by Alex Janaway
‘You think they’ll give up? Marmus, I know what Patiir truly is. He is driven in a way I have never seen. I have read accounts, studied the histories. Patiir will not let this slide. You think that he’ll stop with your assurances? He no longer trusts you. Tekla? She will see your trade diminished, dashed against the rocks of her ambition. This is the excuse they wanted.’
Fillion kept his eyes locked on Marmus. Was it getting through?
‘Aye, an excuse, Marmus. You don’t know what they are capable of. You think it ends with the humans? It will end with you!’ He thrust his free hand out, reaching for Marmus. The dwarf stepped back a pace, batting Fillion’s arm away.
‘Dammit, Sabin. You sound like a madman.’
But Fillion could see something in Marmus’s demeanour. He was shaken. He had to press on.
‘Marmus. I’m sorry. I do not mean to scare you but I must be candid. Patiir has convinced the King that putative measures must be taken. The dwarves must be brought to heel, the dwarves must be subjugated. The dwarves must know their place. And if not, then they must be taught.’
Marmus was shaking his head and pulling at his beard.
‘This is outrageous. It is nonsense, Sabin. Can you hear yourself? Do you understand the treason you are uttering?’
Fillion drew in a shuddering breath.
‘Do I know that I put my life on the line? And that of my family? You think I didn’t pause and think about my actions? I did and I knew that I could not live with the lie.’ Fillion hung his head. ‘Marmus, my friend. Do you believe the timing of the human revolt was by chance?’
He looked up at the dwarf. His face was unreadable in the shadows.
‘What are you saying, Sabin?’ asked Marmus quietly.
‘I’m saying that I was but one cog in a much larger machine. I was sent to confirm what Patiir already believed to be true. And then he acted.’ Fillion paused to down his ale. Let that information sink through. It was the best lie, the one that was virtually the truth.
‘Sabin. Are you telling me your father-in-law deliberately engineered the breakout and subsequent massacre of scores, hundreds of my kin?’
‘Yes.’
‘That fucking cunt. That fucking shit,’ whispered Marmus. He was starting to pace. ‘How the fuck? What does he think he is doing? He wants a fucking war?’ Marmus spun and grabbed Fillion by the shoulders, shaking him hard.
‘How did he do it? Was it you? Have you betrayed me?’ The violence coming from Marmus was palpable.
Fillion forced himself to stay calm, to not react, to deny his instincts to fight back.
‘No, no. It was not I. Think about our traveling companions. I was not the only elf. Did they not travel with you? Could they not have passed the message on? Engaged one of your own with gold?’
Marmus gripped tighter.
‘You think it was one of them? Ezra. Was it him?’
‘I truly don’t know.’
‘I bet it was. That old shit. Never trusted him.’ Marmus released his grip and resumed his walking. Fillion rolled his eyes and let out a breath. That could have gotten messy. Marmus stopped. ‘It galls me to think a dwarf may have been involved.’
‘There was gold, I’m sure of it,’ ventured Fillion.
Marmus stopped, looked at him sharply, then grunted.
‘That would do it,’ he said, then continued pacing.
‘All a dwarf would need to do is pass a message written in the human tongue. They would never know what it said,’ Fillion offered. But Marmus ignored him and carried on pacing.
‘This is unprecedented,’ he said, mostly to himself.
‘With respect, it is not,’ said Fillion.
‘Go on,’ said Marmus with a wave of his hand.
‘Think on it, the humans were destroyed because the elves thought them challengers. There was another race. A thousand years before them. They were destroyed because the elves feared their nature. Who knows, perhaps there were more? My people have existed for a long, long time.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ muttered Marmus. ‘You say they have done this before. Why not destroy us when they had the chance? The Dwarf Nations were not federated in the way they are now. When we came west we were a fractured people.’
Fillion rubbed his eyes. The two candles were both smoky, made of cheap tallow. ‘I truly don’t know. Perhaps the elves were not united in their view of you? I’ll tell you this, Patiir has been behind so much of the bloodshed, maybe he had to wait until he could gain the support he wanted, and drown out any moderate voices.’
