is not foremost in my thoughts.”
At this the dwarf leered even wider, revealing several small sharp yellow teeth. “Thoughts of other things?” he suggested, and made a filthy chuckle in his throat.
“You need some of those teeth pulled, friend,” Naraal said, and did not even bother to hide the note of disgust in his voice.
The dwarf stroked each tip of his mustache in the manner of an aficionado who relays timely advice on his particular subject of expertise to a novice, and still smiling, informed Naraal, “She is pleased with you.”
“And I am well-pleased with her,” declared Naraal. “It is a shame that her hair is not red or she would be sheer perfection.”
“What! Why want red hair when it is gold!”
Naraal grinned. “Gold is beautiful, but red is rare. You want the truth? My sister had red hair.”
Duzir looked surprised, then crowed out with prurient delight, “Desired your sister, I see!”
“No, nothing of the sort! It is just that when we were children I thought she had the most alluringly beautiful red hair. I would tell her that I wanted a wife with hair just like hers, and she would laugh.” Naraal sighed. “She is dead."
“Killed her, eh?”
“She killed herself. Her beauty was taken from this world. I could not save her.”
“Hmpf. That is a waste.”
“She was pledged to wed someone she abhorred and ran away instead. That was the last I saw of her, when she jumped off the cliff, Doozer -”
“My name is pronounced ‘Du-Zeer’!” snapped the dwarf. “You said you were from Umbar! Don’t you know how to pronounce your own tongue?”
Naraal shook his head, an absentminded look in his eyes. “I shall make more of an effort.”
“Try,” growled Duzir.
“Perhaps I have been amongst the men of the West too long, Du-zeer,” he said, making a point to emphasize the second syllable correctly this time.
“Talk sense, Man.”
“What do you mean?" said Naraal.
“Your speech wanders like a vagabond. She has this effect,” the dwarf confided, and stroked his beard, once again looking very knowledgeable about such matters.
“Oh - you think it is the Lady Zairaphel’s influence upon me?”
Duzir nodded.
“You may be right. My mind keeps wandering back to her - but then I think of her nephew.”
“So?”
“Captain Greenfield - for that is what I call him - is not one to be crossed. I suspect he would not be pleased if I were to pursue his aunt. He has his mission; he wants everything focused on it; I shall not tempt his wrath.”
The proposition sent Duzir into a spasm of fresh mustache-twirling. “So?” he said again, making another nasty snaggle-toothed leer. “You cannot spend every moment of the day on that; and he is not always here, and at night he sleeps.”
“I will consider it,” said Naraal, already thinking how he would proceed. As if he read his mind, Duzir informed him that the third step of the staircase squeaked. “Useful to know,” he murmured in acknowledgement. The Captain’s sleeping quarters were situated close beside the stairs.
“Now you owe me a favor: one good turn deserves another!”
“I did not ask you for that information. Although I am in a good mood - I might grant you a favor: it depends on what it is,” Naraal said, superciliously.
“Never mind for now!” said the dwarf, turning away to leave, for the melodious voice of his mistress was calling him from upstairs.
“Very well,” said Naraal. “I appreciate your advice. It is good for us servants to help one another.”
“We will see about that.”
“Go, friend. She calls.”
Duzir paused on the stairs for one last yellowy leer. “You wish you were me.”
“No, I am quite happy being me,” Naraal replied, but the dwarf was already gone.
