It seems that everyone is going along well so far. Goditha has admitted that she misses Parminder, but apart from that is enjoying herself. She hasn’t been outside the valley since she was brought there. It is hard work with the cart, but also fun.
I notice that she has thanked Aziz often, both privately and publicly, for forcing his way onto the trip. As for the Hob, he spends a lot of his free time with Christopher. Part of the time he is learning to read, the rest of the time he is learning his new religion. The Khitan are all happy. They are riding in a land they regard as theirs.
The only one with problems is Bianca. Her horses are jealous of the attention she has to give to the pack animals and the two war horses are a trifle bored. They do the things horses do when they have been without exercise and penned up for a long time. As well, Sluggard doesn’t like being tied down to a fixed position.
Bianca has tied the other pack horses to him and that means that he can no longer just go where he wants. She seems to have solved it a bit by getting Ayesha to ride her horse, Sirocco, for her. The war-horse seems to tolerate her, “At least he gets a bit of a gallop this way,” she said.
The road to Dwarvenholme is very different. For most of the way it was an easy path to follow, but unlike the Mousehole road, as I am already thinking of the path past our valley, and which runs parallel along the foothills, this one has suffered a lot more over time with disuse. In some places, it is covered in scree from landslides, in others the path has been forced apart by the roots of giant trees.
There are many places where trees have fallen across it and it is hard to see the former road as more than random rocks. In some cases, the damage is so old that fallen trees (their width far greater than any of us riders are tall, even on our horses) could be easily cut open to allow a path through them.
For others, we have had to cut a path around them. I didn’t think about these things on our last trip. I wish that I had. We might have been better just bringing packhorses and even making two trips. It is too late to reverse that decision now.
Chapter XVII
Thord
3rd Duodecimus
It has taken me ten days, but I am at Kharlsbane. Now, how do I go about this? I have never talked to the Duke much. He doesn’t have time for mere shepherds, but I am not a shepherd now. I am an Ambassador. I know; I will act just as Astrid would.
Bjarni the Talker was, as usual, stationed at the gate. “So T’ord, had enough of t’world, ha’you? Been left behind by your Darkreach friends, ha’you?” he asked, with more than a touch of sarcasm. “Ready enow to come back among us ’n’ become respectable Dwarf?”
“Not in any way is t’at goin’ to happen,” said Thord. “I’ll be living somewhere else ’n’ hopeful I’ll total ’n’ complete fail at being respectable for all time. However, I need to see t’Smasher. I bring message for him from my Princess.”
“Your Princess, say you?” Bjarni said in a mocking tone. “What…ha’ you gone ’n’ found Dwarvenholme ’n’ given it King now, ha’ you?” This jest caused hilarity for the other two on guard but Thord just ignored them.
“You just tell me where t’Duke is,” replied Thord wearily, giving nothing away. “If he thinks t’at you need to know, I am sure he’ll tell you eventual.”
“Watch your lip, young T’ord. I don’t care where you’ve been. I am t’Guard commander here ’n’ you’ll treat me with respect.”
“Oh yes sir,” said Thord lightly and without much respect and touched his forehead “Lots of respect I ha’for you.” I am doing well at this. I have been around Astrid for far too long already. “Now, I’ll ask again, where is he?”
Bjarni looked at him, surprised. His face already says that this was not the same Thord the Shepherd who had left here only a few months ago. “I suppose t’at he be up at t’hall,” he reluctantly admitted.
Thord thanked him, more or less politely, and left. He found the Duke without much difficulty, but the Duke saw no reason to see him alone. “What can you ha’to say t’at everyone cannot hear? You are a shepherd who left his flock behind,” he said dismissively.
Thord sighed and shrugged. “All right, just remember t’at it is your choice.” He raised his voice so that everyone around could hear him. “I bring you greetin’s from my Princesses, t’rulers of Mousehole,” I really am hanging around Astrid too much…but the blank looks are fun.
He dug in his saddlebag that he had brought in with him, and pulled out a bag and drew a letter from his pouch. Still speaking to all around him he continued loudly: “Some of you may have the wits to remember t’Darkreach bard t’at I left here with.” Even the Duke nodded.
“She was a travellin’ in disguise. She is actual t’great-granddaughter of Hrothnog.” Again, he paused and looked around for the looks he was getting. Looks like a stunned cavy. “We joined up with some others ’n’ have wiped out nest of bandits in t’mountains. You may ha’heard about t’trade disruptions…” at least they are nodding to that… “Well, t’ bandits were responsible for t’em. We have taken over t’eir base, which is called Mousehole. T’is letter,” again he waved it without handing it over, “sends t’eir greetings ’n’ invites trade.”
“Trade with tiny fleapit of part-Kharls? Why would we want t’at?” The Duke looked around at the Dwarves gathered around as if he were making a joke. They seem to agree with him.
“Rubies ’n’ other gems, antimony ’n’ potions, for start. I’m now quite rich. Additional, we have ten mages in our tiny fleapit ’n’ most of t’people t’ere are humans anyway. I am t’ only Dwarf, but I want to change t’at as well. Oh…also… I almost forgot to mention,,,” he paused and looked around while he picked up the bag and started to withdraw what was in it. “We a found Dwarvenholme.”
