“Good day, Guildmaster,” she said as she approached the desk.
Darlheim looked away from his report and smiled at her.
“So formal, Mel?” he asked with a smile. “I've known you all your life. Surely we can dispense with titles by now, can we not?”
She sat down at his gesture and watched him closely.
“When one is summoned by the master of the guild, old habits tend to kick in,” she told him.
Darlheim sighed and put down the parchment.
“Yes, I suppose that's true. It's a shame, though. I have no family of my own, except for the guild, and even here everyone tiptoes around me. It weighs on a person sometimes.”
Mel felt a surge of compassion for the old dwarf, but it was tempered by her innate distrust of anyone with power. Family ties or not, Darlheim's first and only true loyalty was to the rogues guild, not to her.
“So what can I do for you?” Mel asked him.
The guildmaster pulled his robe tighter around him and caught her eyes.
“I spoke with your father earlier, as I'm sure you know,” he said.
Mel nodded silently.
“Good. I told him that, when we received word of the prince, he should take you with him. Did he mention that?”
“He did.”
“Excellent. But until you both leave, you and Hallic are the two members of the guild that I trust the most. And so I want to pass along some information that I've just received that may or may not relate to the traitorous offspring of the king.”
Mel's stomach clenched. Could the guildmaster be referring to the letter he had received from Cindercore?
It turned out that he was.
“I got a letter from Annia, the leader of the Cindercore guild,” Darlheim continued.
He glanced at the pile of notes and scrolls on his desk and waved at it weakly.
“It's in there somewhere. Anyway, she's concerned about rumors that are swirling around that the guild has been penetrated by spies. Spies working for Corbin himself.”
“For the prince?” Mel asked in surprise.
“Yes. I don't suppose that your old student mentioned that when he spoke to you earlier, did he?”
Mel's blood went cold as the guildmaster caught her eye. He seemed to stare into her very soul and, for a moment, she felt as though she was standing on a precipice with danger all around her.
The moment passed as Darlheim smiled gently at her.
“Did you really think that Ethen could open a sealed message sent to me and then reseal it without my noticing? I may be old and my eyes may be weak, but do give me some credit, child.”
“What are you going to do to him?” she asked anxiously.
“Do? Nothing, of course. But the next time you see him, you should reprimand him for such clumsiness. One of your students should have done a better job.”
“I'll do that,” Mel replied with a relieved smile. “I did tell him that he was foolish to make a copy of the letter.”
“He did that as well?”
Darlheim shook his head in disbelief.
“What is the next generation coming to? I really do not know. But don't worry about him. He did what he did out of loyalty to the guild, and I cannot fault him for that, at least. But Annia added a hidden message within her letter using a technique that only masters of the highest level know. And that message was obviously overlooked by Ethen.”
Mel watched Darlheim speculatively. She'd never heard of a way to hide a message within a message, but she was sure that her father would be aware of it.
So he's still hiding secrets from me, she thought ruefully. That doesn't really surprise me, I suppose.
“Annia suspects that Corbin has employed a magic-user, possibly more than one, to use their powers against us,” the guildmaster continued.
He now looked truly angry, but Mel knew that his wrath wasn't directed at her, or her old student.
“Use their powers in what way?” she asked. “Is Annia sure that the prince is involved? No offense to her, but I can't believe that Corbin is smart enough to concoct a plan to disrupt the guild. And why us? Why the rogues guild?”
Darlheim held up a hand.
“One question at a time,” he replied. “To begin with, I believe that we have underestimated the king's son. He may be self-absorbed and greedy, but he isn't the fool that we thought he was. Annia was quite clear on that. I hate to admit it, but we may have been duped by him.”
Mel raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
The guildmaster smiled humorlessly.
“Yes, I know. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but we may have been too complacent about him and wrong in our assessment. Well, that complacency stops now. Anyone who dares to threaten the guild threatens us all and that cannot be allowed. As to why he wants to disrupt the guild, well, both of us know why.”
“Do we?”
“Of course we do. Contrary to the belief of the average citizen, the rogues guild has always been loyal to the crown. We have our own agenda, naturally, but we support the king or queen as long as they work for the good of the empire. But we will also oppose unjust rulers who try to harm our people, and we always have.”
He gave Mel a sober look.
“We have removed monarchs before, you know. Subtly, of course, but we have done it. I suspect that Corbin knows this. And if he doesn't, someone in his entourage surely does. So now he moves to counter the guild before we can act against him.”
Darlheim sighed and huddled deeper inside of his robe.
“Fortunately, thanks to Annia, we are now alerted to his plan and we will stop it.”
“But we are facing something new now, sir,” Mel pointed out. “Magic. It is an unknown threat and we have no way of countering it.”
“Not yet. But as you know, your father is exploring that unknown element right now. He stopped by for a moment to tell me that he was leaving. Hopefully he will return with insights about how we can respond to it.”
Mel nodded, but her expression was troubled.
