The Naming

by Torsten Weitze

  Uldini continued speaking with scorn in his voice.

  ‘No doubt Falk has told you about the dwarves’ legendary hospitality. That can be explained very easily. Once they’ve led you through here, you’ll feel as if you’ve been locked up and a dragon has swallowed the key. At which point, of course, they can be generous hosts, because if the guest doesn’t behave, well…’ the Arch Wizard didn’t finish his sentence, just smiled maliciously as Falk threw him a furious look.

  ‘No wonder you’ve collected two hundred and thirty-six insults, if you keep stirring things up. You know well how seriously they take such things. How many have you atoned for?’ he asked grumpily.

  ‘Not a single one’. The pride in Uldini’s voice was unmistakable, and Ahren was sure that the dwarf leading them had paused for a moment, having heard the enormous affront levelled against his folk.

  Falk turned and looked at the Arch Wizard in disbelief, but Uldini merely shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. ‘Dwarves love size and strength, that’s what you said yourself. I possess neither one nor the other. My abilities as one of the Ancients means nothing to them, and diplomatic niceties just bounce off their thick heads. So how far do you think I can get with the dwarves before I get on the wrong side of one of them? And if I then defend myself, it’s not according to their rules and so the next notch is scored in my list of insults against Dwarfdom.’

  The Arch Wizard’s voice had grown louder and louder as he spoke.

  ‘Do you know that they wanted to force the Emperor of the Sun Courts to sack me as his adviser once? Their ambassador made an ultimatum and it was only a very large, very heavy casket of gold that got them to change their minds. Of course, not one of my so-called insults was cancelled.’ Uldini finished his little tirade with an angry snort before settling into a brooding silence.

  Ahren made a decision to take special care of every word he said and of every action he took down here. He couldn’t imagine what might happen to him if he called his master’s reputation into question among this uncompromising folk after Falk had acted as guarantor for them all, and so he asked a question which he hoped would be harmless enough.

  ‘Who was the old dwarf who let us in earlier?’ Ahren couldn’t remember his complicated name anymore.

  Falk answered without turning around.

  ‘You mean Garmatulonok? He is the Clans Guard of the Silver Halls. His memory is perfect, that’s the prerequisite for this position. He knows the history of every dwarf who lives here, and the histories of all the friends of the Silver Cliff dwarves in his head. He decides who may pass through the Trading Hall and into the Clans Halls, and who may not.’

  ‘With a long name like that he must already have…’ Ahren paused and counted the syllables in his head, ‘…five Lonely Watches behind him if I’m not mistaken’. Ahren found the ritual whereby the dwarves could prove their worth endearing.

  Falk hesitated and then nodded.

  ‘In principle, yes, but there are exceptions. His last three syllables were honorary awards, one for every century he remained sitting in that chair back there.’

  Ahren thought that his master was pulling his leg, but the expected laughter never came.

  ‘Are you telling me that he’s been sitting on that chair receiving visitors for over three hundred years?’ he asked in disbelief.

  The length of time itself was unimaginable, but the thought of performing this single, monotonous activity for so long seemed quite incredible to the apprentice.

  Jelninolan muttered something about barbaric rituals and Falk continued hastily and loudly as he tried to drown out the elf’s comment. The dwarf guard’s lantern threw flickering shadows on the walls of the seemingly endless passageway, whose twists and turns were leading them ever deeper into the cliff.

  ‘You mustn’t forget that his perceptions are different. He spends his time in a state of torpidity, and he has been fully awake for perhaps ten of the last three hundred years. For many dwarves long watches at remote entrances or honour watches in the Clan Hall are a tried and tested means of doing their bit in gaining a name-syllable, and at the same time only sacrifice a small period of their lives’, explained the Forest Guardian in a conciliatory tone.

