The Silver Dwarf (Royal Institute of Magic, Book 4)

by Victor Kloss

  Ben stood there, feeling awkward. He was already starting to regret not pulling out.

  “Greenwood! Greenwood!”

  Three obnoxiously loud voices started chanting. Simon and his friends stepped in front of Ben. What they lacked in numbers, they made up in volume. Aaron’s group, at least a dozen of them, responded by stepping up to Simon. At the front was Jeff, an apprentice Ben strongly suspected was half-troll. He was at least six feet tall and almost as wide, with thick, curly hair and eyes that looked ready to pop out of their sockets.

  Jeff pushed Simon, who immediately went sprawling. He gave a peculiar cackle and swiped a tree-trunk arm at one of Simon’s friends. Ben cringed, but the blow never landed. William stepped in and caught the arm, muscle meeting chub. Jeff’s anger quickly disappeared when he saw who had blocked his blow.

  “Let’s all calm down, shall we?” William said with an easy smile. “This is supposed to be a nomination, not a mass brawl.”

  There was an uneasy silence, but Aaron’s group vastly outnumbered Ben’s, and they knew it.

  “Will is right,” Aaron said, stepping forwards. “This is supposed to be a civilised affair.” He turned to Simon, who had just got back to his feet and was still rubbing his backside. “Please accept my apologies. That was out of order and won’t happen again.”

  Aaron turned and left, his supporters chanting his name and filing out the door and into the hallway after him.

  “Thanks,” Ben said, turning to William.

  “No problem,” William replied with a smile. “I’ll be voting for you. Good luck.”

  Ben, Charlie and Natalie left and hurried down the staircase, heading for the exit before anyone else could grab Ben. Ben suddenly felt a little better about the election. Having William on his side was a major boost; he knew of several apprentices who would vote for him just because of William.

  “You really need to win, Ben,” Natalie said, as they left the Institute and started down the hill. “I don’t think I could take it if Aaron became Chief Three.”

  “I’ll do my best. Anyway, I can forget about that for now,” Ben said. He turned to Charlie. “How do we get to Drinkmorr?”

  “We need to go to London.”

  The foot traffic at this time of day was minimal, and it didn’t take long for Ben, Charlie and Natalie to board an empty carriage on the Dragonway. Ben had been on the Dragonway to London only once before, when he had taken his first-grade exam. It felt strange not getting off at Croydon, but continuing north. After another fifteen minutes, the dragon arrived in London.

  Despite having been here before, the station was still a sight to behold. The ceiling was impossibly high and had a faint curve, creating a dome-like effect. Thousands of twinkling lights shone down on a station that was both more modern and yet vastly older and grander than the Croydon one he was used to. Amid the smoke and roars from the dragons was the chatter of voices, hurried footsteps and the occasional whistle from the conductors. The majority of people were human, but there was a fair proportion of dwarves, elves and many smaller creatures whizzing about.

  Ben, Charlie and Natalie followed the sign directing them to London Victoria Underground station. With the threat of the dark elves, security was tighter than usual, and it took them a good fifteen minutes to get through border control. As Institute apprentices, they were allowed to keep their spellshooters, though the guards checked their spells carefully, before letting them past. They followed a torch-lit passageway, which led them all the way to the lift. Unlike the one in Croydon, this lift contained no seats. They travelled up from what seemed like the Earth’s core until the lift finally slowed and came to a gentle stop. With a ding, the doors opened, and everyone started filing out.

  Ben couldn’t help smiling. They were bang in the middle of the London Victoria Underground station, right near the escalators that went up to the main train station. Regular people passed the lift by without giving it a second glance.

  “We need to go to Old Church Town, on the Circle & District line,” Charlie said.

  They travelled westbound, past South Kensington and Gloucester Road, before arriving at their destination. The air had that typical London smell, and the roads were buzzing with black taxis and red buses. They hopped on a bus and travelled several stops, past the town centre, and into a quieter district, full of big red buildings and odd boutique shops.