“We are on unstable ground now, Guildmaster,” she said. “I know how clever my father is, but even he cannot learn all that there is to learn about magic in a few days.”
“Maybe not, but it will at least give us some knowledge that we can use against our enemies,” the old dwarf said. “And that's a start.”
Darlheim pushed himself to his feet, holding on to his desk to steady himself.
Mel jumped up and hurried around the desk to support him.
“Thank you, my dear,” the guildmaster said weakly. “I think that I've had enough of secret messages and communiques for one day. I need to rest now.”
Mel helped the old dwarf as he shuffled out of the office and into his private chambers. She got him settled into his large bed and tucked a thick quilt around him.
“You are too good to a cranky old dwarf,” Darlheim whispered with a smile.
“You have been like a second father to me,” Mel replied as she fussed with the quilt. “And if you're right about the threat to the guild, then we'll need your wisdom and insight in the days to come. So rest now. We will defeat the prince, just as we have defeated all of our foes who came before him.”
“I hope so,” the guildmaster said thinly. “I would hate to see everything we have built fall apart during my lifetime. It would be a shameful legacy.”
Mel patted his hand and stood up. Before she left the chamber, Darlheim motioned her closer and she leaned down to listen to his whisper.
“Protect your old student,” he murmured. “Keep him safe until he leaves Kingstone. I fear that I am not the only one who knows that he intercepted the message that Annia sent me.”
Mel's eyes widened and she stared at him in surprise.
Darlheim nodded slowly, his wispy beard fluttering like cobwebs in the dim light.
“Watch the shadows,” he added.
Chapter 6
In a far corner of Kingstone, a small section of the city ha
d been segregated away from the rest of the population. A high wall cut this neighborhood off from the rest of the population, with only a narrow gate allowing access into it.
This area was known by many names, depending on who you asked. Some called it the mages' quarter. Others whispered that it was the place of dark magics. And some portion of the populace derisively named it the home of the forgotten. It might be noted, however, that those dwarves never dared venture into that neighborhood.
Hallic Barston contemplated the gate leading into the cloistered section from some distance away. He stood in the shadows and watched as a pair of armored warriors spoke quietly with each other.
Ever since the crown had recognized the rights of magic-users in dwarven society, the king had had a detachment of the royal guard stationed at the entrance to protect those few dwarves who were gifted, or cursed according to some, with the ability to use magic. The general population still did not trust them, having spent centuries denying their very existence, and Shandon Ironhand did not want any clashes between the two sides. Tensions were still high and it might only take one incident for emotions to boil over into violence.
People are fools, Hallic thought to himself. Denying the existence of magical power was like saying that the sun didn't exist just because you had never seen it. It was still real nonetheless.
He had no interest in asking for the guards' permission to enter, and Hallic doubted that they would let him through the gate anyway. And so, with a final glance at the warriors, he turned a corner to ensure that he was out of their sight and then leaped up to climb to the top of the house that he was standing next to.
His nimble fingers found narrow cracks and small protrusions that others wouldn't even have noticed and he reached the rooftop in seconds.
From where he stood, Hallic looked for the best route to the wall surrounding the mages' quarter. Several buildings lay between himself and the barrier, each one separated by gaps. Some of these gaps were a dozen feet across or more.
The rogue smiled to himself and began to run.
Hallic was clad from head to foot in black leather. His head was covered with a hood and, in the dim light on the rooftops, he was almost invisible. As he ran, his form blurred as if he'd become a breath of wind.
The rogue leaped over the gaps with ease. His footfalls were muffled and as he reached the edge of the last roof before the wall, Hallic leaped up and scaled the barrier in seconds. When he reached the top, he stopped and listened to the guards below.
Their conversation continued uninterrupted and Hallic nodded.
So far, so good, he thought. Now comes the hard part.
He had the name of a contact within the quarter, but he wasn't sure where that person was. His informant had simply told Hallic to enter the walled-off section and wait. After that, it would be up to the other person to meet with Hallic if he decided to do so.
Well, I might as well get in there and see what happens, the rogue thought. This should be interesting.
He jumped from the top of the wall down to the nearest roof and rolled to soften the impact. He ended up in a crouch and listened intently.
The entire area was deathly quiet. Hallic knew that at least a hundred dwarves lived in the neighborhood and yet it could have been deserted. There were no sounds of people walking or talking, no noises of children playing; nothing but heavy silence hung in the air.
I'm being watched, Hallic thought as he peered across the rooftops. I don't know how or by whom, but I am definitely being watched.
The underground city always looked the same, of course, but dwarven society operated on a twenty-four hour schedule that mimicked the rise and fall of the hidden sun that illuminated the distant world above them. As Hallic listened for any signs of life, it was the middle of the day in Kingstone. And yet there was only silence surrounding him. It wasn't normal.
“State your business here.”
Hallic spun around, staying low, and looked for whomever had just spoken. He was alone on the rooftop, but it sounded like the speaker was standing just beside him.