  In the beginning the air had been cold and damp, but the further they penetrated the cliff, the drier and more stifling it became. The salty sea air was replaced by a strangely dusty smell, and Ahren had the feeling as if a sack of flour was slowly being pressed onto his chest. He began to breathe more quickly, and he noticed that Jelninolan and Khara were doing the same. Eventually, the feeling became unbearable and the apprentice, thinking he was going to suffocate, hit his master’s armoured back, breathlessly. In his panic he hit the forest Guardian with much more force than intended and a loud clash echoed down the dark corridors and passageways.

  Falk spun around with a curse, but when he realised what was happening, he stopped and indicated to their guide to do the same. Then he spoke quietly to his three breathless companions, all of whom had sunk down onto their knees.

  ‘What you are experiencing at the moment is what is called Mountain Lung or Depth Breath. Uldini and I know how to deal with it, but you still have to become accustomed to the different air and also to your thoughts regarding the rock surrounding you. Close your eyes and hold your breath for a short time, even if you find it uncomfortable.’

  Ahren did as he was told and broke into a sweat. It took all his willpower not to gasp for breath and so he fled into the Void. Immediately, the cool benevolent peace of the emotionless condition came over him, and even if his lungs were still pleading for oxygen, at least he was no longer in a panic.

  Culhen sensed the discomfort of his friends and ran around between them, planting encouraging, if quite useless, slobbery licks of his tongue on them.

  Ahren heard Falk’s voice giving them further instructions.

  ‘Very good. Now, breathe in, hold your breath, count to five and breathe out. If you feel a pressure on your lungs, try to breathe slowly and in a controlled way through the pain.’

  At the start it was almost impossible to follow the old man’s instructions, but it gradually became easier and finally the pain on Ahren’s chest was gone and it was as if he had never experienced it. The apprentice opened his eyes and his master gave him an approving nod. Khara was the next to be ready and finally Jelninolan opened her eyes. Soon Culhen too had calmed down and Ahren wasn’t the only one wiping away panicky beads of sweat from his face, not to mention dog saliva.

  ‘I hate mountains’, whispered Jelninolan, who was drenched in sweat. She grabbed onto Culhen’s fur and pulled herself up.

  Falk grunted. ‘I thought you were down the mines a few times during the Dark Days’, he said with a questioning undertone.

  ‘Only in Wyrm Caves or Packtooth nests. Never deep in the rock’, she said shortly.

  Ahren pricked up his ears and decided to ask his master later. He really needed to broaden his horizons regarding the various Dark Ones.

  They went on in silence, and after what seemed like an endlessly long and boring time, the tunnel suddenly ended with a rectangular shaped hall whose roof was held up by mighty pillars hewn into the stone. Attached to each of them was a deep bowl in which burned the same strange red fire. There were almost two dozen rectangular walls because of the many corners of the room, each with an entrance as wide as it was high, and each protected by several guards. To the left and right of each entrance were angular symbols, each door having its own special pattern. The dwarves wore the symbols of their respective doors on mighty broad shields, which stood before them. Ahren recognised some of the symbols from the entrance door to the cliff and he studied them curiously.

  ‘The Grand Junction. Here you find the entrances to every clan in the Silver Cliff, each recognisable by its unique symbol’, whispered Uldini to Ahren.

  While Falk was speaking to their guide in Dwarfish, Ahren took the opportunity of leaning over to the Arch Wizard.

&nbs
p; ‘Who are all the dwarves here? Are they all guards?’

  Uldini nodded. ‘These are honour guards of the individual clans. If you look at them carefully, you will see that they’re all standing in torpidity. Most of them are greenhorns who want to earn their first syllables in a safe environment.’

  Ahren carefully studied the vacuous countenance of the dwarf guards. He wanted to remember the qualities of their strangely unfocussed looks so that he could recognise more quickly if a dwarf was in a state of torpidity. Then he quickly called Culhen back, who was sniffing at one of the young guards curiously. The apprentice wasn’t sure how a guard would react if it was yanked out of its torpidity by a wet tongue, and he didn’t want to risk finding out.