Marmus laughed. It was an ugly sound.
‘Moderate? One thing you bastard elves are not is moderate. Look at you all, living your perfect lives while decent folk sweat for their gain.’
Fillion decided he didn’t want to be here anymore. He wasn’t enjoying taking the shit for being the only elf in the room. And he wasn’t even a damn elf!
‘What will you do?’ he asked, wanting to move things along.
‘What can I do? I can march into the Parliament tomorrow and accuse Patiir. That would go down well, wouldn’t it? I have no proof. Only your word.’
‘And that is not enough,’ agreed Fillion.
‘No. It isn’t.’ Marmus slammed a fist into the wall. Fillion actually jumped.
‘If he thinks he is getting away with this …’ Marmus sighed. ‘I am sending a messenger home. I will tell them what I have learned from you.’ He looked at Fillion. ‘This is not the first time dwarf and elf have come to blows, Sabin. In our first encounters it did not end well. But we are stronger now. Organised. You’ve seen our armies, have you not?’
Fillion nodded. ‘A terrible sight.’
‘Well imagine facing them. I’d like to see your arrows pierce our armour.’
‘Marmus, please. I don’t want it to come to that,’ said Fillion.
‘How else would you expect us to respond to such naked ambition?’
Fillion shook his head.
‘I don’t know.’
Marmus sighed. ‘Neither do I. Short of trying to expose the plot. Imagine how that would go down.’
He stepped forward and placed a hand on Fillion’s arm.
‘Sorry to get so angry with you, lad. I owe you a debt.’
‘You owe me nothing, Marmus. I just wish it had not come to this,’ replied Fillion.
‘Best you go home. Kiss your wife and your child and get some sleep. I have work to do, messages to send.’ He picked up a candle and gently ushered Fillion back to the rear door. ‘And tomorrow I go to Parliament and I will raise the matter.’
Fillion stepped through and stood in the lane.
‘You will confront Patiir?’ he asked.
‘And he will deny it. But I am still a politician and my job is to represent the best interests of my people. What that may be, I have yet to decide. Farewell and goodnight, friend Sabin.’
‘Goodnight.’ Fillion pulled his hood over his head and turned away.
He walked the streets of the capital. His mood was sour. He could not understand why. Looking at all that he had so far achieved, no one would have credited it. He would have laughed in the faces of any who would have suggested such an audacious undertaking, and yet here he was. He had engineered the escape of the last of his people and he was now this close to creating a rift between the enemies of humanity. He had even stood in front of the King of the elves. Yet all he could think of now was his little girl. Asleep, innocent, and unaware that her father was responsible for the deaths of thousands. He gained a measure of cold comfort when he thought about Brynne’s grandfather. Whatever Fillion might do, Patiir would always be worse and deserved to pay.
‘The House recognises the Ambassador of the Dwarf Nations,’ declared the Speaker.
Marmus stood up and slowly walked to the podium, looking neither left nor right, his face fixed firmly forwards. Fillion studied his posture. Marmus appeared formal, but there were no outward signs of tension. That was made up for by the hushe
d expectation around the chamber. Almost a thousand pairs of eyes followed the Ambassador as he mounted the steps and took his position. Stepping on to the box, he stood with his arms clasped behind his back and inspected the gathered Members of the elven kingdom. He took his time, his gaze travelling over the many elves, as if he were inspecting them, or perhaps appraising was a better word. Fillion wondered what Marmus had got up to last night after he departed. He doubted the dwarf had slept much. For his part, he had followed Marmus’s advice to the letter and had slept far better than he had any right to. He leaned forward in anticipation.
‘This should be interesting,’ whispered Ezra, sitting on his right in one of the viewing balconies. He had insisted that Fillion join him, sharing the advantage of Ezra’s senior position within the ranks of the Servants – he now got front seats for the dramatic events he was helping to orchestrate.
Fillion nodded noncommittally. Marmus began to speak.
