Dan Parkinson - The Swordsheath Scroll

"And curiosity must run in your family," Hammerhand noted.

They passed between long rows of closed passages, lining both sides of the big, sky-lighted tunnel. Broad delv-ings beyond had once been a construction camp for Northgate and were now used as warehouses. Abruptly the tunnel opened out in all directions, and the path became a suspended bridge-a catwalk leading from end to end of a great cavern lined above and on both sides with small, dark openings.

Neither Hammerhand nor Calan Silvertoe more than glanced at the murderous ports and the vertiginous path as they strode out into the opening, but Luster heard whispers among the ten who followed: "So this is Anvil's Echo. I've heard about it." "I guess you have to see this to really believe it." "Look at those murder-holes! Do you suppose we're being watched from those things?"

On impulse, Luster said, over his shoulder, "There are probably a hundred watchers at those ports right now, maybe more. But don't worry. They're all Dunbarth Iron-thumb's people. Nobody gets into the defense lairs without his approval."

"It's a shame the rest of Thorbardin doesn't have the discipline of its defenses," Hammerhand muttered.

"The Hylar would agree with you on that score." Luster grinned. "You look like a Hylar, yourself. Are you?"

"I'm Hammerhand," the red-cloak rumbled. "Thaf s all I am, at least for now."

Unabashed, the young Daewar said, "Chane Lowen says you look like Colin Stonetooth."

"He probably does," Calan Silvertoe rasped, then went silent at a glance from his leader.

The catwalk ended, the sun-tunnel-lighted way began again, and the party marched between the waiting ranks of a hundred dwarven soldiers, standing at attention. As they passed, the guards fell in around and behind them, ringing them closely. With a suspicious glare at the soldiers, Tap Tolec muttered orders, and the Ten closed ranks around their leader and the two walking with him. Their frowns made it clear to the guards that they were to keep their distance from Hammerhand. Responding to their glares, some of the Thorbardin guards pressed closer, tauntingly. Then one of them yelped and backed off, stooping to rub his ankle.

"What happened?" one of his companions asked.

"One of these outsiders kicked me on the shin," the injured one snapped.

Hammerhand swung around, stopping the procession. He glanced at Tap Tolec, then from face to face of his other nine bodyguards. All of them shook their heads. "Nobody kicked your soldier," Hammerhand told Luster. "If any of them had, he'd be more than just bruised." Imperiously, he turned again and strode on, the double ring of escorts reforming around him.

Luster Redleather's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Your people look after you," he noted.

Hammerhand didn't respond, but Calan Silvertoe said, 'The Ten are the chosen of the Chosen Ones. Your soldiers would be well advised to treat them with respect."

"My soldiers-a hundred of Thorbardin's best?" Luster asked, grinning.

"If they're your best, then you don't want to lose them," Hammerhand said quietly. "If they crowd my people, what happens to them is their fault. The Ten don't like being crowded."

With a wave of his hand, Luster Redleather signaled his hundred, who eased away from the compact group of warriors, giving them respect and a bit more room. From somewhere on the left flank came an angry whisper: "One of them did kick me! I don't know who, but somebody did."

After a half-hour's walk, the big tunnel they were following-called the Second Road-bent sharply to the left, and carved runes in the stone wall said that Theibardin- first of the Theiwar cities-lay ahead. The Thorbardin guards had now formed a complete circle around the visitors, and marched with eyes alert and shields high. A hundred yards past the turn, several dozen shadowy figures suddenly darted from a side-delve, shouting a babble of taunts and insults. Several of them hurled stones at the approaching company. The leading Thorbardin guards deflected the stones casually with their shields and drew hand weapons. With more taunts and insults, the mob of attackers turned and ran, disappearing around a bend in the distance.

"Somebody doesn't like us here," Calan Silvertoe drawled.

"It isn't you," Luster Redleather assured his guests. "It's us. A lot of people here don't like the Home Guards. We've doubled the patrols since the last riots and spoiled a lot of people's fun."

"This is a riot zone?" Calan asked.

"Sometimes I think all of Thorbardin is a riot zone," Luster told him sadly. "Every city in the cavern has had trouble of one kind or another during the past few decades… except maybe the Hylar city. The Hylar don't usually get involved in the feuds. But everywhere else, there's always somebody ready to lead a gang against somebody else."

"What do they fight about?" one of the Ten asked.

"Anything and everything." Luster shrugged. "Who knows? My father says the darkest quality of dwarven nature is that we never forget a slight or forgive a grudge. And, of course, in Thorbardin we've had a lot of generations to accumulate grudges."

"And nothing better to do than feud?" Calan asked.

"For some among us, no. There isn't enough real work to keep everybody busy."

"There should be," Hammerhand muttered. "There would be, if Thorbardin hadn't forgotten why it's here."

Luster glanced at him, curious about the smoldering anger in the stranger's voice, an anger that seemed to deepen with every step into the cavern realm. "What does that mean?"

"That's what I came to talk to the council about," the red-cloak said, his brow furrowed and stormy beneath his polished helm.

The delves of Theibardin spread around them then, and they turned at a wide road that led to the central cavern of Thorbardin. Everywhere, dwarves by the hundreds turned out to watch them pass. Most of the dwarves here were Theiwar, identifiable by their smoke-brown hair and beards, and the wide shoulders and long arms that were characteristic of their clan. But many among them were obviously of mixed blood, with features that came from Daewar, Daergar, Hylar, or Klar lineage.

Generations of intermarriage among the thanes had in many ways strengthened the dwarves of Thorbardin. But it also had started its share of feuds.

Most of the people they passed seemed to harbor no hostility, only curiosity. But here and there they heard taunts and catcalls, and a few stones clanged off the shields of the Home Guards. Then a fist-sized stone from aside and above flew over the raised shield of a guard, straight at Hammerhand.

As casually as the Thorbardin guards had, he deflected the stone with his shield. But even as the missile clattered away, he sensed furious movement directly behind him and heard the unmistakable hum of a sling. He spun around in time to see a small hand dart out of the group, expertly unleashing a woven sling. Its stone whistled through the air, entered a shadowed, open second-level doorway, and a distinct thud was heard. A second later a dwarf staggered into sight there, clung to the doorway for an instant, blood flowing down his face, then toppled forward and fell to the pavement below.

With an oath, Hammerhand lunged and grabbed the small hand with the sling. The hand seemed to be connected to nothing, but as he grabbed it a pretty face appeared, turning toward him.

Swearing beneath his breath, Hammerhand gripped empty-seeming air beside the face and pulled away the emptiness. All around, Thorbardin guards gasped as a complete person was revealed-a startlingly pretty dwarf girl, who returned the red-cloak's angry glare with stubborn eyes and a set, determined chin. "You see?" she snapped at him. "It's a good thing I came along. That person tried to stone you."

Nearby, one of the guards knelt beside the fallen dwarf, then stood and shrugged. "He's dead," he called. "His head's cracked open."