  Falk, meanwhile, had said goodbye to the dwarf who had safely led them through the labyrinth, and now turned to the others.

  ‘That way leads to the guest caves. We’re allowed to move freely there. We can also request to have conversations with members of individual clans if we wish.’

  Falk looked around and scratched his beard thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s quite late already. Why don’t we take up quarters and have something to eat. Then we can discuss our next steps’, said the old Forest Guardian.

  ‘Why can’t I shake off the notion that you’re hiding something important from us again’, grumbled Uldini.

  ‘Come with me first’, said Falk firmly.

  Ahren was hungry and tired, and the idea of eating and sleeping were very attractive. Anyway, he was glad to have a little time to digest his experiences of the past few hours. And so he followed his master, and the two women did the same. After some hesitation and a few softly spoken curses about stubborn Forest Guardians, Uldini followed his companions through the only unguarded entrance.

  This entrance was no different to the others. Ahren calculated its dimensions to be four paces high and wide. Behind it was a short tunnel with heavy doors placed at regular intervals along it.

  Falk stood at the main entrance and looked at the doors. He was unsure of which to open.

  ‘I was only here once before and that time I was the guest of the clan of silver workers. I was never actually in this spot.’ Then he picked out a door at random and opened it.

  Ahren was standing directly behind him and gave a low gasp of surprise when he saw the spacious chamber which the heavy wooden door had revealed. Even Falk seemed impressed and stepped inside. Ahren almost pushed past Falk in his excitement.

  ‘Come in’, he shouted excitedly, ‘you have to see this!’

  The chamber was at least fifteen paces long and fifteen paces wide and the ceiling was over five paces above them. The walls were made of hewn rock, but that was as far as the simplicity of their accommodation went. The cross section of a square shaped quartz vein in the ceiling spread an orange-red uniform light which fell on pillars decorated in gold, silver-plated trunks and enormous wardrobes. The solid tables and chairs were made from the same robust wood as the heavy door.

  The travellers looked around in curiosity. Several entrances led from the main room to individual guest rooms, which were smaller but decorated just as opulently as the common room. Each contained a comfortable looking bed which extended the length of the wall.

  There were tankards placed everywhere containing a dark brew which Ahren identified as some kind of strong beer, and on each table there was a dish containing smoked fish and dried mushrooms, each the size of a saucer. A separate plate contained a strongly smelling gold and yellow cheese. The intensive smells caused Ahren’s mouth to water.

  The aromas had the same effect on Falk and Uldini and before twenty heartbeats had passed the men were sitting together and helping themselves to the food. Khara sat with them, although she ate with a little more scepticism and avoided the cheese altogether.

  Only Jelninolan couldn’t be won over by the choice of food, but a short while later they were surprised to hear a little cry of delight, and when Ahren went over to have a look, he saw the reason for her exuberance.

  One of the entrances to the main room led over a long, gently-bending hallway to a small, hewn cavern with gently steaming flowing water. Somehow, the little folk had managed to tap into a hot spring and direct it to this cavern.

  Jelninolan was clearly so keen on taking a bath after two weeks on board ship that she had already begun undressing herself when Ahren came around the corner. Her appearance was far from indecorous at this point but nonetheless Ahren spun around and made his retreat before the elf noticed him. Ahren kept catching himself being embarrassed by the priestess’s new, athletic body, and the young man found it hard to reconcile her new appearance with the motherly feelings Jelninolan’s earlier self had radiated.

  He told the others about the hot spring, and Khara jumped up without saying a word and ran towards it, not forgetting to take a drumstick for provisions.

  Ahren sat with Falk and Uldini, and the sound of splashing water occasionally echoed from the cavern nearby. Now the apprentice asked the questions that had been at the back of his mind.

  ‘Master, you say there is a purpose to the openly displayed wealth of the dwarves. But what is it? Do they not just attract outlaws?’

