About six of the dwarves started talking so fast it was hard to tell whether they were all speaking at the same time or whether they went one after another.
"Of course there are a lot of people who want it!"
"Particularly wizards."
"It's the King's sword, isn't it?"
"Maybe it isn't; he hasn't said."
"It has to be the King's sword, silly. There aren't any other swords that the earth obeys."
"What about Delvan's blade?"
"That's not a sword, it's an ax."
"And the earth doesn't obey it, it just shakes a lot."
"So this has to be the King's sword."
"Wait a minute!" I said. "What do you know about my sword?"
"It's the King's sword," one of the dwarves said indignantly. Another dwarf shushed him, and a dwarf near the front of the crowd stepped forward and bowed.
"We follow the sword," she said, as if it explained everything.
The other dwarves all smiled and nodded. I sighed and gave up. Either none of them really knew anything else, or they knew and weren't going to tell me, and I didn't think it mattered much which it was. "If you aren't going to tell me about my sword, could one of you do something about Shiara's arm?" I asked. "And after that, we'll be going."
"Going where?" the dragon said.
Some of the dwarves jumped. Evidently they'd forgotten the dragon was behind them. I was surprised; if a dragon were standing behind me, I certainly wouldn't forget it was there.
"We have to find another way out of the Caves of Chance," I told the dragon. "I don't really think we can dig through this one."
"That will not be necessary," said the dwarf closest to me. "Had we known you were the Bearer of the Sword, we would not have objected to your request."
"Not at all," said the dwarf next to him. She turned and waved at the others. "Lord Daystar requires this tunnel cleared. Begin"
I stood and stared while the dwarves all grabbed their picks and shovels and things and started toward the rocks that were blocking the tunnel. In a few minutes they were all digging furiously-except for one, who came over to Shiara and bowed.
"I am Darlbrin," he announced.
"That's nice," Shiara said sarcastically. I sighed, but I didn't say anything.
You can't really expect a fire-witch with a broken arm to be particularly polite.
Darlbrin didn't seem to notice. "I have some skill at mending things," he said, and bowed again. "If you will permit it, I would like to examine your arm." He looked at Shiara a shade anxiously and added, "To see if I can mend it."
Shiara rolled her eyes, but she walked over to the edge of the tunnel and sat down so the dwarf could see better. Nightwitch followed, alternately purring reassuringly and meowing anxiously.
I watched for a minute or two, then turned away. I couldn't do anything to help, and I wanted to think.
I didn't get the chance. As soon as I turned, the dragon stuck its head over a couple of dwarves and said, "I didn't know you were a lord.
Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I'm not a lord!" I said. I think I sounded a little desperate, and I know I felt desperate. I didn't have the slightest idea what was going on, except that it had something to do with my sword. Everything seemed to have something to do with my sword. I was getting tired of it, and more than a little worried.
"Well, if you aren't a lord, why did they call you one?"
"Because he has the King's sword," said a dwarf who was walking under the dragon's chin with a boulder more than half as big as he was. The dragon pulled its head back far enough to eye the dwarf, who ignored it and kept walking.
"I really wish you'd explain a little more," I yelled after the dwarf, and then I thought of something. "Why did you call me the Bearer of the Sword?"
"I didn't call you anything," the dwarf said without stopping. "That was Cottlestone." He set the boulder down and headed back toward the pile of rocks, which was beginning to look smaller already.
"Excuse me," I said loudly, in the general direction of the crowd of dwarves, "but would one of you tell me which of you is Cottlestone? I'd like to talk to him; please."
"Cottlestone!" shouted half a dozen voices.
For a minute I thought the roof was going to cave in again, but all that actually happened was that one of the dwarves stepped out of the crowd and bowed to me. He looked as if he really meant it, not as if he were just being polite.
"Don't do that," I said.
"As you wish," the dwarf said, bowing again. "What do you want to know from me?"
"Why did you call me the Bearer of the Sword?"
Cottlestone looked surprised. "It's obvious. When the Bearer of the Sword holds the King's sword, the earth obeys it. So when you held up the sword and the earth obeyed, we knew you were the Bearer of the Sword."
"Oh." I thought for a moment. "Have you ever heard of the Holder of the Sword? Or the Wielder of the Sword?"
"Who?"
"Never mind," I said. "How does someone get to be the Bearer of the Sword?"
"No one knows," Cottlestone said, looking at me curiously.
"Oh," I said again. I was trying to think of something else to ask when there was a shout from the top of the caved-in section of the tunnel. Cottlestone bowed again. "If you will excuse me, I think they've gotten through to the other side. I ought to go help. It's my job."
"All right," I said uncomfortably. Cottlestone turned away, and I watched him melt into the crowd of dwarves. I wasn't sure what I'd found out, except that I didn't like people bowing to me. I found myself hoping that the rest of the dwarves wouldn't imitate Cottlestone.
"Did he say they're almost finished?" asked Shiara from behind me.
"Wonderful! I can't wait to get out of here."
I turned. Shiara was standing, holding Nightwitch in the crook of her left arm. Her right arm was covered from her fingers almost to her shoulder in something smooth and gray and shiny. She looked a little white, but that might have been the torch light. "Well, what are you staring at?" she demanded.
"I wasn't staring," I said. "I was just checking to see if you were all right."
Darlbrin stepped up beside Shiara and bowed. "Not quite all right.
But not bad, not bad at all."
"I wouldn't call a broken arm 'not bad,'" Shiara said sourly.
"Oh, I didn't mean that!" Darlbrin said hastily. "I was referring to the mending."
"I'm sure you did a very good job," I told him. "And I really appreciate it."
"I suppose I do, too," Shiara mumbled. "Thanks."
"It isn't really mended yet, you know," Darlbrin said with a touch of anxiety. "People aren't as easy to fix as ax handles. It'll be a month before you can take the sheath off."
"Yes, I know. I've had a broken arm before." Shiara scowled at the sheath.
"Then you're very welcome!" The dwarf beamed. "Happy to be of service!"
Shiara snorted, but quietly. Darlbrin didn't notice. He bowed to each of us and went off to help the rest of the dwarves finish clearing the tunnel. I looked at Shiara. "I didn't know you'd broken your arm before."
"That's because I didn't tell you about it," Shiara said. She looked at me for a minute, then sighed. "I was stealing apples from the Prince's gardens and fell out of the tree, all right?"
"Oh. What prince, and why were you taking his apples?"
"The Prince of the Ruby Throne," Shiara said after a minute. "He had a house and garden just outside town, and he never picked any of the apples. He just left them to rot. And I was hungry. So I sneaked over the wall and climbed the tree, but there was a big snake in it, with wings. So I fell out of the tree and broke my arm, and the snake went away."