The Brazen City

by Torsten Weitze

  ‘Spies could have told you that’, he grunted irritably.

  Windita reacted even before Ahren and tapped the table with her finger. ‘Tut, tut, my old friend. Now you’re simply being stubborn. I think the Triumvirate can now accept Ahren’s claim to being the Thirteenth Paladin of the gods.’ She looked left and right, and Palustra nodded and smiled at the apprentice. Trogadon was speaking insistently in the rumbling Dwarfish tongue to Xobutumbur, before the Elder bowed his head slightly, first to the warrior, and then to Ahren.

  ‘Well at last we’re making progress’, said Uldini loudly, and made a hand gesture which caused a chair to slide into position, which he promptly sat down on, the others following suit.

  ‘What did you say to the Clan Elder?’ whispered Ahren to Trogadon while the chairs were being moved into position.

  ‘Just that I’ll vouch for you, and if he wasn’t happy with that, we could have a good old-fashioned ritual fist-fight. He rather likes his teeth, which is why he agreed with the others, I think’, he murmured with a grin.

  Ahren pressed the dwarf’s powerful upper arm in thanks and then turned his attention to the negotiations that were about to begin.

  It was late at night and everyone was dog-tired. The Triumvirate had slowly but surely acceded to most of Uldini’s demands, which involved returning to the status quo before the siege. But there was one sticking point preventing final agreement. Windita and the others insisted on their right to sell weapons and arms in other markets and they argued that it would be an advantage in the preparations for the war against the Adversary if more weapons made from Dwarf Steel found their way into the hands of the Jorath peoples. Uldini blocked this move however, knowing full well that Justinian would never agree to it for fear of the Eternal Empire gaining access to these weapons. This would result in the Sunplains losing an important advantage they had in their war against Quin-Wa.

  Ahren and Khara sat there in silence, unable to contribute anything to the detailed discussions while the others sought a way out of the impasse. Ahren tried very hard to follow proceedings, but his lack of involvement eventually led to him losing concentration and focussing instead on keeping his eyes open.

  Suddenly he felt Khara’s elbow digging into his ribs as she tried to ensure he stayed awake. She glared at him. ‘You’re a Paladin here, so behave like one’, she hissed severely.

  ‘I’ve no idea what I’m supposed to say. And to be honest I’m on their side. It makes perfect sense to me to arm as many people as possible with Dwarf Steel weapons’, he whispered back quietly.

  ‘Then find a way of implementing it’, whispered the swordswoman casually. ‘Maybe there’s a less obvious way.’

  Ahren could see in her eyes that she had no idea of how he was to put this into effect either, but in contrast to him, it wasn’t her responsibility. She looked at him quizzically and he racked his overtired brain in search of a solution.

  Ahren stood up with an apologetic bow towards the Triumvirate and did some stretches in a corner of the room, trying to re-energise his body and to clear his mind. Unfortunately, he still wasn’t able to achieve the Void, so he had to manage without the spiritual clarity of the trance-like state. It was his mental connection with the wolf that was still preventing him from experiencing the condition again, even when Culhen was fast asleep, as he was now. Ahren did a few more stretches, and then decided to imitate Falk, who had hung his weapon and shield on the arms of his chair to make sitting more comfortable. Slowly and carefully he took off his bow and quiver, and then Wind Blade. He was about to hang the weapon up when Windita interrupted Uldini in mid-flow, as the Arch Wizard was making another long-winded attempt at persuading them of his point of view.

  ‘Apologies, worthy Paladin, but may I look at your weapon for a moment?’ she asked excitedly.

  It took Ahren a moment to realise in his weariness that it was him she was addressing so politely and not Falk. Part of him was delighted at the respect Windita had shown him. He passed Wind Blade across the table to her.

  ‘I’m not sure this is the opportune moment for something like this...’ began Uldini, who was piqued by the interruption, but Jelninolan stopped him from continuing, when she noticed the expression on the blond woman’s face as she bent over Wind Blade’s handle to examine it.

  ‘Where did you get this weapon?’ she asked Ahren excitedly.

  ‘From an armourer in Three Rivers’, he replied vaguely, and looked helplessly over at Falk, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Do you know what that is?’ demanded the blond woman, who was wearing the leather apron of the blacksmiths’ guild, as she tapped on the design on top of the handle.