  He chewed on the surprisingly aromatic cheese while he waited for an answer. Ahren had discovered that it tasted remarkably good as long as you avoided smelling it beforehand.

  Falk was just in the process of chewing on a hock and he spoke while he ate.

  ‘Ye Gods, how I love Dwarfish food. My heart belongs to the elves, but my stomach is definitely Dwarfish in origin.’

  He took another serious bite before addressing his apprentice’s question.

  ‘The maxim of the small folk is very simple: present what you can do and what you can protect. Everything you see here, the dwarves consider to be justifiable grandiosity and absolutely safe from theft. Their business tactic is very simple but effective: a merchant who sees their riches will automatically offer more for Dwarfish goods because they assume that a lower offer will arouse no interest. And the fortifications and the dragon bows make it clear to the merchant that he will only obtain the Dwarfish goods by engaging in trade.’

  Falk chewed his meat for a moment.

  ‘It seems to have worked very well for the past couple of centuries.’

  Ahren nodded and took some more cheese and mushrooms, washing them down with some of the beer, which made him light-headed without clouding his senses.

  ‘And what kind of a light is that?’ he asked, pointing up at the quartz rectangle.

  Falk paused and looked up for a moment, then put his knuckle of meat aside.

  ‘That is a really good sleight of hand, if a damned expensive one. You saw the red flames when we came in? In the Trading Hall and the Grand Junction?’

  Uldini and Ahren nodded. Ahren was astonished, for it seemed that the Arch Wizard couldn’t answer Ahren’s question either. This was the first time the ageless magus was ignorant of anything that was based on facts.

  ‘It’s Deep Fire’, said Falk, interrupting Ahren’s train of thought. ‘It’s made from Deep Steel which has been saturated in various oils before being set alight. Only Deep Fire can set other Deep Fire alight. But it doesn’t consume itself and its flame is practically eternal. It’s difficult to prepare and so extremely costly. They have a lot of it here, which suggests that the Silver Cliff is doing extremely well financially.’

  Falk’s calloused hand pointed upwards.

  ‘Up there behind the quartz there must be Deep Fire burning, which makes for continuous light. As I said, a trick, but a very good one, and very impressive.’

  Then Falk took up his hock of meat again and continued eating.

  Uldini looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling.

  ‘Eternal fire? Why don’t I know anything about it? You could do a lot with that.’

  Falk put down his food again and gave Uldini a firm look.

  ‘That’s exactly why. If you really want to burn something, throw a fire c
harm. Deep Fire is extremely expensive and its temperature is so high that the bowls in which it burns have to be manufactured using a special alloy.’

  He pointed at the cave walls that surrounded them.

  ‘One big Deep Fire can keep all of the rooms in the Silver Cliff warm and dry with the help of narrow shafts set into the walls. The Grand Junction is kept at a stable temperature by a few torches even though there over twenty passages through which the heat can escape. And the bowl in the Trading Hall serves as a bulwark against the sea air. They may come across as stubborn and inflexible, but they’re not stupid. By the time you’ve thought of two ways of solving a problem, they will have come up with three, and will already have implemented them.’

  Uldini rolled his eyes. ‘If you love the little folk so much, why did you end up with the elves then’, he asked bitingly.

  Ahren looked down and held his breath. He’d been asking himself the same question ever since they’d arrived, and he was eager to hear the answer.

  To his surprise Falk was not enraged by the question but instead he gave a slight smile.

  ‘It’s deep respect rather than love. I was a broken man and that didn’t bother them as long I stuck to the rules. They gave me a few years of stability when I needed it urgently. But I was never welcomed in Thousand Halls, and the dwarves here are purely merchants and crafts people. Neither of which gave me happiness or peace. And so, I headed off again and a few decades later I landed with the elves. They saw my pain and weren’t indifferent to it. My conviction in Eathinian, where the punishment was to work off my guilt, saved me. Ultimately that was of more value than culinary preferences.’

  Then he continued eating and they sat for a while in silence.