  “This is us,” Charlie said.

  They hopped off the bus and started walking.

  “Are you sure about this?” Ben asked.

  Charlie was taking them through a series of narrow pathways that squeezed their way through large, red brick buildings, until the path ended at a bank that ran along a narrow river.

  “Here we are,” Charlie said, rubbing his hands.

  Natalie glanced about. “I don’t see anything resembling a portal.”

  “Well, you didn’t expect it to be easy, did you?” Charlie said with a grin. “This is the fun part – we have to find it. I know it’s around here somewhere, so don’t go far.”

  They split up and started searching. Ben immediately went to the edge of the bank, but the river didn’t hold any surprises. There were a couple of abandoned boats, and some fish in the murky water, but nothing else of interest. He turned his attention to the two buildings flanking them on either side. One was a fabrics factory. Ben poked his head inside and a receptionist looked up. He took a quick glance around, but saw nothing unusual. The other building looked more promising. It was an old abandoned warehouse. Ben managed to force open a creaky door, and all three of them searched it extensively, but their excitement upon entering soon dissipated when they found nothing. Eventually they returned outside, scratching their heads.

  “Could you be wrong about the location?” Natalie asked.

  “I could be,” Charlie admitted. “But I was sure I had the right place.”

  “You’re not normally wrong when it comes to directions,” Ben said.

  Natalie glanced down the lane. “I think we should extend our search a little, just to be sure. If we don’t find anything, we’ll come back.”

  They headed back the way they had come, walking slowly, eyeing every building they passed. The area was unusually quiet for London, and it seemed like an age before they crossed paths with anyone. A small, suited man with a briefcase hurried by, clearly in a rush. Ben gave him an absent smile and was surprised when he received a suspicious glance in return.

  “Well, I’m flummoxed,” Charlie said, rubbing his chin. He appeared quite pleased about it. “I know it’s here, but those dwarves are obviously rather good at hiding things.”

  “Could we be overlooking something obvious?” Natalie asked.

  Ben frowned. Natalie had a point: were they overlooking something obvious? For some peculiar reason, the man they had passed stuck in his head. Why had he looked at them suspiciously? Ben re-imagined the man in his mind. He was small, stocky…

  Ben stopped suddenly. “Dwarf!”

  He turned and sprinted back down the alleyway. They hadn’t walked far, and he whipped round a couple of bends, before coming back into view of the river and the bank. He made it just in time to see the dwarf disappearing into the side of the warehouse, right through the solid brick wall. Ben dashed to the wall, and started feeling and pushing.

  “He went right through here,” Ben said, hands still dancing around the wall as Charlie and Natalie arrived on the scene.

  “Step back,” Charlie said. “You won’t find anything like that.”

  Reluctantly Ben stepped away, joining Charlie and Natalie as they stared at the side of the brick warehouse.

  “Dwarves are exceptional craftsmen,” Charlie said. “People often say their doors are magic, but they are just well concealed.”

  Natalie stepped forwards, and trailed her hand along the mortar that held the brick in place. “They must be really good, because I can’t see a thing.”


  “It’s there,” Charlie insisted with that smile he often got when faced with a challenge.

  They spent a good fifteen minutes inspecting the wall, beating it with frustration and going cross-eyed staring at it.

  “There!” Natalie said with an excited yelp. She trailed her hand along the mortar, forming a peculiarly shaped door.

  “Are you sure?” Ben asked doubtfully.

  But even as he spoke, the outline of the door Natalie had spotted seemed to solidify and somehow form into an ordinary rectangular door, like some sort of magician’s trick. Ben stared, concerned that if he looked away, the door would vanish.

  Natalie’s hand went to a perfectly camouflaged door handle. Ben held his breath as she eased the handle down. There was a soft click, and Natalie pushed the door open. Ben gave an excited grin as they stepped through, and entered Drinkmorr.

