“Maybe a day will come when the young have no need to steal, Cracker,” smiled the elf. “When that day does arrive, do not be reticent to leave your old life behind.”
“I should live so long,” laughed the head thief.
Morro rose and Cracker picked up on the need to leave. He rose and exited the room. Kalina immediately curled up on the bed and fell asleep. Morro rested on the floor. When he woke hours later, Kalina was already up. She was sitting at the window watching the sun slip lower in the sky.
“We should go downstairs and have the evening meal early,” Kalina said when she saw Morro was awake. “We haven’t eaten all day.”
Morro nodded wordlessly, and they went down to the common room for a meal. They finished eating before sunset and headed down the street towards the carpentry shop. They slid into an alley across the street from the shop and waited. A little after sunset the carpenter exited his shop. He carefully looked up and down the street before locking the door and heading off for a meal.
“Let’s go,” Morro urged conspiratorially.
Kalina followed the elven thief across the street and into another alley. They moved along the alley and emerged at the rear of the shop. Morro deftly opened a window after defeating the locking mechanism. He slid into the dark interior of the shop and then helped Kalina through the window.
“What are we looking for?” Morro whispered.
“Clint found records from this shop for thirty pairs of doors,” Kalina explained. “I want to see what records exist here for those doors. You check the desk. I will go upstairs and check his lodgings.”
“I will go upstairs,” offered Morro. “He keeps his home locked even during the day.”
Kalina wanted to ask Morro how he knew such details, but the thief was already moving towards the stairs. She moved to the desk and began opening the drawers. Kalina found a thick book in the first drawer she opened. She opened the book and peered at the pages, but there was not enough light to read the scrawled words. She retrieved a ring from her pouch and mumbled a few words over it, and the ring began to glow. She slipped the ring onto one of her fingers and examined the book. The book was a work journal, and she found the entry for the doors rather easily. It took up most of a page. The details regarding the doors were lengthy and very precise. Every measurement was detailed with tight tolerances. Even the type of wood to be used was specified, and Kalina was intrigued to discover that no mahogany was to be used. She thought about that for a moment. She wondered why the Federation had chosen a carpenter way out in Olansk to build the doors, yet prohibited the use of mahogany that the area was so famous for.
Kalina shook her head and continued reading. There were large notes scribbled to the right of the specifications, and Kalina squinted to read the scrawl. The notes detailed the delivery of the finished doors, but there was actually no delivery at all. The doors were to be picked up by a priest and taken away to be blessed. After they were returned, an army unit was to pick them up at the shop. At the end of the entry were three sets of numbers. Kalina frowned at the numbers. She memorized the strange numbers and closed the book. She returned it to the drawer and continued searching the desk. One large drawer was filled with folders. Each folder had a number on it. She moved through the folders quickly and pulled the first one she found that matched one of the three numbers. She opened the folder and found a piece of paper authorizing the building of the doors. It was signed by Grand General Kyrga. She closed the folder and searched for the next number. That folder contained a piece of paper accepting receipt of the doors. It also had another piece of paper attesting to a blessing of the doors. Both papers were signed by K’san. The third folder held another receipt for the doors. It was signed by General Tauman, Commander of the First Corps. Kalina replaced the folders and closed the drawer. She looked up to see Morro watching her.
“A ring like that must be a useful tool,” Morro said softly. “Did you find anything?”
“I did,” answered Kalina, “but what I found raises even more questions. I will need to speak to the carpenter.”
“If we delay much longer,” warned the elf, “he will arrive and make your wish come true. It is time for us to leave.”
Kalina nodded and rose. She followed Morro to the window, and they exited the building. Morro closed the window and reengaged the lock. They used the alley to regain the street. One of Cracker’s people noticed them and sent a message to his fellow cohorts that the diversion could end. Moments later the carpenter trudged down the street and entered his shop. He slammed the door on his way into the building.
“He might not be in the mood to talk,” Morro said in the alley across from the shop.
“He does seem angry,” frowned Kalina. “I wonder what Cracker did to delay him.”
“I imagine that they taunted him and kept him from returning here.”
“Perhaps I can soothe his feelings and get some information at the same time.”
Morro merely shrugged as Kalina stepped out of the alley and crossed the street. She stepped into the shop and quietly closed the door.
“The shop is closed,” groused Orkare.
“I won’t take up much of your time,” Kalina said cheerily. “I merely want to ask a question of someone who knows a great deal about woodworking. I heard that you were the most knowledgeable carpenter in all of Olansk.”
The shopkeeper turned to gaze at the intruder. Kalina was still a young-looking woman, and Orkare was struck by her beauty. “My father was famed for his accurate work. I like to hope that I have upheld the family tradition. What is the question?”
“I recently came through Zinbar,” Kalina said with a warm smile. “There is an artisan there who makes beautiful figurines and I was tempted to buy one for a favorite aunt of mine, but this aunt refuses to have anything in her home that is not blessed by a priest. When I mentioned this to the artisan, he scoffed at me. He said that priests would never bless anything made of mahogany. Needless to say, I refused to buy the figurine, but now I am sad that I did not purchase it. It was beautiful after all. As you are a master in the arts of wood, I was wondering if you can explain the blessing of wood and how the priests do it.”