He pulled a velvet bag from his pack and removed from it the Crown, which he had polished, and held it up where all could see it easily as beams of light caught it and bounced off its gems and around the room to dazzle the onlookers.
It is something every dwarf can describe in their sleep and they are having no problem with quickly realising that my story must be true, and I hold the proof in my hands. His last words were almost drowned out in the ensuing pandemonium. “Our Princesses want to know if’n t’Dwarves want to take it back, or if t’ey should keep it?”
Smasher is staring at the Crown. It is made of mithril and encrusted with gems and its description has been passed down in Dwarven legend. We may have forgotten where Dwarvenholme is, but every Dwarf present could have described the Crown in minute detail, from the memory of the stories they were told over and over as children.
Belatedly, he is moving and grabbing the letter lying on the table. He has given a quick glance at the wax seal, mouse rampant, standing upright on its hind legs with one front paw raised in the air above the other, torn it open and started reading the Dwarven script.
“Who is t’is Theodora? Who is t’is Rani? Where did t’ey come from? Why do t’ey make you t’eir Ambassador? How is it t’at you and these humans found what Dwarves ha’ sought for over hundred years since t’Burning start?”
“Actual,” said Thord, “t’at’s a part of why it was never found. Bring me chair ’n’ something to drink, as a befits honoured Ambassador, ’n’ I will tell you a story…’n’ if you wouldn’t mind … I t’ink t’at my parents’ld like to hear what I’ve to say as well.” Act with confidence. Astrid does. No doubts allowed.
The Duke spluttered a few times, but then nodded and waved, and Dwarves scurried off to comply. Thord would say no more until he had greeted his parents and asked of their health, and then seen them settled and everything was just as he wanted. By then, many more Dwarves had intruded and the room was getting crowded, but the Duke was so distracted he didn’t order his Hall cleared. When he was finally ready, Thord launched into his story without asking permission.
“So, you se
e t’at, due to t’time t’at had passed since t’Fall most of t’treasure has either rotted or corroded.” Thord started to wind up his story before his rapt audience. I don’t have to quieten them. If anyone tried to interrupt me the others would silence them quickly. My subject matter more than makes up for my inadequacy as a storyteller. Even the Duke is hushed.
“Even t’silver is gone into corrosion. Of course, t’ere could be more in t’areas we did not go into ’n’ I’m sure t’mines’re still there. My Princesses invite t’Dwarves to reclaim t’eir ancestral home, but lay out t’limits of our territory for you to respect. You’ll need to let t’other towns know of t’is ’n’ ’ll need to prepare.”
“In particular, ’n’ I speak from our experience t’ere you understand, you’ll need as much in t’way of light spells as you can make before you go. T’arrangement we had is still in place, but it only covers a very tiny fraction of t’amazing place t’at is t’real home of t’Dwarves. We don’t know all of it. We don’t know what lives t’ere. T’ere is so much we ha’still to learn about it.” He finished his story, sat back and took a large drink. Now the questions will start.
It was late that night before Thord was able to get himself free and go and talk more to his proud parents. Nice to see the pride on their faces in a child who had been a part of the greatest thing that has fallen on the Dwarves for centuries. From now, I will forever be called the Finder in the legends of the Dwarves. After greeting them, he let them know what he wanted, as quietly as he could. I will stay as a part of Mousehole and am now very wealthy.
With my new fame and my wealth, I will be a target for every Dwarven mother and ambitious unmarried female Dwarf, and even perhaps for some that are married. The best way to forestall problems is to get my mother to find me the right bride, and to make it known that this is what she is doing so that possible brides, and their parents, go to her and not to me.
This is, of course, something every Dwarven mother is always eager to do, and although my human companions seemed to rely on chance to find the right someone, I am old-fashioned enough in some respects to happily follow tradition on something as important to my future as this. Having given his parents instructions as to what he wanted, he now had set this in train.
Next day, the Duke sent messages out to the rest of the north-east; to Deafcor, Diamondroot and Northhole. Those messengers went by foot. Groups of Dwarves on fast sheep were sent to Copperlevy, in the Hills in the Northern Plains, and to the Dwarves of the South-West Mountains.
From his face, the Duke is very pleased to write out and send the one to Copperlevy. He signs it with a big flourish and stamps the largest seal he has down on it. It is Duke Thorfinn Deepdelver, who rules there and he has more Dwarves living under his rule there than all who are living in all of the rest of the Dwarven areas put together. Even I know that he has pretensions to rule over all of the Dwarves. Now, the rule of the Dwarves, whoever I decide holds it, would return to the real Mountains where it belonged.
Smasher is looking pleased…wait…in his eyes…he is just realising that I am the Finder. I have not claimed the Crown nor given a hint as to whom it will go to. I still hold the Crown, and there can be no King without the Finder recognising and crowning him. That will be my final role in the story and none can take it from me. That much is very clear from the legends and Dwarves follow their traditions whenever they can and, sometimes, they do it even when they shouldn’t.