  — Chapter Thirty-Two —

  Good Food and Heated Meetings

  It felt as though they were stepping into a fairytale. In front of them was a cobbled street, coloured in every shade of blue. On either side were perfect, gingerbread-style houses, complete with arched roofs and smoking chimneys.

  The silky smooth smell of chocolate filled the air, making inhaling an absolute pleasure. Every shop on the blue, cobbled street was a chocolatier. The shop windows were full of chocolate-shaped animals and figures of every kind, including a life-sized horse. They were carved with such intricacy and craftsmanship that Ben almost thought they were real. Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of children running about, staring at the shop windows and trying to force their parents into the stores. Though most of them were dwarves, there were plenty of humans and even some elf children about.

  “You’re both drooling,” Natalie said.

  “Can you blame us?” Ben said, wiping his chin.

  “I’ve always wanted to come here, since I first read about Drinkmorr,” Charlie said. He pointed to a road sign, which said Chocolate Street. “Dwarves are famous for three things – armour, drink, and chocolate.”

  They walked slowly, taking in the sights and smells. Ben almost stopped on several occasions to buy something, but he couldn’t afford anything larger than a chocolate mouse. It was with some disappointment that they reached the end of the street, and found themselves at a crossroads. In each direction, the cobbled stones were a different colour. Each street was perfectly straight, creating a grid system Ben had previously seen only in parts of America.

  “Which way?” Ben asked.

  Charlie shrugged. “No idea.”

  “No idea? I thought you knew where we were going.”

  “What gave you that idea? Elander said his son lived in Drinkmorr, but he didn’t know where.”

  Ben ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “So what do we do? Wander round hoping that we stumble upon him?”

  Natalie touched both their shoulders. “Let’s both take deep breaths. There has to be a better solution than just walking around randomly trying to run into someone we don’t even know.”

  “Yes, I was going to get to that, before Ben leapt at me,” Charlie said, giving Ben the eye. “There are information booths. Dwarves love selling things, information included. I say we go round and see if any of them have heard of Krobeg.”

  “That sounds expensive,” Ben said doubtfully.

  “Not really, because you only pay if they have an answer.” He gave Ben another pointed look. “If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

  And so they began their search for an information booth. Drinkmorr was not large, and Ben could just about make out the town walls surrounding it in the distance. Nevertheless, searching for an information booth was harder than they expected, simply because they were constantly distracted. Sometimes it was the shops; other times it was the architecture – there were statues that were so good Ben kept thinking they might come to life. Without meaning to, they veered towards the centre of the town, where the small cottage-like buildings turned into something a little grander, and the foot traffic became more substantial.

  “There,” Natalie said, pointing directly ahead. Ben tore his gaze away from a dazzling armoury. Directly ahead of them was a small hexagonal building, which said “Drinkmorr Information Centre”.

  “That looks like a good place to start,” Ben said.

  He turned to Charlie, but he wasn’t there.

  Ben stopped, and turned.

  Charlie was standing some ten paces back, staring at a building. Ben only had to look at the expression on Charlie’s face to know it was important. It was a tavern, quite popular by the looks of it, with its doors constantly swinging open to let people in and out. Ben stared at the tavern sign and his stomach did a somersault.

  The symbol next to the Royal Goose was an exact match of the Silver Dwarf’s family crest.

  “Oh my goodness,” Natalie whispered. She had materialised next to Ben, and had her hand over her mouth. “Do you think…?”

  “That the owner could be Krobeg?” Ben finished. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  Ben, Charlie and Natalie followed a couple of dwarves into the tavern. Ben’s eyes adjusted to the dim light as they stepped inside. Other than the natural light coming in from the small windows, there was nothing but dozens of flickering candles to illuminate the place. To say it was busy was an understatement. The bar was packed, mainly with dwarves, and there wasn’t a table in the eating area to be had. Servers danced expertly between the tables, holding platters filled with drinks and food. Ben caught a sniff of a passing roast pork, and immediately understood why the place was so busy. He wiped the saliva threatening to make its way down his chin and tapped a passing waitress on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me, we’re looking for a dwarf named Krobeg. Does he work here?”

