“Someone other than the chieftain’s son would be up before the wardens for sounding a drum in Thorin,” a scowling carpenter snorted.
“Oh, back off, Hibal,” someone else said. “It was only an accident.”
“The kind of accident that could bring this concourse down upon us,” a rock-cutter said. “There are rules, you know!”
Handil faced them, level-eyed, and raised a hand. “Rules are rules,” he said, so that all could hear, “and no exceptions. You have my apology and my promise. I will report this to the wardens myself and take the penalty any would take.” He looked at the carpenter who had first objected. “Does that satisfy you, Hibal?”
For a moment, it seemed the carpenter might want to challenge. Hibal considered it, gazing at the wide shoulders of Handil, then shook his head. “Another time maybe. I have work to do.”
“Any time,” Handil assured him. “Whenever you like, and I’ll buy the ale afterward.”
Cale Greeneye had appeared from somewhere, inquisitive as always. The chieftain’s youngest son carried a long, wrapped parcel on his shoulder. As Handil turned away again, with Jinna, Cale fell into step alongside. “That was some noise you made, Brother,” he said. “If you were planning to put points on the vibrar, I don’t think you need to bother. That thing is weapon enough, just as it is.”
“I expect I’ll be hearing about that for a while,” Handil admitted dourly. He nodded at his brother’s parcel. “What have you there?”
“A sword,” Cale said. “That same sword that the man had. …” He glanced at Jinna, not certain whether she knew about the human who had died in Grand Gather.
“It’s all right.” Handil stowed his mallets in his belt and took Jinna Rockreave’s hand in his. “I’ll tell Jinna what has occurred. Where are you going?”
“I’m on my way to the guards’ hall to collect some armor and see about a horse. I’ll need …” He raised a brow, looking at his brother. “Oh, you don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Willen is organizing the guards for close patrols, so I volunteered to lead a search westward, to see if we can find out what happened out there. …” Again he glanced at the puzzled face of Jinna Rockreave, then continued. “It was my idea. The escort will be made up of volunteers.”
“Anything for a journey, Little Brother?” Handil grinned. “Still, you might find something. What did Father say about this adventure?”
“What could he say? I was going, anyway. He just said to keep my wits about me.”
“Good advice, considering what the wardens have learned about the wild humans. It sounds like Golash and Chandera are full of strangers. Unfriendly strangers.”
“Well, those are the concern of Cullom Hammerstand’s agents. I plan a far search … clear to the Suncradles, or beyond if necessary. I’ve always wanted to see what’s out there, anyway.”
Cale’s face — a face just made for laughter, many said — turned serious. “I will miss the Balladine, Handil, and I may miss your wedding, too. So I have something here, for both of you.” He opened his shoulder pouch and drew forth a small bag of fine suede. With a shrug, he handed it to Jinna.
The girl opened it, looked inside, and turned wide eyes on her future brother-in-law. “Oh, Cale! They’re beautiful!” From the bag she withdrew a pair of jeweled rings, exquisitely interwoven bands of silver and copper, with gold traceries so fine that the eye could barely follow them. Each band was inset with a trio of cut diamonds.
“They’re elvish work.” Cale shrugged. “I’ve had them for years, thinking there might be a good use for them. I’d be honored if you and Handil would exchange them at your wedding. That way, it will be as though I were there to add my blessing to your union.”
They stopped beneath a sun-tunnel to look at the rings, and Handil felt his throat tighten. Cale Greeneye … Cale Cloudwalker … Cale who was so different from most Calnar that he might have had elven blood in his veins had such been possible. Handil had never understood his youngest brother, even for a moment. Cale was always full of surprises — just such surprises as this. At a loss for words, Handil the Drum placed a fond hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Jinna looked as though there were tears in her eyes. “Oh, Cale, of course we will. These are a wonderful gift! And you will be there with us.”
“It’s just a pair of rings.” Cale said, embarrassed. “No big thing. Just — well, just think about me if I don’t see you again before your time. I’ll think of both of you, too.”
Without another word, Cale turned and strode away, his wrapped sword over his shoulder. He had said his brief goodbyes — to Tolon and Tera, to his father, and now to Handil and his Jinna. He was anxious to be away, to put the familiar sights of Thorin behind him, and see what some of the distant places held.
He was certain that the sword he carried had belonged to Agate Coalglow, and they said the horse that had returned was Piquin — Sledge Two-Fires’ favorite mount. It seemed certain now that the western patrol was dead, killed by wild humans. Agate had been Cale’s friend, and Sledge Two-Fires was a dwarf he had admired. It seemed appropriate to Cale that he take with him something of them when he went to look for clues to their fate.
Clues, and a look at what lay beneath the Suncradles — and maybe what lay beyond.
*
It was evening when Cale Greeneye rode out from Thorin, mounted on the high back of Piquin and followed by six other young adventurers who had volunteered to go with him. The sun was setting beyond the Suncradles, and soft evening light lay on the valleys. But both visible moons were in the sky, and there was light enough for travel. The horses were fresh, and the trails open.
Cale looked back, just once, at the great outer wall of Thorin. “Thorin-Dwarfhome,” he whispered. “Thorin-Everbardin, keep my soul. Welcome this one home should I never return.”
Then he turned his eyes westward, where the last glow of day outlined the wavy peaks of the Suncradles. “Keep pace,” he called to his companions. “There is a lot of world to see out there, and no better time than the present.”
Eyes watched them all the way across the Valley of the Bone and out the Chandera Road — furtive, sullen human eyes, hidden in shadows all along a closing line which would soon be a human cordon around Thorin. Eyes watched, but no man lifted a hand. The seven armed and mounted dwarves were packed for travel, and they were going away. They didn’t matter. They would be not be here to interfere with what Grayfen planned for the citadel of the dwarves.
6
Bram Talien was worried. As trademaster of Chandera, he was responsible for the caravan wending its way toward Thorin, for the midsummer fair that the dwarves called Balladine. Normally, the annual journey was more a pleasure than a worry. As a trader and merchant, Bram Talien enjoyed visiting the Calnar fortress. It was a challenge to match wits with Cullom Hammerstand, the dwarves’ warden of trade, and he had a deep respect for Colin Stonetooth.
The dwarves were not human, of course, but there were dwarves whose company Bram Talien preferred over that of some people he knew.
The caravan was like a traveling city. Carts, wagons, barrows, pack beasts and laden travois by the hundreds wound upward on the mountain road in a line that was sometimes three miles long in the narrow passages, and fully half of the citizens of Chandera trudged along among them, tending stock and driving teams.
Here was the annual commodity wealth of Chandera: grains from lowland fields, spices and scents from the Bloten frontiers, hardwood timbers from the forests bounding the plains of eastern Ergoth, bonemeal and herbs, wooden baskets, tapestries and rugs, and a dozen kinds of wicker furniture. All were things that the dwarves of Thorin cherished and would trade for with their own commodities. And in special wagons near the front of the line was a real prize, something that would make the dwarven traders’ eyes go wide and their bids go high.