  Ahren shook his head in reply and hoped that Windita would carry on speaking and he would find out what was so special about it.

  ‘This is the insignia of the House of Regelsten’, she said, her eyes fixed firmly on Ahren. ‘How did you get this weapon if you didn’t purchase it here?’

  ‘I got it from Falagarda Regelsten. She gave it to me as a gift when I was travelling through Three Rivers, and she taught me the basic techniques.’ His voice resonated with warmth as he remembered back to that time, for he owed a lot to the friendship and assistance she had given him.

  ‘Falagarda is in Three Rivers?’ repeated Windita in disbelief, and she blinked. This information was clearly new to her, and Ahren wasn’t sure at first if the blond woman took it to be good or bad news. The other two members of the Triumvirate looked similarly shocked, and it was impossible to figure out what they were thinking either.

  Windita pressed the blade to her breast and only now became aware of the visitors’ questioning looks. ‘Falagarda is a cousin of mine’, she said hoarsely. ‘We grew up together and were very close until an accident occurred.’ Her voice became quieter. ‘A man died and Falagarda was blamed for it although she couldn’t have prevented it. We had to banish her in order to maintain peace. I didn’t know until now that she was still alive.’ She looked at Ahren warmly. ‘You say she is a blacksmith in Three Rivers?’

  Ahren nodded, relieved that he hadn’t somehow caused a scandal, and he began to speak candidly. ‘She seems to be doing very well and she was very friendly towards me. I was able to repay the favour in the autumn of last year when I suggested she might be a trading partner to the dwarves of the Silver Cliff.’ He laughed nervously as he added: ‘Well at least one Regelsten will be able to continue selling weapons made from Dwarf Steel.’

  The room went deathly silent and Ahren broke into a sweat as he thought in a panic that he must have put his foot in it. Windita and Uldini were staring at each other across the table and seemed to be involved in some kind of mental duel. The apprentice held his breath and noticed that Windita was gripping the weapon so hard her knuckles were completely white. It suddenly struck the young Forest Guardian that he was practically unarmed, and he looked over pleadingly to Khara, who gave him the tiniest of nods and slowly began to loosen Wind Blade.

  Then Xobutumbur leaped up and ran from the room cursing furiously in Dwarfish while Palustra started speaking agitatedly to Windita in the language of the Sunplains. The blond woman gave an almost imperceptible nod while Falk whispered urgently to Jelninolan and Trogadon.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Ahren quietly, but everyone ignored him. He moved closer to Khara, and for the moment it didn’t bother him if everybody thought he was looking for her protection by hiding behind the young woman. ‘Do you know what’s going on here?’ he whispered to her, keeping an eye on everyone at the same time. It looked at least as if nobody was angry with him anymore, but he wasn’t sure if his tired joke hadn’t provoked something dangerous.

  Khara shrugged her shoulders but said nothing, her hand gripping her weapon and her body ready for action.

  Then Xobutumbur came back, and in his powerful hands was an old leather scroll, whose musty smell permeated the room. The dwarf rolled it out very carefully on the table and everybody leaned over it. Ahren and
Khara would also have liked to see what was being looked at, but the wall of bodies prevented them.

  Suddenly Palustra let out a cry of triumph, causing Ahren to flinch backwards, and she pointed at a passage in the document. A heartbeat later and cries of joy came from the conference table. Ahren felt an invisible power grasping him by the shoulders and pulling him forward. It was Uldini who had magically drawn the apprentice towards him, and in a completely untypical gesture the Arch Wizard planted two smackers on his cheeks. ‘May you be twice blessed, you numbskull!’ he cried out. ‘Maybe not your head, but certainly your heart!’

  He pulled the flabbergasted youth towards him, while the others gave him congratulatory slaps on the back. Ahren suddenly remembered back to the similar reaction he had encountered when he had quite inadvertently saved the Voice of the Forest – and he was just as baffled now as had been then.