  The waitress gave him a slightly confused smile. “Of course, sir. He’s the owner, but you won’t be able to catch him until after lunch, as he’s busy in the kitchen.”

  She dashed off, before Ben could ask anything more.

  “Should we come back?” Natalie asked. She looked uncomfortable in the stuffy tavern, and being at such close quarters with so many boisterous dwarves.

  “Why don’t we get a bite to eat?” Charlie said, eyeing up a passing rack of ribs. “We might as well have lunch while we wait.”

  Natalie wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but Charlie seemed oblivious to her sentiments, and as soon as an empty table became available, he darted towards it. The food, as it turned out, was as good as it looked, and in short order they were rubbing their stomachs contentedly. When the majority of the tables had cleared out, and the bar started to empty, they turned their attention to the kitchen door, where the waiters had constantly filed in and out.

  “Do you think we’ll recognise Krobeg?” Natalie asked.

  Ben nodded. “We will if he’s anything like his dad.”

  The first person to emerge was a skinny elf, who they immediately dismissed. The second and third were dwarves, but neither looked anything like the dwarf mage.

  The fourth was right on the money.

  A large dwarf with a neat, ginger beard emerged from the kitchen. Ben’s eyes immediately went to his stomach – it was absolutely huge, as if someone had shoved a beach ball down his shirt. Somehow he still managed to fit an apron around it.

  “Good takings, Mary?” the dwarf asked, wiping his hands on his apron. He had a friendly manner and sparkling, brown eyes.

  “Really good, a record for a Thursday afternoon, in fact.”

  Ben watched the dwarf talk to the waitress. Other than the ginger hair, his whole demeanour was a world away from Elander’s. He was jovial, jolly almost, compared to Elander’s stern, serious character.

  “Could that really be him?” Natalie whispered.

  Charlie was also scrutinising the dwarf, though not quite as inconspicuously as Ben and Natalie. “It makes sense. Remember what
Elander said? Now we know why he didn’t want to burden his son with the whole Guardian thing. He’s not exactly Guardian material.”

  Ben was still pondering the matter when the serving lady pointed them out to Krobeg, and he ambled over to them.

  “Good afternoon, lads and lady,” the dwarf said with a friendly smile. He was holding a large mug filled with ale. “Mary says you wanted to speak to me?” He gave a friendly wink. “I warn you, my recipes are off limits. They are top secret – I’ve worked for years refining them. Did you try the braised lamb by the way?”

  “I did,” Charlie said, connecting a finger with his thumb to make an “O” shape. “It was superb.”

  Ben wasn’t often thrown off guard, but this was one of those rare occasions. He had prepared for a multitude of eventualities, but having the Guardian be a fat, soft-looking chef wasn’t one of them.

  “Are you the Krobeg Farseeker everyone talks about?” Ben asked. After all, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure they had the right dwarf.

  If the question was an odd one, the dwarf didn’t show it, simply smiling with appreciation. “I am indeed. I hadn’t noticed how far my reputation went. You’re not from the Unseen Kingdoms, are you.”

  “How can you tell?” Charlie asked.

  Krobeg shrugged, and took a substantial sip of his ale. “It’s the little things – the way you walk, the way you dress, that foreign air about you.”

  Ben glanced casually around the room. There were still a few punters about, though the tavern was far emptier than before.

  “We have something we would like to talk to you about,” Ben said, putting on a serious face. “However, it’s of a sensitive nature. Could we go somewhere private?”

  “Of course,” Krobeg said, looking surprised, and just a little wary. “Come with me, we’ll go to the staff meeting room.”

  They followed Krobeg through a door marked “private”, and into a small hallway, lined with several doors. Krobeg opened one and bid the three of them enter, before following in behind. The room was small, with a well-worn table surrounded by several chairs.