After a moment's hesitation, the rogue stood up and held his hands out from his sides. Obviously he was being observed and he wanted whoever was doing it to know that he wasn't a threat.
“My name is Hallic Barston,” he said evenly. “I am here to speak to someone named Larin Dunnor.”
There was a moment of heavy silence and Hallic waited quietly, not making any sudden moves. A creeping feeling of danger crawled up his spine and he felt that he was in grave peril.
“And what does the famous Hallic Barston want with me?”
Turning around again, the rogue saw a dwarf standing no more than a dozen feet away, watching him beneath heavy brows.
The stranger was wearing a long gray robe secured with a red sash around his ample waist. He had a neatly trimmed red beard and large blue eyes and he exuded an aura of authority that Hallic recognized immediately.
This is someone who wields power, he thought. What kind of power I do not know, but whatever it is, it would be wise to respect it.
“Famous?” he replied with a small smile. “If that is true, then I am not very good at my job. A rogue should remain nameless and faceless if he is to be successful.
The stranger did not smile, but he nodded his agreement.
“Of course. But I make it my business to learn as much as I can about those with whom I might interact. You are well known in certain circles, Master Barston, and when I was contacted by a mutual acquaintance, I took it upon myself to explore your background.”
Hallic lowered his hands carefully.
“Did you now? And what have you learned, sir?”
This time, the robed dwarf smiled slightly.
“That you are very good at what you do, and that you are loyal to the crown. I appreciate both of those traits. I am Larin Dunnor. Welcome to the mages' quarter.”
Hallic bowed slightly.
“Thank you. I have no idea how I gave myself away or how you reached this rooftop, but I'm glad that we have made contact so quickly.”
“But you are here to learn more about magic, are you not?” Larin asked him.
“I am.”
“Then let this be your first lesson,” the mage told him. “Brace yourself.”
“What?”
Hallic frowned at him and then blinked several times.
He was suddenly standing in a room with a low ceiling. Many candles flickered in holders along the walls. Larin was sitting in a large leather chair next to a fireplace. He was smiling at the rogue's expression.
“Sorry about that. Please take a seat,” he said as he waved at another chair that stood on the other side of the fireplace. “Welcome to my home.”
The rogue hesitated for a moment, feeling slightly light-headed, and then walked over and sat down.
“How did you do that?” he asked the mage. “Transport the two of us from that rooftop to this room?”
“I did not,” Larin replied. “I only transported you. What you saw up on the roof was merely a projection of my image. I am not sure how human magic-users use their powers, but I do know that we dwarven mages use different spells and skills than they do. One thing that we can do is use a Gate spell on someone without actually touching them, or even being in the same location that they are. I do not believe that humans can do that.”
“Interesting,” Hallic said, absently tapping his lips with a forefinger. “That opens up a number of strategic advantages, does it not?”
“It does,” Larin said with a wide smile. “And I would ask you not to pass along that tidbit of information to others. Our fellow citizens fear us enough as it is. Can you imagine their reaction if they knew that we could simply spirit them away any time we wished? It isn't quite that simple, by the way, but I doubt most people would believe that.”
The rogue's expression became serious.
“I understand. Do not worry, Larin. Your secret is safe with me. After all, I am in th
e business of keeping secrets, as you know.”
The mage sighed as he settled into his chair.
“Thank you. Now, you've come to learn more about my people, have you not? Then by all means, ask your questions and I will answer them if I can.”
Hallic took a moment to look around the cozy little room. There was no evidence that his host used any technology. All of the light was cast by the dozens of candles around them. A metal grate inside of the fireplace was glowing with heat as a heap of coal burned there.
Several small tables were covered with papers and books, reminding the rogue of Darlheim's office. The air smelled of some sort of sweet incense; flowery and calming. Hallic liked it.
There was one narrow door leading out of the room and no windows. There was no way to know where they were and the rogue found that troubling.
“You don't like using electricity?” Hallic asked with a nod at the candles.
“I prefer natural light,” Larin replied. “As do my people. Also, we find that technology can interfere with our powers. As you know, when magical energy returned to the world over a decade ago, all technologically-related machinery failed. Our people had to go back to our old ways, using arcane power to run our cities and machines. Thankfully we are an ancient race, unlike the humans. We were able to retrieve plans from our archives and switch over fairly easily.”
The mage looked troubled.
“Which is why my people were so disappointed by our reception by other dwarves when we regained our powers. We've been shunned by society, for the most part, even though our race's very existence now depends upon magical energy. Isn't that ironic? Thankfully, Shandon Ironhand came to power at just the right time. He's defended us, made us more acceptable to others. He gave us this section of the city as a refuge and he has forbidden entry to all others unless we permit it. If not for the king, things could have gone very badly for us, especially as we relearned our skills and were at our most vulnerable. Now...”
The Dwarven Rebellion Page 7
