The yellow-headed barbarian had beensleeping but a short and fitful time when thesinister troop of dwarfs stole down uponhim.The shutters of the inn’s large windowcreaked open. A bulbous, misshapen headstood out against the stars in the opening.Another appeared, a third.Faint monkeylike footfalls scurriedover the roof tiles. A half dozen little bodiesleaped from the roof to the yard outside thewindow, a half dozen more, until the starrynight sky seemed to rain tiny figures. Dwarf hands clasped the sill. Then, with a batlike belling of a silken cloak, the first of themwas inside.Lonesome and weary after riding manydays down through the hills to the port beside the purple-foamed sea, Brak the barbarian had feasted heavily at the emptyinn. He’d squandered his last few dinshasfor wine, and the wine had taken its toll. Hesprawled full length atop a trestle table now,stirring and muttering in haunted sleep as,on tiny feet, the dwarfs came jumping