Lord of the North

by Michael Tinker Pearce

  The carl had led them through a long, broad hall with a polished granite floor and a high, buttressed ceiling. The stonework was of excellent quality and there were rich tapestries on the walls. Artwork was displayed in carefully placed alcoves, but Engvyr had paid it no regard, his attention being absorbed by greater concerns.

  At length they’d came to a pair of stout wooden doors bound in black iron and richly carved with scenes of industry and trade. Their escort spoke to a herald, who entered the chamber. A moment later the doors had swung wide before them, and after a last shared glance with Sergeant Hemnir, Engvyr entered the council chamber.

  Engvyr had expected to be nervous and tense. Instead he felt the strange calm that came over him before battle; the die was cast and now events would proceed as they would. He bowed to the council Chairman and spoke. “I bring you greetings from the Kingdom of Dvaergatil Baeg on behalf of His Majesty, King Dvalin Dvalinson.”

  The Chairman bowed to Engvyr in turn. “On behalf of the Ruling council and the City of Taerneal, I bid you welcome, Your Excellency.” The Chairman went on to introduce the members of the council, all prosperous-appearing middle-aged men and women seated at the long table. Engvyr did not let his eyes linger as the council members were introduced. With the feeling of stepping from a precipice, he took a deep breath and addressed the assembled leaders

  “My Lord Chairman, Lords and ladies of the council, I bring you greetings from my people. As much it pains me, I am afraid that I am here to ask redress of a grievance on behalf of my people.”

  He paused, noting the indrawn breathes and glances exchanged between the members of the council. They know why I am here, right enough, he thought, even those not directly involved. Still, I doubt they are prepared for this.

  “You know that we are at war with a nation of goblins called the baasgarta. Chief among their offenses against my people is that they have taken, and still hold, dwarves in thrall. Even as we speak, our armies are scouring their land and freeing our people wherever we find them. It is not our desire to exterminate the baasgarta, but it is our intent to destroy their nation and their culture of slavery, utterly and completely. Make no mistake, we will succeed in this goal. This is the price that we will exact of anyone that holds our people in chains or trades in them as one would animals or commodities.”

  He swept the room with his eyes, meeting the gazes of the council one by one before he continued. “I am, by background and upbringing, a simple soldier and a plain-speaking dwarf. I am unskilled in flowery language and the niceties of diplomacy. Rather than embarrass us all in poor attempts at the same, I will come straight to the heart of the matter—your city is in peril. Dire peril.”

  This caused a stir, and more exchanges among the afmaeltinn, but none of them betrayed surprise. Well, he’d hoped for a glimmer of innocence disbelief, but he hadn’t really expected it. “Even as we speak there are those among you trafficking in our people as if they were common trade goods. They act in collaboration with traders from the southern nations, and have thus far sent hundreds or even thousands of our people into slavery in the south.”

  He swept them with his eyes again and spoke coldly and clearly. “This will stop. Because you do not stop it, my nation will declare war on your city and we will stop it ourselves. Do not make the mistake of thinking that I am bluffing. Do not think, either, that the threat is not imminent. The Battalion of troops outside your gates is but the advance force. Shortly, your own sources will be able to confirm that the remainder of their regiment will arrive within the week. You have until then to resolve this matter. After that, we will resolve it for you, and that resolution will not be to your liking—even for those of you who survive it.”

  This brought a reaction. The gallery burst into an uproar, and several of the council shouted angry exclamations. The Chairman banged his gavel to restore order and if the room was not afterwards quiet, Engvyr at least did not have to shout over their protests.

