by R J Hanson
Rogash moved to the large area in the center of the cavern and waited while seven dwarven males, although Silas had to admit that the determination of gender was an assumption on his part, gathered around him. The rest of the dwarven population remained near where they had been when Rogash entered the room.
Of course, these people had been brutalized by the warlord in his way. However, it seemed to Silas that, beyond the taking of a female now and again for his breeding experiments, Rogash had been somewhat reasonable regarding the treatment of the dwarves. Silas moved through the gathering to stand next to Rogash. Oddly enough, the dwarves seemed comfortable with Silas, likely owing to the fact that his input in Rogash’s breeding experiments had brought a halt to the use of dwarven females in the process.
“Hear me, think on my words, and give your reply when I come this time tomorrow,” Rogash began. “I come to offer freedom by means of a contract. I am in need of workers to travel to a far land and build me a fortress there. I’m in need of skilled hands with hammer and pick that know steel and stone. My offer, that for ten years of good service, you’ll go free with a gold coin in your pocket for each year.”
The dwarves began to murmur at that, and the noise of their chatter rose until Rogash held up his broad hands.
“You’ll not travel there with your family,” Rogash continued. “They’ll remain here, where I can keep them… safe. But, come ten years’ time, you’ll walk free alongside your family with coin in your pocket. There is a mountain range that remains untouched since the time of the Battles of Rending. There are great treasures there, and each one of you that is willing to accept my rule can have your own mine after that ten-year time.”
Silas opened his mouth to protest but stopped at Rogash’s upheld finger and hard stare.
“Think on this, speak to your people, and have your answer and any volunteers ready this time tomorrow.”
With that, Rogash walked from the room. Silas, still stunned at the offer to the dwarves made by Rogash, had to run to catch up to the half-ogre warlord.
“Warlord Rogash, we might have discussed ownership and future contracts before you made such a grandiose offer to your slaves,” Silas said as he caught up to Rogash in the corridor outside the dwarven caverns.
“We might have,” Rogash replied with a nod. “But then I would not have garnered such a genuine response from you. They noticed your strong desire to protest the offer. That will give it more value, more credit, to them than anything I said. They’ll have a few questions tomorrow, and that’s when we’ll square away the details. I think you’ll have quite a large workforce when we’re done negotiating.”
“One question, if you’ll allow,” Silas said.
After a few more paces, Rogash nodded.
“Those mountains, and everything that’s in them, belongs to me, and thereby my mistress,” Silas said. “How do you plan to pay us for what you’ve just claimed?”
“Your mistress’s gratitude would be, ‘expressed in terms you find agreeable,’” Rogash said. “Those were your exact words, were they not?”
“I think you know that they were,” Silas said, a bit angry at himself for allowing this to transpire as it had.
“Relax, young Chaos Lord,” Rogash said with a smile that curled around one upwardly turned tusk. “Taxes will be paid to me, and I will pay my share to you, or your mistress. As to the dragon, I have no need for such a beast, and thus make no claim on one of the greater treasures to be found in Wodock. This star iron, though. That is another matter.”
Silas felt much better the following day, largely thanks to the meal offered by Rogash. Apparently, one of Rogash’s patrols had happened upon the priest of in the forest outside the Suthiel. Of course, the priest was there to meet with a prostitute, but he was not the first soul to go missing outside that fabled wooded land.
He met with Rogash, as they had arranged, and returned to the dwarven caverns to see if any among their number were willing to sign such a contract. Silas did have to admit that the proposal was a clever one.
Rogash once again made his way to the center of the large gathering area of the cavern. There he stood and awaited the seven anvilmen of the dwarves. The dwarves gathered about, many looking to one another for support. Not the anvilmen, though, Silas noticed. They were clear of mind and purpose. Or, at least, they appeared to be.
“When you say serve you, what do you mean by that?” one of the younger dwarves asked unceremoniously.
“You are?”
“Kentooc, hinge-master of clan Iron Knee,” the young dwarf responded.