Mind you, I am trying to avoid that question. I have no intention of claiming the title. I can see full well the work that comes to Rani and Theodora in our own tiny village. Rule the Dwarves? You would have to be kidding. Put two hands of Dwarves in a room with a question, and you will get three hands or more of different opinions. That is part of why I got the Princesses to write the letter naming me as their Ambassador to the Dwarves. Rani had just looked blank and not understood the reason behind my request, but Theodora just smiled at it and very quickly agreed. I presume that she explained it to her husband later.
During a pause, he looked around him at what was going on, a goblet of wine in his hand and a tray of meats, pickles and cheeses beside him. He sighed contentedly. I am already very wealthy, and I am going to be even more so. I still haven’t revealed my pouch full of mithril. Some of it will to go to my parents, the rest…well, I am sure that I could afford to buy Kharlsbane if I really want to, and I have some gems with me as small change and I have an income from the mine.
I am forever going to have a major part to play in Dwarven politics and life, as much as I want to play, if I choose to. I have entered the legends of the Dwarves. In them, the part of the others will gradually be forgotten until only the Dwarven remained. What is more, I am even going to get a wife of high rank. Life is good, very good, and there may yet be even more adventures to come.
Chapter XVIII
Astrid
5th Duodecimus
I have grown used to Parminder waking in the night with bad dreams and having to hold the young and tiny pregnant girl tight until she falls asleep. I have even gotten used to Verily’s sharp elbows, although I am starting to regret choosing to take the middle position in a bed full of pregnant women. However, this is different.
Parminder had woken startled and was crying. On top of her dreams she was concerned that, now she was pregnant she would lose her looks and Goditha would no longer love her. Nothing seems to reassure her.
Careful of waking Verily, Astrid stroked Parminder’s hair and reassured her that she was still beautiful and would stay beautiful to Goditha. Parminder had responded by kissing her. It now seems that she wants to be reassured of her beauty more physically. Oh well, it looks like I am about to find out how the sailor’s wives console each other in Wolfneck. She tried to be quiet.
In the morning Verily said. “I thought that the others were joking, but you really do purr,” and smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. She certainly needed it, and I think you did as well from what you have been saying in your sleep. I will let you know if I need consolation as well, but you could not be Aziz.”
I am not sure how to respond to that. “And neither of you could be Basil, but you are right. I think I needed something. My dreams may not be as bad as Parminder’s are, but they have not been good ones. I am anxious about my Basil.”
Chapter XIX
Rani
34th Undecim
We have arrived at Dwarvenholme. The Khitan have already started trying to clear a new track to the path up to the flat area outside the gate while the cart is brought around the rock fall that covers the bottom of the old path. It is hard work and I am counting days in my head and hoping that the Dwarves take their time to gather.
According to Father Christopher it is Saint Vitalis’s Day, and we are already a week behind schedule. I am starting to regret sending Thord off so quickly. Perhaps it would have been better to have done that only after we returned from this trip. It is not as if there were any rush in revealing what has remained hidden for centuries.
There is plenty of room inside. We can take the cart and the horses to the stairs and use the horses to bring things down to the cart before finally filling their packs to return. Most of the bats are still here, clustered high in the roof of the concourse, squeaking and adding to the noisome mess below them, but it seems that there were fewer of the flying beasts now. Perhaps the light is upsetting them, and they are moving their roosts from here further in to the vastness that is the old home of the Dwarves. Where they will go when those Dwarves return to it, I do not know.
They moved as cautiously as they could, all of them on foot with the extra riding horses tied into a string. Their caution was rewarded as they moved into the stairwell. A patch of darkness moving from the stairwell. She blasted it with a bolt from a wand, as it wafted towards the horses. “It looks like we did not remove all of the Moonshadows. Everyone has to keep checking
the person near them. I hope Thord remembers to warn the Dwarves about them.”
Leaving Anahita, Goditha and Stefan with the cart, the rest started to ascend the stairs. Some wands were left to deal with any more Moonshadows that appeared. Hopefully Goditha’s work towards becoming a full-fledged mage would let her spot any that came towards them.
The skeletons of the Dwarves still remained, almost filling the level where they had fought. I am glad that I brought a broom along. It is more respectful, particularly since the living Dwarves would be arriving soon, to clear a path through them rather than just crush them underfoot.
They kept going and reached the level of the throne room. The stairs actually kept going after this point but were much narrower. It might be a good idea to see what lies, at least a little way, up them. I will send Christopher, Theodora and Hulagu, all with nails still in their shields to light the way, to find out. The rest can go on towards the throne area. “Only go a few turns past where the light from here fades and keep an eye on each other, and call loudly if you need help,” she said.
Hulagu
They went up a further three turns around of the stairs. There is a small misshapen lump of stone on the balustrade ahead of them. It is very out of place with the precision of Dwarven carving. I think it moved. “What is that?” he asked. The others stopped and looked as well.
“A baby,” cried Christopher and sprang forward, moving slower as he approached it. He began to sing, or at any rate chant, in Latin. He sings that during his worship. Reaching forward he picked up the small lump and held it on his hand…like a very heavy hawk. It stirs sleepily, but allows itself to be handled. Proudly, Christopher returned to them, holding his burden close to him.
Clearing the Web Page 14