‘Speaker. Members of Parliament. My colleagues. My friends …’ A pause to let that sink in. That last was dripping with venom. Fillion presumed that venom did not apply to himself and Kanyay. Maybe.
‘The days of late have been difficult. I have found myself hemmed in, beset on all sides by those who hold us, the Dwarf Nations, in contempt for our actions. At best we have been accused of dishonesty, at worst betrayal.’ Another pause as Marmus moved his arms and gripped the sides of the lectern. ‘I have thought long about these accusations. There is, I have concluded, substance to those words. We did indeed take more than our agreement had stipulated. We did, in hindsight, make an error in our belief that the enslavement of the surviving humans could be controlled. We have paid for that mistake. It was not our intention to breed a new population of slaves nor did we possess any agenda beyond simple, honest business advantage. You, of all the races, should understand that. I say again. We have paid for that mistake. Paid for it in the blood of hundreds of innocent dwarf folk. Families, if you recall, who worked hard, to create and craft, to supply you all with the highest quality goods my people can produce. Communities dedicated to the pursuit of peace through commerce and partnership. We paid for it.’
Another pause.
‘And who was it that marched with you into the west to annihilate the humans? Who was it that took up arms, bled and died alongside you? Many races did. But none with more commitment, none with more solidarity, and none with greater numbers than the dwarves. We were with you every step of the way. Until the end. We were there with you to see the destruction of an entire race. A blood-letting heretofore unheard of. We were there with you. And we shared in the burden of that terrible act.’ He raised a finger in the air. ‘But, I have begun to doubt the wisdom of our actions. I fear all we have done is sown the seeds of our own destruction!’
There was a collective intake of breath, then an outcry across the chamber as elves hissed their shock at his implication.
‘Peace! Be at peace,’ cried the Speaker.
‘There are those of you who want nothing less!’ Marmus shouted, holding his hands wide. ‘You deny it?’
Damn but the dwarf was going for it.
Voices answered him from across the chamber.
‘This is an outrage!’
‘Proof. Give us proof!’
‘How dare you accuse us!’
Marmus looked like he was grinning.
‘Proof? I have received word that the breakout was orchestrated, not by the humans. But by someone working for a Member of this very Parliament. And that Member, I can assure you, was not working alone.’
‘Lies!’
‘Name them!’
Fillion’s eyes opened wide. Shit. Would Marmus implicate him? But they were friends, weren’t they? But Fillion could hardly use that as a reason. His mind raced, preparing to act with as much outrage as the gathering below him, already formulating his denials.
‘You want me to name them?’ asked Marmus, cupping his ear. Fillion was genuinely amazed. Marmus was like a dwarf possessed. He was bloody enjoying himself. ‘You want me to name the elf who encouraged the humans to revolt? Who told them that they were to be slaughtered if they did not?’ He pointed his finger at the front row. ‘There she is! Member Tekla. And there …’ He moved his finger higher. ‘Her co-conspirator. Member Patiir!’ The chamber was in an uproar. Marmus was drowned out, his words meaningless. But the damage was done. And Fillion felt some of his tension abate. He was not implicated.
Fillion looked at Tekla. She had stood and was gesticulating at Marmus. He switched his stare to Patiir. He was surrounded by Members leaning in and speaking into his ear. For his part, he was studying Marmus, stroking his chin, and for all the world looking as calm and collected as he always did.
‘There is a game afoot,’ said Patiir. He leaned back in his chair and regarded Fillion closely. ‘What do think?’
Fillion shrugged.
‘I don’t know what to think. Our contact with Marmus was limited at best. Kanyay never suggested there was anything like this planned.’
‘He was never going to be the most reliable of go-betweens,’ said Patiir. ‘Even so, I feel an element of regret. Perhaps I should have made more of an effort to keep talking to Marmus.’
That was a surprising piece of contrition from the old elf.
‘What could we have done? Our position was clear,’ said Fillion.
‘True. We were the accusers. And their guilt was obvious.’
‘And they did not have a leg to stand on. So they did the only thing they could. They tried to turn it around. Shifted the blame.’ Fillion felt it best to be as supportive as he could.