“Well, Kentooc, I mean the same as any lord, warlord, or king would mean,” Rogash said in response. “Worship whoever you like. Govern yourselves however you like. You’ll pay me a twenty percent tax on what you produce, and you’ll fight for me when called. However, unlike the King of Lethanor, I give you my word now that you’ll never be called to arms for a cause other than to defend your own homes and our lands.”
“What value does your word have?” Kentooc asked plainly.
“No more value than you assign to it, I suppose,” Rogash replied bluntly. “I’ve taken from you, stolen from you, years and blood—no doubting that. There’s not one among you that I don’t owe, and I could never repay you for what’s been taken. I don’t propose to even try. This isn’t a deal for us to get even. This is a deal for me to get something I want, and for you to get something you want. No more, no less. I’ve enslaved you by force of arm and plan to keep you so. This deal is your chance out. That simple.”
“How can you know we’ll not rise up against you once we have our freedom, families, and own mines in this distant land?”
“I don’t. I am, however, convinced that your prosperity there will far outweigh any grudge you feel against me. If I’m wrong, then so be it. You can try your uprising, and I’ll kill every single one of you. If I’m right, then you’ll be too rich to care about old grudges.”
There was a good deal of murmuring at that, and some quiet discussion among the seven anvilmen. Soon enough they nodded some silent agreement and addressed Rogash and Silas once again.
“How many?”
“All who wish to sign on,” Rogash said.
“So, we could all accept the deal?”
“That’s what I’m offering.”
“Done,” the seven said in unison.
“Meaning how many?”
“All,” Kentooc said.
“When will they be ready to sail?” Silas asked as he and Rogash were once again walking back up the corridor to Rogash’s chambers.
“As soon as you have a boat ready,” Rogash replied.
“Technically, if it’s a sea-going vessel, it’s referred to as a ‘ship,’” Silas corrected out of habit.
Silas looked up to the warlord that was two feet taller and untold stone heavier and took note of the lack of humor in that face.
“Boat, boat is fine,” Silas said. “I’ll have it ready within a week. Move them through the drow caverns to the mines of House Morosse. From there, we’ll move them through Moras and to the docks. There is one more thing I must ask of you. The star iron, do you have enough left to make a longsword?”
Six days later, Silas, posing as Cambrose of House Wellborne, was summoned into the throne room of Lady Evalynne of Moras. The harsh clip of his boots striking the polished black/white checkered marble floor resounded throughout the corridors of the Keep. Silas entered the room to find Lady Evalynne sitting in her throne flanked by two guardsmen, Uriel-Ka standing behind and to the right of her. Silas noted that Uriel-Ka was attempting to look confident and imposing. Silas also noted that Ka had managed to replace or regrow the ring finger Silas had snatched from that hand and eaten in this very room. Clearly feeling Silas’s eyes upon the hand, Uriel-Ka tucked it behind his back, trying but failing to maintain a threatening posture.
Lady Evalynne wore a sea-green gown that barely concealed her more intimate curves and lines, clinging and s
heer in some places, and hanging almost too loose in others. Her hair hung in large, loose curls about her tanned shoulders, and paints had been skillfully applied to her eyes and lips. Silas recognized she had clearly not given up on plying him with her wiles.
Silas stopped the appropriate distance from her throne, offered a curt and professional bow, and then turned his gaze to the guards. With a bit of a sigh, Lady Evalynne flicked her hand toward the guards, her arm never lifting from the throne. These men were well-practiced and well trained. They recognized the subtle signal immediately and marched from the room without the slightest hesitation.
“It was very kind of you to allow me to enter with my ceremonial rapier and dagger remaining on my person,” Silas said with a slight bow. “I’m glad to see that we are building trust.”
“I think my wizard can attest that those obvious weapons are far from the most dangerous in your repertoire,” she said as she rose and strode toward a table of maps and ledgers nearby. “Our new trade routes are proving successful; I take it?”
