Elaine Cunningham - Honor Bound

"I didn't say anything. . aboutyour people. The boat, the fairy girl that took it. I swear it! ButDorn. . he pulled the Fox out of the water. Knows he's alive.They'll find Dorn. He's got no love for the adepts, but he won'tbleed. . to keep the thief's secrets."

Nimbolk sat back on his heels,surprised by this sudden outpouring. "You could have saved yourselfa beating if you'd told that to Volgo's men. Why tellme?"

"All Volgo's men can do is killme."

The fisherman slowly lifted one handand to his heart and with great effort traced a circle-a wardingagainst evil. He tried to say something more, but blood spilledfrom his mouth and ran in crimson streaks down his beard. A tremorran through him and he lay still.

Nimbolk rose, staring at the deadman in puzzlement. Perhaps these humans knew so little of elves andfairies that they thought them the same people?

The fisherman had been right aboutone thing, though. The harsh death he'd suffered at the hands ofVolgo's men was quicker and kinder than a fairy's mercy.

Nimbolk tipped his head back tostudy the cliff. It curved out over the sea, dropping off in asheer rock wall. The fortress overlooked the port-the onlydeepwater harbor on any of Sevrin's islands-but it also sprawledalong the crescent-shaped cliff. Toward the end of that curve stooda round tower, an ancient stone keep that reflected the light ofthe first evening star.

He walked along the base of thecliff until the incoming tide left him nowhere to go but up.According to the gossipy fisherfolk and their speculation about theFox's raid, climbing the rock wall was impossible. By the time themoon rose, Nimbolk was beginning to think they were more right thanwrong.

Hours passed before he rolled ontothe ledge and staggered to the base of the tower, shaking withfatigue.

No guards patrolled this part of thecliff and no lights shone in the windows placed high on the towerwalls. Nimbolk tried the door, but the locks on the iron grate heldfirm. Again, the only possible path was straight up.

From a distance, the tower mightlook perfectly smooth, but hundreds of years of sea wind and saltair had worn away at the thick walls. Finding handholds in therough stone took time, but it was not impossible.

Finally Nimbolk's hand closed on awindow sill. He pulled himself up and edged aside the unlatchedshutter.

His gaze swept the starlit room fordanger. Dozens of weapons hung on the walls or in cases, but noguards stood ready to wield them. After a moment, it struck Nimbolkthat the chamber was more like a shrine than an arsenal.

The stone walls had been plasteredand painted to resemble the trees surrounding a forest glen. Pottedplants added to the illusion, which was crude but clearlyheart-felt.

Nimbolk slipped into the room andmoved from one case to another. Most of the weapons wereelf-crafted, and those that were not were similar enough to foolthose who had no ear for the magic they held.

Another case held jewelry; yetanother, elaborately tooled leather bracers. Books filled a row ofshelves. To Nimbolk's surprise, some of them were filled withElfish runes.

Muldonny had amassed a remarkablecollection. Even more astonishing, it appeared that the adept'sintent was to honor elfin culture rather than plunder it. Placingthe treasure at the keep's highest point showed that the adept hadbeen familiar with elfin custom. Dwarves buried their wealth, whileelves kept things of value atop ancient trees and in the highesttowers of mountaintop keeps.

Nimbolk wondered if the adept hadunderstood why.

Stars sent vibrations into the nightsky. Elf-crafted items resonated with it, captured and magnifiedand stored it to be released later in a burst of speed or power ormagic. Starsong might be as constant as air, but on clear, brightnights an elf could feel it in his blood and bones.

An echoing melody came from the seabeyond. Nimbolk went to the window. In the open sea south of theisland, a whale breached and blew. Its eerie, plaintive songshimmered across the water. As Nimbolk watched, more whales joinedthe singer.

Only elves and whales could hearstarsong. Only whales could sing it back to the sky.

Watching the pod brought Nimbolkalmost as much pain as comfort. They had their shared song, andwhatever rituals they enacted in the ocean depths. He had only thehealing to be found in these stolen relics. It was almost a reliefwhen the whales sank beneath the waves.

He'd been away from his kind for toolong.

The old man huddled in the curtainedalcove in a corner of the adept's workshop, torn between exhaustionand exhilaration. The trip to Khronus had taken more strength thanhe could spare. Still, it had been good to leave Rhendish Manor.He'd haunted this place for so many years that some days he wasn'tentirely certain that he was not, in fact, a ghost.

But the trip had been well worth thestrain. Relying on another man's sorcery had taxed his pride, butwhat else could he do? His own magic was long gone.

The murmur of voices in the workroom grew louder. He leaned closer to listen.

"Are you quite certain you don'tknow the dwarf's whereabouts?"

The adept's voice was deep andpleasant, despite the serrated edge of irritation in hisquestion.

"I have told you that I do not," theelf said. "I left Muldonny's workroom moments before it exploded.That was the last I saw or heard from him."

"What part did he play in theattack?"

"He led the way up the oublietteshaft. They came in from the sea caves."

"Are there tunnels beyond thesecaves?"

"Yes, but I doubt anyone could findthem. The tunnel openings will be blocked and the stone walls willbe seamless. Dwarf masons do extraordinary work."

"How many dwarf masons are wetalking about?"

"Nine."

"That's all?" Rhendish soundedrelieved. "Did you find out why they were working with thethief?"

"Fox and the young dwarf werefriends. I don't know the how and why of that. The other dwarvesfollowed the youth."

"I see," he murmured. "And what doyou suppose they'll do now, assuming their leader isdead?"

"If they stay, they'll clear a fewold tunnels, eke out an existence. More likely they'll return tothe mainland."

"Did he tell you what broughtdwarves to Sevrin?"

"No."

"But you know, don't you?" the adeptpersisted. "I sense there's more to the tale."

The old man shiftedimpatiently. And I sense that both of youare stalling .

"Some years back, I heard rumors ofa scandal," the elf said. "A dwarf lord, king in all but name,rules the vales and mountains on the sunrise side of the forest. Hehas five sons. Another king sent his daughter to wed one of thelord's sons in an alliance between their two clans."

A bitter smile curved the old man'slips. Dwarves and elves took alliances very seriously. No one knewthis better than he.

"Making the match was put in thehands of the second-eldest son, who acted as the heir's steward.Apparently this dwarf had little talent for his role. The fifthbrother was loyal to the heir but considered the stewardunreliable. To prove to the heir that his steward lacked judgment,the youngest brother challenged him to a game of chance. When allwas said and done, the steward had gambled away the princess'sdowry."

"Among humans, this would mostlikely lead to war."

"Among dwarves, it leads tomarriage," the elf said with dry humor. "The princess Hedvigdeclared that since the dowry had changed hands, a match was made.She declared herself betrothed to Delgar, the youngestbrother.

"The steward convinced the heir thatthis was evidence of Delgar's ambition. The heir took the secondbrother's advice and sent Delgar away. Hedvig remains in theclanhold. Everyone involved wants her to wed the heir, but she'ssaid to be stubborn even by the measures of dwarves. She declaredher intention to wait out the exile."