The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Kalina. He remained silent for a moment and then shook his head. “I really don’t know much about the blessings of priests,” he confessed. “The only time I had anything blessed by a priest, he carried the goods away and then brought them back after he was done.”
“Was the piece mahogany?” asked Kalina.
“No,” answered Orkare. “Strangely enough, the job specified no mahogany. I thought that strange at the time, but maybe there is some truth in what the artisan is telling you.”
“I would really like to know for sure,” frowned Kalina. “Perhaps you could direct me to the priest that blessed your work?”
“I would gladly do so,” frowned the shopkeeper, “but I do not know him. He is not from Olansk.”
“Where is he from?” asked Kalina.
“I do not know. He arrived one day and asked for the doors. He did not even have a wagon to carry them. I had to lend him my wagon. He went east on the Aranak Road, but I know of no temple out that way. I wish I could help you more.”
“You have been most kind,” smiled Kalina. “I think I might travel back up to Zinbar and talk to the artisan once more. Good evening to you, Orkare.”
The shopkeeper smiled and nodded to Kalina before she left the shop. Kalina returned to the Aranak Dunes and Morro showed a moment later.
“What did you learn?”
“I think Orkare was chosen for two reasons,” stated Kalina. “The shop was known for its accuracy, and the specifications were very precise. The other reason was its location close to the Forest of Death.”
“The Forest of Death?” Morro echoed with confusion. “Why there?”
“That is where the spells were put on the doors,” answered Kalina. “I was hoping that this trip to Olansk might r
eveal the magic used to make the Doors, but I see now that this is just a waste of our time. Orkare is nothing more than a carpenter.”
“What now?” asked the elven thief. “Do we return to Despair?”
“Not me,” answered Kalina. “I would like to join with Garth at Tarashin. You will have to return to Despair alone.”
“Can I accompany you?” asked Morro. “I would like to see the land of the dwarves.”
Kalina stared at Morro for a moment before answering. “The elves and the dwarves have not been friendly in this land. Do you think that is wise?”
“We both must put the past behind us,” replied the elf. “As I understand it, the dwarves will be helping in the war against the Federation. Should we not try to get over our differences before the fighting starts?”
“That would be advisable,” frowned Kalina, “but are you the one to take that giant step?”
“I am not royalty,” conceded Morro, “but I am Dielderal. I have learned much from you Alceans about the true past of my people. I feel that I can engage the dwarves with an open mind. In fact, I believe that I can regain their trust, much as I have done with the unicorns.”
“You have done that with the unicorns,” smiled Kalina. “They have spoken to me about the Dielderal, and how they believe that your people have changed. You deserve a great deal of credit for that. Very well, let us both proceed to Tarashin then.”
* * * *
The unicorns landed on a narrow ledge and the pair dismounted. The unicorns took to the air again, leaving Kalina and Morro on the ledge near the waterfall. The two dwarven guards immediately approached and blocked the path.
“That is an elf, Lady Kalina,” one of the guards scowled.
“I am Morro, a Dielderal elf,” smiled the thief. “I have come to ask forgiveness for our past differences.”
The dwarf narrowed his gaze and stared at the elf suspiciously.
“I would never bring an enemy into Tarashin,” Kalina declared. “King Drakarik has already met with Prince Saratoma of the Dielderal. Are you now barring an ally from entry to Tarashin?”
The dwarf stepped forward and spoke. “We are not refusing entry. We are just surprised to see an elf arrive unbidden. One of us must gain permission for you to enter. Please wait here.”
Kalina nodded, and the dwarf disappeared into the cave. Everyone waited in an awkward silence until the runner reappeared.
“King Drakarik is pleased to accept a visitor from Elfwoods. I will have some men guide you to him.”
Morro smiled and nodded although he knew that his guides would be numerous and well armed. The dwarves did not disappoint him. A column of dwarven warriors surrounded the visitors and led them through the tunnels of Tarashin. Morro marveled at the highways burrowed through the mountain. He was amazed at the numerous intersections and the side tunnels that often led up or down or just sideways. Before the novelty had begun to wear off, they were deposited in a large round chamber. Garth Shado was present along with a half dozen dwarves. One of the dwarves wore a simple golden circlet upon his head. Morro instinctively bowed low to him.
“The elf has manners,” smiled King Drakarik. “Are you royal, Morro?”
“I am not,” grinned the elf. “I am but a simple thief.”
The dwarves in the room immediately tensed, but Garth started laughing. King Drakarik glanced at Garth, and he, too, began to laugh.
“A simple thief with a mind of wit,” chuckled the king. “Leave what belongs to the dwarves in Tarashin, Morro, and you will be welcome here.”
“Thank you, King Drakarik. I do not steal from friends, and I truly hope that your people and mine will become fast friends. Thank you for the welcome.”
Kalina glanced at the map on the table in the center of the room. Her eyes rose to Garth as she asked, “Is there any chance of reaching Camp Destiny?”