‘It’s an ages-old tactic,’ agreed Patiir. ‘Yet it leaves them with nowhere to go. Marmus has effectively accused us, the whole elf race, of deliberately engineering a massacre as punishment for their actions.’
‘What are the options?’ asked Fillion.
Patiir raised his hands.
‘You tell me, Sabin. I would think they are obvious.’
Fillion puffed his cheeks and blew out the air. ‘We deny it. They, at best, withdraw all relations with us. At worst …’
Patiir nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘War.’
Patiir remained silent, a faint smile on his lips.
‘But that is unthinkable,’ pleaded Fillion.
‘It is unwanted, but not unthinkable, Sabin,’ Patiir replied. ‘I had no agenda beyond justice and reparation for their actions, as well you know. I expected them to offer, with some resistance, payment of some kind. Trade deals and the like, hence Tekla’s involvement.’
‘May I sit?’ asked Fillion, eager to show his exhaustion. Patiir nodded his assent. ‘Is this situation recoverable?’
‘Ah, that is the question. We have not had a situation like this for many centuries, not since we reached an accord with our woodland kin. I must go and speak to Tekla. Together we will seek an audience with the King. I imagine a summons will be issued shortly, but I prefer to stay ahead of that.’
‘What will you tell the King?’
Patiir steepled his fingers and rested his lips against them for a moment. ‘I will tell him that our position has not changed. That the dwarves brought this on themselves. And I will also say that I believe there is something else.’
Fillion leaned forward. ‘Something else?’
‘This is a desperate gambit that Marmus has played. Does the mandate come from the dwarf Council? He brings us to the brink. It is not like him. Therefore, he must have a motivation. The dwarves are stubborn, yes. They never forget a slight, yes. But he accuses us without evidence. So, again, I find myself asking: why? What does he know?’
‘There was no plan, Patiir,’ replied Fillion. ‘We never wanted this.’
‘No, we did not. Yet, something has convinced Marmus that our intentions went far beyond the truth of it. Marmus is pragmatic, a politician; yet his actions are far beyond rational.’
‘That I agree with. It is not like him,’ said Fillion. Thou
gh considering the truth, he felt Marmus had it spot on.
Patiir stood. ‘We will discover the facts, in due time. But right now, I am accused of warmongering. It is something I must answer. Fillion, please stay at your post until I return. There will be any number of visitors.’
‘Yes, Patiir. And what should I tell them?’
‘The truth. I have gone to speak to the King.’
Fillion inclined his head and watched Patiir sweep out of his office.
He sat back and placed the palms of his hands on to his thighs. He breathed deeply. Events were starting to move out of his control. All he could do was look to nudge where possible, speculate, drop hints and generally stir as much as he dare. He could do that, yes. All in all, a good day.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – OWEN
It took them the best part of a week to return to Eagle’s Rest, Owen did not want to push Jussi and Ayolf too hard. He felt for Larsen and the others. Their trek was longer, and through gnome territory, though plenty enough of those bastards had been cleared over the last year. He liked to imagine the gnomes now thought the lands to be haunted. And what would the elves be thinking? It was an audacious strike, moving through Celtebaria and into the borders of the wood elf territories, but it had been worth every league they had travelled. He felt, for the first time in a long time, light of heart. Rationally, it made no sense to feel that way, but emotionally, he believed that finally they were doing something positive. They weren’t running and hiding anymore. It made him feel more human. That they were reclaiming some lost part of themselves. Hah! Listen to him, Owen Derle, the great philosopher.
They flew along the ridge path, keeping low. They waved to the watcher in the gate tower and did a wide circle over the settlement. He spotted Jenni standing at the steps to the hall and Arno dipped his wings. She raised her hand in greeting.
A gaggle of children burst from the hall and ran down the steps, screaming and clapping cheerfully as Jussi swooped even lower than Owen. Someone was showing off.
‘Come along, you. Ayolf needs his rest.’
‘He’s the one chasing the praise, Owen!’
