The stars and moon were bright in a black sky before she staggered into the study, hoisted the briefcase onto her desk, and collapsed into a chair.
She pushed through the mountain of paperwork at a glacial pace. The problem was that she had to keep flipping back and forth between pages to compare the figures she needed. Often by the time she found the number she was searching for, she had forgotten why she needed it. It was like trying to understand a quilt by sorting through a stack of cloth scraps.
The thought of her old family quilts sparked a thought. Her mother and grandmother had never stitched a fancy blanket; Gnoll quilting was more about scavenging fabric than creating elaborate patterns. Feista’s one heirloom was a covering made from six neat rows of trouser fabric, leather armor, and hide scraps, all cut into perfect squares. As a pup, she had lain in her bed comparing one patch to another, and remembering the tales of her grandsire sneaking through dungeons to snag cloth and armor from the corpses of unwary heroes.
She needed something like that. A grid of squares for comparison…
It took a few minutes to locate a ruler and a charcoal nib, but soon enough Feista had drawn several neat rows and columns onto a large piece of parchment. She listed companies of interest down the first column, and then the relevant metrics and projections across the top. It took well past midnight to find and transcribe the figures into their corresponding squares, not to mention run her calculations, but soon she had all of her numbers spread out on a single sheet.
Feista grinned down at the grid, triumphant. It was like a map of her portfolio, each risk and opportunity as clear and grand as the view from the Pinnacle. From that lofty perch the Gnoll could survey projected revenues, expense issues, and holdings. With such a vantage she could easily draw inferences about any company’s projections based on performance, or exposure to the key stocks and funds, or potential tax burden on gross income.
Feista blinked. Gross income. But now that she considered it, hadn’t Blackheart Securities provided revenue? As did Syrinx & Sons? But the Vellum Court and Royal Foresters Fund had both listed their gross income. A pit formed in the Gnoll’s core, and her stomach dropped into it. She had mixed two values in the same column, and now all of her calculations were suspect.
All of the joy and exuberance leaked out of Feista in a prolonged groan. She’d have to recalculate all of her numbers. At this rate, she wondered if she’d get to bed at all. She dropped her head into her paws and tried not to weep.
A pink glimmer rippled across the thick pane of her window. Feista glanced up as a messenger sprite squeezed through an old pipe fitting and fluttered over to a pack of Wood Gnomes playing a game with peanut shells. A letter from Mr. Poldo had arrived.
The prospect of a note from the Scribkin cheered Feista a bit, and she made herself a mug of black tea as she waited for the Wood Gnomes to stamp out a message using tiny, metal letters and a pad of ink. Soon a pair of Gnomes deposited a transcription of Poldo’s message on her desk.
Mrs. Hrurk.
I am hopeful for your great happiness. Hairy Mountain and I journey far in woods, and not too much trouble. It is very easy to not have much trouble with Hairy Mountain at my side.
Have found broker for trades of the foundation for house of poverty? Now you must be busy with new job. Tell me who to send trades with, and I will see foundation’s treasure to great prosperity.
Please send me sprite with more news of big job. I have big pride for you!
With much sincerity,
Duine Poldo
Peas: If you are too much working hard, perhaps consider Gnomes of Appropriate Size? They are always most useful for basic tasks and taking less time.
Feista looked up from the paper. “Gnomes of appropriate size?” she said aloud.
White Rat emerged from behind an inkwell and chirruped in response. Behind her, many more Gnomes suddenly peeked out from the nooks and crannies of the study, all staring at the Gnoll.
“Is that what you call yourselves?” asked Feista. “That’s how you say Wood Gnome?”
White Rat shrugged and nodded with an affirmative squeak.
Feista smirked. “I suppose that makes the rest of us too big?”
The tiny woman gave a massive eye roll, to the effect that this was an obvious point. A few of the other Wood Gnomes muttered under their breath.
“All right, I was just asking,” Feista said, paws in the air. An idea was forming in her head. “Mr. Poldo suggested that I ask for your help with my work.”
As one, every Wood Gnome suddenly discovered a fascinating patch of wall or ceiling to stare at. White Rat chittered something that was both unintelligible and yet also clearly an excuse.
“I’d pay you, of course,” said the Gnoll.
The number of Gnomes on her desk tripled before she had completed her sentence. Round, eager faces smiled up at her from beneath a variety of rodents’ skulls.
“It’s just that it’s not really a simple task,” sighed Feista. “The calculations are fairly complex.” By way of example, she sketched out a sample equation above the column for estimated tax burden. “See, you need to use the number from the fourth column and the tax rate from the nineteenth.”
Rat Pelt clapped three times and barked something. The Wood Gnomes all but disappeared, and Feista’s parchment trembled under a swirling morass of blurring Gnomes. A few high-pitched squabbles rose above the din, but when the dust and paper settled a few moments later, the entire column had been erased and filled in with corrected figures.
Feista stared past the paper, her mind’s eye locked on the amazing possibilities behind the fresh pencil marks. “Wait, what if we apply the new numbers to the rest of the columns?” she asked, filling out new formulas above each column.
Rat Pelt squeaked and clapped again. A sort of organized chaos erupted on Feista’s desk, like a tornado setting the table for tea. More than one brawl broke out regarding math and the order that it should be done in, and the Gnoll thought she would have to intervene at one point. Yet a sheet that would have taken Feista over an hour to fill out was completed and double-checked in less than a minute.
The Gnomes stared up at Feista with wide smiles. She stared back with wide eyes. “This changes everything,” she breathed. “This is going to make my life so much easier.”
“You probably shouldn’t say things like that.” Duine Poldo leaned forward in his saddle, or Thane’s backpack, to speak into the Troll’s ear. The birches and maples of the Green Span drifted by them, sun-dappled and painted the colors of a flame by autumn’s touch.
“I’m sorry?” rumbled Thane.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” said Poldo hurriedly. “It’s just not wise to make such statements aloud.”
“I shouldn’t say our next lodgings will be better,” the Troll said flatly.
“Well, not that specifically,” conceded the Gnome. “It’s the nature of the statement, not the subject.”
“We slept in a bramble thicket,” said Thane. “It couldn’t get much worse.”
“There again,” said Poldo. “You’re setting expectations. Don’t you remember Nove’s principles?”