  Ahren gave a puzzled look, as did Khara, and so Uldini decided to clarify the situation for them. ‘Whenever we sign a peace treaty, the original text from the old agreement is kept intact as much as possible, also the passage that guaranteed that dwarf weapons could only be sold in the Brazen City as per the contracts of the time between Thousand Halls and the resident Regelstens. But now that we are about to seal a new contract, the trade agreements between the dwarves and the Regelsten family which existed before the completion of the contract, and which are written in the passage, are still valid. Or, to put it more clearly: the agreement between the dwarves of the Silver Cliff and Falagarda Regelsten of Three Rivers.’ The dwarf hugged the baffled young man again before continuing. ‘Don’t you understand? Falagarda has an agreement with the dwarves, she’s a Regelsten and she lives in Three Rivers. If my Emperor signs this, the Brazen City will be well within its rights to do business with the rest of the world through Falagarda of Three Rivers.’

  Falk smiled wickedly. ‘He won’t be very happy about that, but having alright broken one agreement through treachery, he’s hardly doing to try to undermine the new agreement. And Three Rivers will become the most powerful trading city in the north.’

  Ahren’s face slowly broke into a smile as he began to understand how this chain of events, beginning with his innocent visit to the good armourer’s shop, would result in two cities flourishing. Even if he didn’t understand all the details, the others seemed convinced that they would finally reach an agreement which would be beneficial to all parties and would guarantee the Blue Cohorts’ freedom.

  But despite the joyful atmosphere in the room, Ahren couldn’t help thinking of Bergen’s fate. The Paladin, as decreed by the will of the Sun Emperor, would spend his days in prison until the onset of the Dark Days, and this seemed to the young man to be an outrageous miscarriage of justice. But he had to admit to himself that he couldn’t see any way of righting the wrong. Justinian seemed to possess such overwhelming authority that he couldn’t see any way he would be able to change the Emperor’s mind.

  ‘Stop moping, lad!’ cried Trogadon and slapped him hard on the back. ‘Today we’ve reached a peace deal without shedding one drop of blood. That’s something you can be proud of.’

  Ahren sighed and turned to look at the dwarf. ‘You’ve forgotten the dead from the last few days and nights. How many people were ambushed? How many have starved to death?’

  Falk looked at Ahren in annoyance. ‘You’re working yourself up too much. Everything you’ve described was already happening before we arrived. But we’ve put an end to it. The last reserves of corn will already be handed out tonight so that nobody else need starve, and as soon as Bergen has signed the contract tomorrow at noon, we’ll ride to the Emperor and this nightmare will finally be over.’

  Everyone nodded, and even Xobutumbur seemed satisfied. Ahren thought it best to leave it at that, and suppressed a yawn. Suddenly, now that he was no longer being carried along on the wings of all this feverish excitement, he felt terribly tired. He leaned heavily on the back of the chair, and Falk looked at him understandingly.

  ‘Will you all be alright on your own?’ the old Forest Guardian asked Uldini and indicated towards Ahren. The Arch Wizard gave an understanding nod, and Falk invited the young Paladin to follow him. ‘Anyone who has no good ideas to offer is better off coming with me and getting some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be another long day and we don’t want to have you snoring during the treaty signing.’

  Ahren, Khara and Trogadon were all happy to take up his offer, and they headed back up the stairs to their sleeping quarters. Culhen followed them a moment later, and when they arrived at the room, everybody was too tired to speak. Ahren was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he dreamed of massive spiders’ webs, which interweaved the past, the present and the future. He had to travel along the webs, keeping his balance as he was chased by a dark, misshapen shadow. And he knew that one false move on his part would change the fate of whole empires forever.

  Ahren’s eyelids were stuck closed when he heard the furious hammering on the door. ‘Wake up, lad!’ shouted his master, and the apprentice finally managed to open his eyes. He could just about make Falk out, struggling into his armour, while Trogadon was opening the door and telling the distraught servant that they would be down very shortly.

  Ahren was able to manage no more than a questioning grunt as he sat up. A quick look out the open window suggested that it was at least another two hourglasses until dawn.

  ‘There’s trouble’, said Falk curtly, and Ahren gave a resigned nod. He stood up slowly and promised himself that he would sleep for a week as soon as this crisis was over. Luckily, he had been too tired to undress, and so he simply strapped on his weapon and then went to the window to breathe in the cool night breeze and wake up fully from the land of dreams.

  Khara came out of the neighbouring room, armed and ready. She was fully alert and fixing her hair with her blade brooch. Ahren couldn’t believe she was so ready for battle already.