“More than I hoped,” Garth replied. “I was just going over the map with King Drakarik and his advisors. The dwarves have mapped every cave south of the Ramaldi Pass. They know of the hidden valley, and they can tunnel into it.”
“Within a week if I put everyone on it,” grinned the dwarven king. “Our current tunnels are extensive to the north. There is a bounty of gold and copper up there.”
“Can you do it without alerting the mages in the valley?” asked Kalina.
“Now that is a different story,” frowned the king. “Were it just human soldiers, I could tunnel right under them, but I do not know the capabilities of the mages. I understand that they have alarms on the peaks of the mountains. Is it possible that they have other alarms that we might trigger?”
“There is no way for us to know that,” answered Kalina, “but there is a limit to their power. If they spend their power on hundreds of wards, the mages will be of little use for anything else.”
“Perhaps you could work on the tunnel and stop just short of breaking through,” suggested Garth. “Surely their wards would be on the surface walls of the canyon, wouldn’t they?”
“That would be easiest.” Kalina nodded. “I think it would be safe to assume that.”
“Then let us plan to do that,” said Garth. “I have not yet developed a plan for what to do once we have an entrance into the valley. That will require a great deal of thought.”
“I will put my men on it right away,” promised King Drakarik. “Once we get close to the valley, I will return my men to working on the tunnel into Bloodwood.”
“Bloodwood?” questioned Morro.
“Aye.” The king nodded. “You didn’t expect the dwarves to come swarming down the mountainside, did ya, elf? When it comes time to attack the Federation, we will slip our armies into the Bloodwood unseen by the humans.”
“I guess I haven’t given it much thought,” admitted the thief.
“This has been a good meeting, King Drakarik,” stated Garth. “I think we will get out of your way and let you do what the dwarves do best.”
“Drinking?” chuckled the king. “Or singing?”
“I guess there are many things that dwarves excel at,” laughed Garth as he lifted his pack off the floor and pulled it onto his back.
As Garth and Kalina bowed to the king and prepared to depart, Morro remained upright. The king looked at him curiously.
“Might I ask to stay in Tarashin for a while?” asked the thief. “I promise not to get in the way, but I think my people should learn more about the ways of the dwarves. I think it will help us to better understand one another.”
Garth and the king exchanged puzzled glances. Garth shrugged, and the king eventually nodded.
“I would be pleased with your company for a while,” stated the king as he waved one of the other dwarves forward. “This is Karicon, Morro. He will be your guide during your stay. He will explain the rules of Tarashin, which you will be expected to obey. He will also answer whatever questions you might have.”
“Thank you,” Morro said with a low bow to the king. “I will also answer any questions about the Dielderal that any of the dwarves might have.”
Kalina raised an eyebrow as she watched Morro, but she didn’t say anything. As Garth personally thanked each of the king’s advisors for their help, Morro moved closer to Kalina.
“I would like a fairy of my own,” he whispered to Kalina. “Would that be possible?”
“What are you up to, Morro?” Kalina asked with suspicion.
“I would like to be kept informed with what is happening in Elfwoods and Despair,” answered the elven thief. “I also might learn a few things from the fairies. Didn’t you once say that we all had to work together? How better to do that than to immerse yourself in foreign cultures?”
Kalina laughed softly. “You are up to something, thief, but I trust you with my life. I will have a fairy sent to you. With no ships heading to Alcea, we have plenty of them available.”
* * * *
Grand General Kyrga donned an old, shabby, gray, hooded cloak and slipped out of the Imperial Pa
lace. He moved stealthily across the manicured grounds of the palace, carefully avoiding the patrols. When he came upon a tall hedge, he followed it for a while and then suddenly stepped into it. He slid open a secret door that was concealed by hedges on both sides of the perimeter wall. Once through the door, he slid it closed and peered through the hedges at the city street. After making sure that he would not be observed, Kyrga stepped out of the hedge and hurried towards the Temple of Balmak. As he approached the rear of the temple, he slid a black and gold bracelet onto his wrist. He held his arm so the torchlight at the rear of the temple would illuminate the bracelet. The guards noticed it and knocked on the door. The door opened just as Kyrga reached it, and he stepped inside, unaware of the fairy that had followed him all the way from his quarters in the Imperial Palace. The door closed quickly, leaving the fairy outside. Kyrga stepped past the black-cloak who had opened the door and headed for K’san’s office. K’san was waiting for him.
“How do you always know when I am coming?” asked Kyrga.
“What brings you out this night?” K’san asked, ignoring the general’s question.
“It might be time to eliminate King Elengal,” stated Kyrga. “He had a private meeting with Emperor Jaar about your recent trip to Elfwoods.”
“So he lives,” frowned the tall, black priest. “That is most unfortunate.”
“Most unfortunate,” agreed Kyrga. “I suspect that Elengal knows of my involvement. If I know the emperor, he will appoint someone to investigate this matter, and it will be hidden from me.”
“Then you do indeed have a problem,” K’san responded, “but killing Elengal will no longer solve it. He has already done the worst he can do. How can my trip be traced to you?”
“I ordered Captain Kent to lead the mission,” explained the Grand General. “If they can find out who led the mission, it will lead back to me.”
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