Douglas Niles - The Heir of Kayolin

“Check the list,” said the first guard.

“And what’s your name?” another dwarf-at-arms demanded of Gretchan. “Are you a native of Kayolin also?”

“I’m Gretchan Pax, from Pax Tharkas,” she replied. “Just visiting here.”

“Bluestone!” snapped an unseen guard in the alcove who was presumably consulting the afore-mentioned list. “Take him! Lord Heelspur has his name down here!”

“What?” Brandon declared, starting to step back as two guards seized his arms. His gut wrenched in sudden panic. He had read about the League of Enforcers in the king’s proclamation, but he didn’t expect his own name to be on their lists. Reflexively he put his hand around the hilt of his axe.

“Oh, he’s not that Bluestone,” Gretchan said breezily. She laughed, a musical, trilling sound, and waved her staff gently before the faces of the sentries. The top of that shaft, the small anvil that was the symbol of Reorx, glowed slightly, and Brandon realized that she was casting one of her priestess spells.

“He’s the Bluestone you’ve been waiting for. Aren’t you glad he’s come home?” she asked sweetly.

“Oh, Bluestone!” said one of the guards, his face breaking into a broad smile. “Yes! Welcome back! It’s been too long!”

“Yeah, it’s great to see you!” said the first guard, releasing his arm to clap him on the back.

“Uh, yes. Sure. Thanks,” Brandon said as Gretchan took him by the arm. Kondike trotted along behind him as they swept out of the gateway and into a Kayolin that Brandon was not sure he would recognize.

Brandon led Gretchan by the hand into Kayolin, walking as briskly as he thought he could without attracting any undue attention. He was still shaken by the discovery that his name was on a list held by the guards at the gate.

The two passed the Gateway Brewery and its public room without entering that classic watering hole. Instead, Brandon followed the long entrance tunnel for perhaps a quarter of a mile then turned into one of the passages leading into the lower levels of the city of Garnet Thax. The route had at one time been a mine tunnel, but it had been widened and supported with the installation of stone archways every fifty feet or so. It was mostly empty; the few dwarves they met were miners bearing wheelbarrows, tools, and other objects from one work site to another.

The most direct route from the main gate of Kayolin into the city of Garnet Thax was a wide thoroughfare, a ramp lined with inns and plazas as well as numerous shops, leading directly into the main residential zones of the city, the midlevels. Spooked by the fact that his name was known, and that the Enforcers might be searching for him, Brandon elected to lead Gretchan on a more circuitous route into the city proper. They made their way into the deep-levels, a district of smelting and forging plants, passing along narrow, darkened streets, moving quickly amid the infrequent pedestrians in that industrial locale.

Kondike, who seemed completely comfortable in the underground setting, paced easily along behind them. The dog drew more interest from passersby than did the two dwarves.

“Those sentries-they wore black, not red,” Brandon noted. “They must be a new outfit. The Garnet Guards are well known for their scarlet tunics.”

“Have things changed very much otherwise-at least, that you can see?” Gretchan asked as they strode along past a row of smithy stalls, where the clang of hammers striking steel made a rhythmic cadence and created enough of a din that they could be certain they wouldn’t be overheard.

“It looks pretty much the same as before,” the Kayolin dwarf admitted. He gestured as they passed a large chamber, visible through a series of arched openings off of the road. Massive piles of coal filled one side of the room, while dwarves chopped with picks to reduce the fuel to small chunks and cart it into the interior of the factory. They could hear the sound of roaring furnaces and feel the waves of heat emanating as far as the passing tunnel. “I mean, work is getting done. From the look of those coal supplies, the foundries are as productive as ever-maybe more.”

“Why don’t we just go to your parents’ house?” his companion asked. “You’ll be able to learn a lot from them, I’m sure.”

Brandon nodded. “We’ll end up there, yes. But I don’t want to just march down the street and go in the front door. Who knows who might be watching? What if the League of Enforcers has a spy there … or if my father has already been arrested?”

She grimaced. “I didn’t think of that. You’re right to be careful. Then where are we going?”

“To a tavern I know. It’s called the Deepshelf Inn, and we’re not likely to bump into friends of the king there.”

They turned onto a wider road, one that curved gradually as they walked along. Sooty smiths pounded their hammers against red steel anvils in several shops to the left, and they passed another foundry where they could see red-hot metal being poured from a great bucket into a series of molds, sparks trailing from the liquid. The workers all wore heavy leather aprons, hoods, and gauntlets with slit faceplates to protect themselves from the searing heat.

Gretchan looked around wide-eyed and would have stopped to investigate if Brandon had let her. Instead, he continued to lead her along until they came to a wide cave mouth on the side of the road. The establishment’s name, Deepshelf Inn, was carved into the mantel above the entrance. From within came sounds of laughter and genial argument, as well as smells of roasting meat, burning tobacco, and yeasty beer.

They stepped through the door into the crowded interior. The entryway was fairly dark, but the rear of the room was much brighter. As they advanced, Gretchan saw that the inn’s great room ended in a broad, curved balcony that was open to the air on the far side. The vast space was illuminated from above by a diffuse glow that, while it wasn’t as bright as daylight, suggested the pale glow of sunset or dawn.

“It looks like a view of the outside world!” she exclaimed.

“That’s the Atrium,” Brandon explained. “It’s a shaft that runs up and down through the center of Garnet Thax. The palace stands at the very top. All of the city’s levels have a view of the Atrium at some point-I guess you could say it’s Kayolin’s most significant feature.”

“Like the Urkhan Sea in Thorbardin,” she suggested in a tone of wonder.

“Maybe,” he replied with a shrug. He’d never thought of it like that before; as a Kayolin dwarf, the Atrium was just another part of ordinary life.

“What’s at the bottom?” Gretchan asked.

“Nobody knows. The horax have their dens far down there, somewhere. Lower than that, you’d probably come to the middle of the world; if you look down there, you can see the faint glow of lava and even feel the heat.” That vista had never failed to impress him as a boy, first, then as an adult.

“Can we sit next to it?” she asked, as if reading his mind. At first he was reluctant because there seemed no place more likely for him to be noticed. The balcony at the outer rim of the inn was visible to observers on the various levels above. But since they were in the deep-levels, it would be hard to pick them out on the crowded terrace. In fact, it would be pleasant to sit near the Atrium. Gretchan’s questions made him feel fond of it.

They made their way between the crowded tables, past the bar, and finally found themselves on the balcony, with the Atrium yawning before them. Gretchan gave a little gasp of surprise and stepped right up to the low stone railing that prevented an accidental fall. After glancing around for any signs of overly curious dwarves-though the bar, including the balcony, was crowded, all the customers and servers seemed to be occupied with their own business-Brandon stepped up to join her.