“They are,” Silas said as he also approached the table and set a large bag of coins before her. “Very successful, I believe. So much so, in fact, that we may have to make other arrangements for your tariffs to be paid. I fear semi-annual meetings like this will require large and quite heavy chests of coin. I shudder to think of what such weight might do to my poor back. With your permission, I would suggest your percentages be paid to your sea captains per shipment. I think we’ve established the route such that the men involved have come to understand the procedure, and the nature of those they serve.”
“That sounds like a fine suggestion,” she said as she tossed the sack of coins to Uriel-Ka. “On to new business?”
“New business, my lady?”
“You want something,” she said, allowing her lips to brush the edge of her teeth in what Silas was sure she believed to be a seductive gesture. “I can always tell when a man wants something.”
“If you’ll pardon my saying so, I believe the lady desires something as well. However, I was not raised in the absence of manners or etiquette. Thus, I’ll show my cards first, as the sailors say. My lady is no stranger to steel or the use of a blade. With your permission?”
Silas gestured to the dagger on his belt, the one made for him by Rogash, and she nodded her consent. Silas removed the dagger and noted Uriel-Ka seem to tense from eyebrows to toenails. Ka had made a quick count of the coin in the bag, and it now rested on the throne next to him, leaving both of his caster’s hands empty and ready. Silas also noticed, using his other senses, that Ka concealed a wand of twisted copper and steel within the sleeve of his robes and that he was prepared to drop it to his skilled hands in the flash of one swift movement. Silas smiled at that. Once upon a time, he had considered the wizard supremely dangerous, and to discount him now would be a perilous mistake, but Silas now saw him merely as a man who possessed a few common tricks. Deadly tricks, to be sure, but tricks, nonetheless. Silas now had a much better understanding of true power.
Silas drew the star iron dagger; it’s black metal shining in the trace rays of sunlight gleaming through the nearby windows. He gestured toward another dagger, one of steel that lay on the map table currently holding the corner of a map in place. Upon her nod, Silas took up the steel dagger in one hand and placed the edge of the star iron blade against the crosspiece, this thumb opposite the edge in the same manner one might slice an apple. With only a little more effort than needed to slice an apple, Silas cut through the crosspiece, handle, and blade of the steel dagger, dropping the upper end of the hewn blade onto the table.
Both Lady Evalynne and Uriel-Ka were practiced diplomats and courtiers, skilled in the arts of deception and misdirection. Silas was pleased to note the reaction, although subdued, from both. Clearly, they were intrigued.
“House Morosse has made claim to the mountains of Wodock,” Silas said, rather bluntly. “I assume that information is not news to the Lady of Moras.”
Silas was glad to see this revelation was not news to either of them. In fact, he observed that Evalynne and Ka both seemed a bit deflated, indicating this was news they were hoping to somehow ambush him with and use to their advantage.
“Material such as this is very limited,” Silas continued. “But there is some to be had.”
Silas sheathed his dagger and clapped his hands loudly. Upon his signal, two dwarves were admitted into the throne room, walking side by side. They each carried a black silk pillow, the hilt of a longsword wrapped in a silver chiffon cloth rested on one pillow while the blade of the sword, also wrapped in chiffon, rested on the other. The silver and black were colors of Lady Evalynne’s crest, but she noted they were the colors of House Morosse as well. Walking in step with one another, the dwarves approached Silas and stopped, as practiced, ten paces from him and bowed.
Of course, the blade had not been crafted by dwarves; in fact, it had been crafted by the greatest bladesmith Silas had ever known. However, the fact that the bladesmith was a half-ogre might taint the perception of the gift. Thus, the presence of the dwarves allowed Silas to imply something without having to say a word.
Silas placed his hands under the blade and hilt and lifted the longsword from the pillows. He then turned and took a knee before Evalynne as he offered the sword up to her. She approached, skepticism and excitement warring for control of her facial expressions. She was a lady of court, but had spent many decades with longsword in hand conquering small pieces of the world one at a time. Lady Evalynne of Moras was now enamored with those days of battle as memories of hardships often do return in a kinder light.
