Elaine Cunningham - Honor Among Thieves

“Mine are built for strength and durability, but yes,a few.”

Muldonny lifted one hand in a gesture Fox remembered.He plodded forward and reached for the samovar.

The metal hands were fully articulated, but withoutthe sensation of touch, Fox had no idea whether his grip wassecure. He gripped the vessel hard enough, in his estimation, tocrack the glass and dribble a bit of tea onto Avidan’s stolenfinery.

The samovar shattered, dumping the entire contents ofthe pot into Avidan’s lap. The alchemist jumped to his feet andpeeled off his sodden outer robe.

Rhendish smirked. “Well, it’s certainly obvious thatyou’ve built for strength .”

Avidan held up a hand to cut off Muldonny’sapologies. “We are none of us well served today by those in ouremploy. Perhaps you will permit me to return at another time?”

“Of course! I look forward to continuing ourdiscussion.”

The alchemist bowed to each adept in turn. “No doubtyour servant is dexterous enough to see me out.”

“That is not a risk I care to take.”

Muldonny reached for a bell. Three clockworkservants, identical to the form Fox wore, stomped into thegarden.

The adept pointed to one of the constructs. “You. SeeMaster Insa’amid to the gate. You two dispose of this andreturn to the garden.”

It took Fox a moment to realize that he was the itemslated for disposal.

He turned to run. Before he could take a single step,the two clockwork guards flanked him, closed metal hands around hisupper arms, and carried him out of the garden.

They marched him to the outer wall and tossed himover.

As the ground sped up to meet him, Fox hoped thatMuldonny’s claim of durability was more than an idle boast.

Stars sparkled in the sky over Stormwall Island whenFox awoke. He struggled for several moments to sit up before itoccurred to him to remove the metal shell.

One of the gloves had come loose during the fall. Foxshook it off and tossed it aside. It landed with a sharp clunk ofmetal on metal.

Starlight glimmered on piles of metal around him. Ittook a while for his befuddled mind to understand that he’d beentossed into a pit of defective or outdated clockwork creatures.

Fox flung the arm of another knight off his chest androlled away from the metallic corpses. He shed the armor andclimbed out of the pit as quickly as he would flee a massgrave.

That was foolishness, of course. These were machines.The pit might as well be filled with broken pottery.

An unnerving whimper came from one mangled form. Foxhad already started to turn back to help when he remembered thevoice belonged to a machine, not a comrade.

He squared his shoulders and strode off into thenight.

But he took with him the odd conviction that he wouldcarry the memory of this desertion for the rest of his days.

For the next several days, Delgar kept the dwarvesworking in shifts, chipping away at the solid stone between a seacave and the shaft Fox had discovered under Muldonny’sworkroom.

The elf, to her credit, worked as hard as any of thedwarves, carrying away baskets of rubble and refilling tankardsfaster than thirst could keep pace. In fact, she worked longerhours than anyone. She’d gotten a sword from Fox’s little armoryand spent the night shifts standing guard.

This puzzled Delgar. Elves might look delicate, butthey were known and feared for their bursts of speed or strength ormagic. They could unleash quick flashes of power like cloudsspewing forth lightning. This sort of sustained effort this elf exhibited struck Delgar as unnatural.

At the end of the sixth day of work, the elf lingeredafter the first team of dwarves had disappeared into the sea cave’shidden passages. Delgar always stayed to get the second shiftstarted and he insisted upon a short respite to rest the stone. Theconstant noise and vibration of excavation could stress stone inunexpected ways.

The elf waited until the day workers were well beyondhearing range.

“About the Thorn.”

Delgar folded his arms. “Here it comes.”

“I just want to make sure there are nomisunderstandings. The dagger must be returned to the forest.”

“And it will be.”

“Immediately,” the elf said. “Not decades later, notafter you’ve used its power to clear the tunnels and halls ofancient Cragslore.”

He placed one hand over his heart and affected awounded expression. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Of course it did not. It entered your mind andremained firmly in the center of it.”

The dwarf’s response fell midway between a laugh anda snort. “You’ve been around Fox for too long. Three more days, andyou’ll be making bad puns.” He picked up a lantern. “Come on. I’llwalk with you to the camp.”

She picked up her basket and fell into step with him.“There is too much power in the Thorn to permit its safe use onSevrin.”

Delgar’s jaw firmed. “I do not need an elf to schoolme in the structural integrity of a tunnel system. Why do you thinkI’m going to all this trouble to help you? I want the Thorn removedfrom Sevrin as much as you want to take it away.”

“That is good to hear. I have found, however, thatgluttons seldom eat moderately when presented with platters ofcakes.”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’m allmuscle.” He paused for a cocky smile. “If you don’t believe me, I’dbe happy to take off my shirt and flex.”

The elf sent him a withering glance. “The Thorn mustreturn to the forest. Do not test me on this.”

He was seriously contemplating a childish foray into“ Or what?” when a three-foot expanse of wing peeled free of thetunnel wall.

Honor’s sword leaped from its sheath before he couldreach for his miner’s pick.

She darted forward and swung her sword in a risingbackhand slash. The blade sliced through the snout of a creaturethat was half giant moth, half mosquito.

The elf ducked away from a splash of venom and seizedone of the creature’s wings. She spun once and flung it into thepath of a second moth. They went down in a tangle of wings andspindly limbs. The elf leaped on the struggling creatures andstomped several times.

They stood in silence for several moments,listening.

The distance sea murmured. Farther down the tunnel,water dripped from wet stone to fall with an echoing ping .Delgar was just started to breathe easily when he heard a paperyrustle.

The sound spread through the tunnels like fire on drygrass. A swift-growing whisper of many wings filled thedarkness.

“The lantern!” the elf snapped. “Put it down and moveaway.”

Delgar set down the lantern and fell back as a swarmof moths burst into the light.

Two of the moths came at him. He batted the first oneaway with the flat of his pickaxe and seized the other by thesnout. Furious wings buffeted him as the creature fought to getfree.

Suddenly Delgar found himself holding a disembodiedhead. He sent the elf an incredulous glance. She’d already spunaway and cut down two more moths.

He tossed aside the grisly thing and batted awayanother of the creatures. He looked around for the elf and foundher in the center of a storm of wings. Delgar hefted his axe andwaded in.

They worked together, the elf slicing flight from thedeadly creatures as she drew the slowly diminishing swarm away fromthe light, Delgar following to finish off the fallen monsters.

Finally the grim trail ended in a crumpled pile. Thelast of the creatures gave a fluttering twitch and lay still.

The elf sank down to the tunnel floor, her backagainst solid stone. Delgar kept standing, just in case more showedup.

“Deathwing moths,” Honor said in a conversationaltone. “Dwarf tomb guardians. Not the sort of thing I’d expect tofind in a Sevrin sea cave.”