  “In the interim,” he continued, “if any ship leaves your harbor with our people aboard, we will consider it an act of war. If these unfortunate dwarves are killed, we will hold your city responsible. If any of our people living among you as citizens are harmed, we will bring you to account. You will free all those of my people currently held in bondage within your city and turn them over to our care. You will bring to justice any and all persons involved in this abomination—and when I say ‘any and all’ involved I mean exactly that. I don’t care if they are wealthy or influential, if they hold high office, or even if they are members of this council. You will stop the slave trade. You will bring the perpetrators to justice, no matter who or what they are. You will do this before our forces arrive, or the day following, you will find yourselves at war. And if you doubt the outcome of such a conflict, I invite you to consult your histories.”

  There was dead silence in the council chamber as he paused. He sighed, and continued in a milder tone. “We have no desire for war. But on this, we are inflexible. The city of Taerneal and my kingdom have always been, if not friends, then at least amicable and successful partners in commerce, to the enrichment of both. While it pains me to come before you with such an ultimatum, we have suffered an offense that cannot be overlooked—one that strikes to the very soul of my people. I regret the necessity of dictating terms, but do not think that I will hesitate for so much as an instant on account of that regret. I have said what needs to be said; all that remains is to act as we will and must. Lord and Lady grant that you will, by your actions, avert the tragedy that threatens your city and its people.”

  He bowed again to the Chairman. Then he and his escort turned on their heels and marched from the room. As the door swung shut behind them, he heard the room once more erupt in turmoil.

  “Well,” said Sergeant Hemnir without looking back, “That’s given them a mouthful to chew.”

  Engvyr shot him a wry glance. “They may gag on the taste flavor, but let us hope they can swallow it else they find it chokes them .”

  He gestured to their escort to lead the way out.

  *

  Pandemonium ensued in the wake of the dwarven envoy’s departure. Shouts, indignant protests and insults filled the air. Albrekk sat placidly amidst it all, observing the reactions of his fellow council members, noting which among them mirrored his calm and which protested most violently. After a few minutes, the Chairman was able to restore order and a semblance of calm returned to the room.

  “M’Lord Chairman,” said councilman Dvorac, the representative of the Market District. “This is an outrage! I move that we lodge a protest with King Dvalin immediately—and in the strongest possible language. This is an unconscionable violation of our sovereignty!”

  A babble of agreement rose in support, but Albrekk gestured to the Chairman and was recognized. He stood.

  “Dvorac, try not to show yourself as great an idiot as we know you to be. First, by the time any such protest could reach Ironhame, we will be long past the point at which the King’s intervention would be useful. Perhaps we could send with it a plea for help for the refugees from the ruins of our city? For that is what will remain by the time His Majesty can respond.”

  Dvorac sputtered, and other voices rose in protest. He had not yet yielded the floor however, and spoke over them.

  “Further, if we were to appeal to the dwarven Crown, legally we should do so through the office of the very dwarf that just departed and left you all in such a panic. For those of you cleaning your ears when it was announced, he is the Voice of the King. If you think that phrase a mere legal nicety, I echo the envoy’s suggestion that you consult your histories. Dvaergatil Baeg is not a democracy; it is a monarchy. The king holds near absolute power within their realm, and if he grants his voice to another then he has absolute confidence in that person. Even could we appeal to King Dvalin directly, and in time, there is no chance whatsoever that he would contradict the Lord Warden. Accept the reality of our situation, my fellow council Members. T
he facts on the ground are what they are, and they care not a whit for your opinion on the matter.”

  “But how dare they? Who do they think they are?” someone yelled from the other side of the room.

  Albrekk didn’t see who had shouted, but he responded all the same. “How dare they? They dare because they can. Who they are, is the mightiest military power in all the known world. They may currently be preoccupied with these baasgarta, but sooner or later that will pass, and they will be at liberty to deal with us. Yes, we can stand a siege against their regiment, but when another regiment arrives, and then another? I can guarantee you this, Ladies and Gentlemen: if you choose the path of war, by next autumn the only living souls within these walls will be scavengers and looters, picking clean the bones of our once-great city.”

  The representative of the North Harbor district rose in her seat, face red. “But surely you don’t suggest that we cave in to their demands? Shall we meekly bow and do as they instruct like the most menial of servants?”