Evalynne took up the sword, a masterful work of this black metal inlaid with silver, and examined the hilt closely. She noted large white diamonds at each end of the crosspiece, complemented by an even larger white diamond on the pommel. She also saw her sigil, the symbol of a sword cutting the waves of the sea, engraved on both sides of the shoulder of the blade and inlaid with shining silver.
In one fluid motion, Evalynne rolled the hilt over her hand and flipped the magnificent blade full circle. She then retracted the blade, spun, and reversed her grip to thrust it out behind her into the empty air. She pulled the sword back to her middle once again, reversing her grip, switching hands upon the hilt, and thrust the tip of the blade several inches into the thick wood of the large map table. The blade slid through the hard wood as though it were no more than a mound of hay.
This was the sort of weapon Lady Evalynne truly appreciated. It was stunning in its beauty and craftsmanship, and it was as deadly as it was attractive, much like its new wielder.
“Did the craftsman dub it with a name?” Evalynne asked after several more moments of close examination.
“No, my lady.”
“I will call her Helleka Toongall, Queen’s Tongue,” Evalynne said.
“My Lady, perhaps that would be a bit presumptuous,” Uriel-Ka put in from his place near the throne. He had been careful not to take a single step closer to Silas.
The threat that flashed in Lady Evalynne’s eyes was clear and beyond alternative interpretation. Uriel-Ka lowered his eyes immediately and took a half step back.
“Queen’s Tongue, excellent moniker, my lady,” Silas said as he rose from his kneeling position.
“What would you have for it?”
With a wave of his hand, the dwarves tucked their pillows under their arms and exited the throne room with haste. As the doors closed behind the dwarves, Silas turned to Lady Evalynne and offered her a knowing smile.
“If you have not been approached yet, then you will be,” he said as he began the words he’d rehearsed over the past few days. “An assassin of uncommon skill and reputation is coming to Moras, intent on moving against Stewardess Dru and myself.”
“If he has such a reputation, perhaps he’s not as skilled as you say,” Uriel-Ka dared to say.
Silas favored Ka with a slight smile and ran his tongue briefly over his teeth. The small act
carried a significant threat, as far as Ka was concerned, and thus he lowered his eyes once again.
“And?” Evalynne said, returning her gaze to the sword in her hands.
“And, he will contact you to let you know that he will be operating in your city,” Silas continued, barely able to resist the urge to pace as he spoke. “He will do this as a courtesy to you, I’m told, in hopes of avoiding any entanglements with watchmen or inquisitors of Moras. He will likely not divulge much; however, much might be learned from scrutinizing the little bit he does offer. I ask that you simply inform me of each and every detail gleaned from what he says and does during that meeting, and in any other communications he has with you or your lieutenants. It would also be wise to avoid any set of circumstances that would indicate to him that we have the arrangement that exists between us.”
“And for this, I receive…”
“Continued prosperity with the promise of a very bright future.”
“That seems a bit vague,” Evalynne said, her attention returned fully to Silas and this negotiation.
“A dagger to match Queen’s Tongue, then,” Silas offered.
The excitement in Evalynne’s eyes was unmistakable. Silas had known she preferred the sword and dagger style of fencing and had hoped this enticement would be enough to secure her cooperation.
“How will you return here to learn of this assassin if he will be hunting you?”
“I will not, but an emissary will. The drow have moved rather freely throughout Moras remaining unnoticed thus far. It should be no trouble for one of their number to visit you from time to time. Of course, those visits would, by necessity, be unannounced and unbidden.”
Uriel-Ka opened his mouth to respond to such an outrageous suggestion. However, he held his tongue when Lady Evalynne raised a single finger and returned her gaze to her longsword.
“Agreed,” she said with a smile.
Chapter IV
Damaged Souls
They had avoided seven traps thus far, three spotted by Maloch, two others by Jonas, and the other two by Dunewell. According to Maloch, the drow had as much to fear from other covens of drow as anyone else in the outside world. Given that Maloch was leading Jonas and Dunewell into this coven for a punitive expedition, Dunewell had to agree with that notion.
