Limbeck accepted the assistance, carefully cleaned his spectacles on Bane’s shirt. Putting them on, he took a long look at the child, then at Haplo, then at the child again.
It was odd, but Haplo could have sworn that Limbeck was seeing them both for the first time.
“Haplo,” said Limbeck gravely. He glanced again at Bane, hesitated, seemed uncertain how to address the boy who had been presented to the Geg as first a god, then a human prince, then the son of an extremely powerful human wizard.
“You remember Bane,” said Haplo easily. “Crown prince and heir to the throne of the Volkaran Isles.”
Limbeck nodded, an expression of extreme cunning and shrewdness on his face. The great machine outside may have been at a standstill, but wheels were turning inside the dwarfs head. His thoughts were so obvious on his face that Haplo could have spoken them aloud.
So this is the story, is it? and How will this affect me?
Haplo, accustomed to the vague, impractical, idealistic dwarf he’d left behind, was surprised at this change in Limbeck, wondered what it portended, didn’t particularly like it. Any type of change, even change for the good, was disruptive. Haplo saw in these first few moments of their meeting that he was going to have to deal with a completely new and different Limbeck.
“Your Highness,” said Limbeck, having apparently, by the crafty smile on his face, come to the conclusion that this situation would suit him fine.
“Limbeck is High Froman, Your Highness,” said Haplo, hoping Bane would take the hint and treat Limbeck with the respect he deserved.
“High Froman Limbeck,” said Bane, in a tone of cool politeness used by one royal ruler to an equal. “I am pleased to see you once again. And who are these other Gegs you have brought with you?”
“Not Gegs” said Limbeck sharply, his face darkening. “ ‘Geg’ is a slave word. An insult! Demeaning!” He slammed his clenched hand into his fist. Taken aback by the dwarfs vehemence, Bane looked swiftly to Haplo for an explanation. Haplo himself was startled, but, remembering some of his conversations with Limbeck in the past, thought he understood what was going on. Indeed, Haplo might even be held partially accountable.
“You must understand, Your Highness, that Limbeck and his people are dwarves—a proper and ancient term for their race, just as you and your people are known as humans. The term ‘Gegs’—”
“—was given to us by the elves,” said Limbeck, tugging at his spectacles, which were starting to steam over due to the moisture rising from his beard.
“Pardon me, Your Highness, but might I—Ah, thank you.” He wiped his spectacles again on Bane’s proffered shirt-tail.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Your Highness,” Limbeck said coolly, placing the spectacles around his ears and staring at Bane through them. “You, of course, had no way of knowing that this word has now become a deadly insult to us dwarves. Hasn’t it?”
He looked to his fellows for support. But Lof was gaping at Haplo, whose blue glow was just beginning to fade. The other dwarf was staring nervously at the dog.
“Lof,” Limbeck snapped. “Did you hear what I just said?” Lof jumped, looked extremely guilty, nudged his companion.
Their leader’s voice was stern. “I was saying that the term ‘Geg’ is an insult to us.”
Both dwarves instantly attempted to appear mortally offended and deeply wounded, though it was quite obvious that they didn’t have slightest idea what was going on.
Limbeck frowned, seemed to start to say something, then sighed and fell silent.
“May I talk to you? Alone?” he asked Haplo suddenly.
“Sure,” said Haplo, shrugging.
Bane flushed, opened his mouth-Haplo forestalled him with a look. Limbeck eyed the boy. “You’re the one who came up with a diagram on the Kicksey-winsey. You figured out how it worked, didn’t you, Your Highness?”
“Yes, I did,” said Bane, with a becoming modesty.
Limbeck took off his spectacles, reached absently for the handkerchief. Pulling it out, he rediscovered the sodden mass. He shoved the spectacles back on his nose. “You come along, too, then,” he said. Turning to his compatriots, he issued orders. “You stay here, keep watch. Let me know when the storm starts to lift.”
The two nodded solemnly, moved to stand by the window.
“It’s the elves I’m worried about,” Limbeck explained to Haplo. They were walking toward the front of the ship and Haplo’s living quarters. “They’ll spot your ship and come out to investigate. We’ll need to be getting back to the tunnels before the storm ends.”
“Elves?” Haplo repeated in astonishment. “Down here? On Drevlin?”
“Yes,” said Limbeck. “That’s one of the things I need to talk to you about.” He settled himself on a stool in Haplo’s cabin, a stool that had once belonged to the dwarves on Chelestra.
Haplo almost said something to that effect, checked himself. Limbeck wasn’t worried about dwarves on other worlds. He was having trouble enough with this one, apparently.
“When I became High Froman, the first thing I ordered done was to shut the Liftalofts down. The elves came for their water shipment... and didn’t get any. They decided to fight, figured they’d scare us with their bright steel and magic.
“ ‘Run, Gegs,’ they yelled at us, ‘run away before we step on you like the bugs you are!’
“They played right into my hands,” Limbeck said, removing his spectacles and twirling them about by the ear bow. “Quite a few dwarves didn’t agree with me that we should fight. Especially the clarks. They didn’t want to upset things, wanted our lives to go on as before. But when they heard the elves call us ‘bugs’ and speak to us as if we truly had no more brains or feelings than insects, even the most peace-loving graybeard was ready to gnaw on elf ears.
“We surrounded the elves and their ship. There were hundreds, maybe a thousand dwarves there that day.” Limbeck looked back with a dreamy, wistful expression, and Haplo saw, for the first time since he’d met the dwarf, a hint of the idealistic Limbeck of old acquaintance.
“The elves were mad, frustrated, but there was nothing they could do. We outnumbered them and they were forced to surrender to us. They offered us money.
“We didn’t want their money[19]—what was that to us? And we didn’t want any more of their castoffs and garbage.”
“What did you want?” Haplo asked, curious.
“A city,” said Limbeck with pride. His eyes shone. He appeared to have forgotten about the spectacles that dangled loosely from his hand. “A city up there, in the Mid Realms. Above the storm. A city where our children could feel sunshine on their faces and see trees and play Outside. And elven dragonships to take us there.”
“Would your people like that? Wouldn’t they miss... er... this?” Haplo waved vaguely at the lightning-blasted landscape, the shining skeletal arms of the Kicksey-winsey.
“We don’t have much choice,” said Limbeck. “There are far too many of us crowded down here. Our population is growing, but the tunnels are not. Once I began studying the matter, I found out that the Kicksey-winsey has been destroying more housing than it’s been providing. And there are mountain ranges, up there, in the Mid Realms. Our people could tunnel and build. In time, they’d learn to be happy there.”
He sighed and fell silent, staring at the floor that he couldn’t see without his spectacles.
“What happened? What did the elves say?”
Limbeck stirred restlessly, glanced up. “They lied to us. I suppose it was my fault. You know how I was then—trusting, naive.”
Limbeck put his spectacles back on, glared at Haplo as if daring him to argue. He didn’t.
“The elves promised that they would agree to all our terms,” Limbeck went on.
“They would come back, they said, with ships ready to take our people to the Mid Realms. They came back, all right.” His voice was bitter.
19
Due to the severe water shortage in the Mid Realms, water is an extremely valuable commodity. Both human and elven monetary systems are based on water. In human lands, 1 barl is equivalent to 1 barrel of water and may be exchanged for such at the king’s treasury or on any of the royal waterfarms scattered throughout the Volkaran and Uylandian isles.