  Albrekk regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “Need I remind you all that slavery, and the transport of slaves, is a violation of our own laws as well? What have the dwarves demanded except that we abide by our own edicts? And should we not follow the dictates of our own conscience and morality, as expressed by our city’s laws? Rather than be disturbed or offended that the dwarves force such terms upon us, we should be ashamed that they have reason to!”

  He regarded the assembly with disfavor before continuing. “Yes, we should accede to their demands. We should root out this heinous trade, destroy it, and punish those responsible as harshly as the law permits. We should cut this cancer from the body of our city, and we should do so not because it is what the dwarves require, but rather because of who we are—and what we are not.”

  He straightened, placed his hands on his hips, and looked over the assembly. “I note that for all the voices raised in protest against the dwarven ultimatum, not one has been raised in denial of their allegations. Many or most of you have been aware of this blot upon our city’s character. Some have turned a blind eye, some have pursued inquiries into the matter. I myself have launched an investigation into this trade, and can assure you beyond doubt that we are guilty of harboring this obscene criminal endeavor. My agents have been circumspect for reasons that you may well guess, but their work has been productive. It cannot have escaped you, my fellow council Members, that activity on this scale could not have occurred without the knowledge and cooperation of one or more members of this very council.”

  Protests erupted again, and the Chairman had to bang his gavel violently for several minutes before things settled down enough to continue. Albrekk allowed himself a small smile. “You can vent your righteous indignation against the affront to our city’s collective dignity, shout denials, cast aspersions and blame all you like, but at the end of the day, Ladies and Gentlemen, you have two choices—act to end this blot on our city, this abomination, or prepare yourselves for a war you cannot win. Make your choice quickly; we have little time to act before the decision is taken from our hands.”

  *

  Later that day, as Engvyr was reviewing his report for Ironhame, Sergeant Hemnir announced a visitor. “Looks like that Albrekk fellow, from the Ruling council. Shall I send him in?”

  “By all means. And send for another pot of coffee.” He put the report aside and stood to greet his visitor. The afmaeltinn man loomed large in the command tent, ducking his head to come through the doorway. He carried a long sword with a two-handed grip, the sword-belt wrapped around the scabbard. He offered it to Sergeant Hemnir as he entered.

  “That’s not necessary,” Engvyr said. “We’re not yet enemies, and I’d deny no honest man the means to defend himself.”

  Albrekk eyed him for a moment, then said, “Actually I was thinking of my own convenience; the bloody thing is a nuisance indoors.”

  Engvyr grinned at the tall man. “Fair to say. Sergeant, if you would be so kind?”

  Sergeant Hemnir nodded, took the sword, and placed it on the rack next to Engvyr’s rifle. He brought over a stool, almost comically short for the councilman, who gave it a mournful look before easing himself down with a grimace. A soldier arrived with the coffee and they all took a moment to accept a mug before continuing.

  “So then, to what do we owe the honor of your presence?” Engvyr asked.

  “You can guess the subject well enough,” the councilman responded. “I thought it best we confer privately. Is Kevrenn with you?”

  Engvyr smiled. “He is well, and free to come and go as he pleases, but apparently it pleases him to bide a while among us. I gather the circumstances of his departure were, shall we say, less than ideal.”

  “You might say that having the watch earnestly wishing to question you regarding the death of a half dozen men, including the scion of a noble house, constitutes a less than ideal circumstance,” allowed the councilman. “He has had no opportunity to report to me since he departed, so you have me at a disadvantage there.”

  “Then let’s take care of that first,” said Engvyr.

  He shared all that the dwarves had gleaned from their own investigations, as well as the conclusions they’d drawn after hearing the results of Kevrenn’s inquiries. The afmaeltinn received the information impassively, his features betraying neither surprise nor doubt. When Engvyr had finished the account, he asked his visitor, “And what of the council? How have they received our embassy?”