  He cleared his throat and breathed in more of the cold mountain air. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  Falk shrugged his shoulders. ‘Uldini has asked us to go downstairs, and in full military gear. Which means there must be complications.’

  Trogadon had turned to face them in the meantime and was making smacking noises with his lips and making grotesque facial gestures in an effort to limber up his face. ‘He’s hardly created trouble with the Triumvirate, has he?’ he finally asked in a concerned voice.

  Falk thought for a moment before shaking his head. ‘Jelninolan is with him. She would have stopped him.’

  ‘Then it has to be something else’, said Ahren queasily.

  ‘Maybe pillagers, who haven’t heard about the peace agreement?’ suggested Khara.

  ‘Guessing will get us nowhere’, said Falk with a groan as he put on his shoulder pieces. The leather straps were still hanging loosely on him as he hadn’t fastened the armour plates tightly yet, which were making clattering sounds on his body. ‘Follow me! We’ll know more soon.’ Ahren trotted behind Falk and the others, one hand on Culhen, who was yawning beside him.

  The door to the meeting room was open and Ahren could hear concerned voices discussing something in low tones. The group increased their speed and a dark premonition chased the tiredness out of their bones.

  They entered the room and saw Windita and Palustra, who were sitting together with Uldini and Jelninolan. There was no sign of Xobutumbur.

  Uldini pointed to the dwarf’s empty chair. ‘He’s late’, he said bluntly. ‘A dwarf messenger came a while ago with an urgent message and then Xobutumbur stormed out of the room. He shouted that he’d be back soon and just had to arrest a few idiots, but there’s been no sign of him since.’

  ‘We are forbidden from entering the halls of the Brazen Clan so we can’t find out what’s going on and the guards keep fobbing us off by telling us it’s an internal Clan matter’, explained Palustra sadly.

  ‘We thought you might be able to look’, said Windita, turning to Trogadon. ‘You should
be able to get past the guards, and as the bearer of an Ancestry Name, they ought to allow you to bring your friends with you.’

  The warrior nodded calmly. ‘One Clan Elder coming up!’ he said jokingly, but then became serious. ‘Why should we all go down there?’ he probed.

  ‘Because there’s a Doppler in the Clan Vaults’, said Jelninolan darkly. ‘I’ve been wanting to keep an eye on him since we’ve all been together, and I spun a charm net. He’s beneath us in the Hall of the Dwarves.’ She frowned sadly. ‘Unfortunately, he’s sensed me. He knows that I know where he is.’

  Uldini pointed to a long, vellum roll, freshly written on, lying on the table. ‘The two ladies and I will continue working on the peace treaty. You lot and Jelninolan bring Xobutumbur here and neutralise the Doppelganger if possible.’ He looked at them intensely. ‘He’s made a mistake and is sitting in a trap now. If Jelninolan seals the door behind you, he will not be able to escape.’

  Ahren and Khara finished tightening the last few straps on Falk’s armour, and he nodded grimly. ‘It will be a good day if we manage to catch one of those dirty swine.’

  Trogadon was already standing at the door, hopping from one foot to the other. ‘We’d better hurry. My folk don’t understand treachery. If he’s slipped in disguised as a dwarf, everyone is going to take him at this word.’

  Ahren swallowed hard. ‘Did you not talk yesterday of a messenger from Thousand Halls?’

  Falk cursed and strode towards the door. ‘Who told them they had the support of the Dwarfish kingdom. That must have been the Doppler bringing false news to rile up the dwarves of the Brazen Clan’

  ‘Hurry!’ cried Uldini after them. ‘Who knows what other damage he’s causing!’

  They ran out into the night and towards the broad stairs that lay there in the darkness of the market place, and that led down to the enormous gate to the Clan Halls, looking like a portal leading into the underworld. Quickly but carefully they descended the steps, Trogadon in front, who was saying something in the rumbling tongue of the little folk to the suspicious looking guards. He received a grumpy answer in reply, after which he pulled his large hammer from behind his back and slammed it thunderously down on the ground. Ahren almost expected mortar to crumble and rain down from the archway, but the only reaction was a rumbling laugh from the guards. They opened the heavy gate a little, and Trogadon and the others slipped through the gap. Hardly were they inside the dimly lit reception hall when Jelninolan spun around and quickly cast a spell on the portal.