  Albrekk snorted. “That lot? Those ninnies were still arguing when I finally left them at suppertime. Give them a trade agreement to hammer out, or a resolution to repair the streets, and they are more than up to the task. In a crisis though? It’s like herding cats. Most of them are quite capable of earnestly believing three mutually contradictory ideas at any given time, and arguing passionately for each of them. Given the fact that the Lord and Lady alone know who among them, or how many, are involved personally, I don’t know if they’ll manage to agree what to have for lunch before your forces arrive.”

  Engvyr frowned. “That presents a problem, then, doesn’t it? I don’t much fancy the notion of declaring war on your city, but my wishes in the matter aren’t worth spit. The King’s policy is clear. As I’m sure you’re aware. We have no tolerance for slavers or those that shelter them. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what a disaster a siege will be for the city. Hunger, suffering, disease—and it won’t be the folk responsible that suffer the worst, either. I really don’t relish the thought.”

  Albrekk remained silent a few moments, his face bearing a thoughtful expression. Then he spoke. “If the council is intractable, then perhaps they are not the entity to whom you should be appealing—especially given that some among them are in league with these criminals. It is said—among our people, at least—that it is easier to ask for forgiveness than to beg for permission.”

  Engvyr rubbed at his chin. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  The councilman steepled fingers before his mouth and spoke around them. “Our city-state does not operate as a kingdom does; we have no one person with ultimate authority. Each district of the city is represented on the Ruling council. Some of these representatives are hereditary among the Nobility. Other districts elect their council members. A few members are appointed ‘At Large,’ representing city-wide interests such as the Mages, the City Engineers, and the Harbor Master. The Ruling council is in charge of relations with other nation-states, as well as operations of, and overall policy for the city.”

  He paused to be sure Engvyr was following, then continued. “In addition to the Ruling council there are two other bodies that govern matters within the city. First is the Guild council, made up of representatives of the city’s different guilds. They mediate disputes among the Guilds and elect representatives to the Ruling council.” Here he leaned forward, resting elbows on knees, and something akin to a smile flickered across his face.

  “The third group is the watch,” he continued. “
They are responsible for keeping the peace, enforcing the law, and ultimately, defending the city against foreign aggression. It is important to note three critical things about our current situation. First, defending against a siege—or preventing one—is the responsibility of the watch. Second, in the event of a military emergency, the watch may act without consulting the Ruling council. And finally, third, the watch is also responsible for enforcing the law within the city, and in matters of the law, they have the authority to deal directly with liaisons of other nation-states.”

  Engvyr began to smile. “And what, exactly, constitutes a ‘liaison’?”

  Albrekk returned his smile, a bit wolfishly. “That is subject to the interpretation of the Commander of the Watch. That person has broad powers in such a situation. But as ‘Voice of the King’, you, sir, directly represent the highest legal authority in your nation. So I’d be hard pressed to imagine a more appropriate liaison of the Dwarves.”

  Engvyr regarded the councilman for a moment, then nodded. Clearing a space on his desk, he selected a blank piece of paper, picked up his quill, and examined it critically. He dipped it in the inkwell and began to write. As he did, he said casually, “Perhaps the honorable councilman would be so good as to convey a proposal to the appropriate person or persons within your watch regarding a joint operation? I would be much obliged.”

  Albrekk smilemight have been one of triumph, or perhaps merely of relief. “My Lord Warder, it would be my pleasure.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “When presented with a wall, you have a number of options. To go through it or to go over it are among them. But if the option exists to go around, you might just save yourself a great deal of trouble. “

  From the Diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson

  The next morning Albrekk sat in council once again. He wondered how he could hide his nervous anticipation and be bored senseless at the same time. He only half listened as the council members droned on about this and that, attempting to sound like they were doing something useful without ever saying anything of substance. He found himself idly fingering the hilt of his dagger and forced himself to stop.