With the eerie silence ringing louder than any echoes of clashing steel, the new thane of the Daergar marched to the center of his phalanx and out the gates of the arena into the broad, deserted streets of the city that was now his rightful domain.
Chapter Eight
A Throne Made Easy
"I have two jobs for you: Steelcut Gutterblood, Younger and Elder. Fortunately, Berest Elfslayer has already been dealt with by my sister."
His rage slightly pacified by his triumph, Darkend Bellowsmoke issued these orders to his assassin, known only as Slickblade.
"Your commands are my life, lord," replied Slickblade with a slight inclination of his head.
For this brief interval the two Daergar were alone, though the shouts of the thane's lieutenants could be heard throughout the halls of the great palace, hiding from the sounds, the search of the premises was proceeding smoothly.
"May they be both your life and the death of my enemies!" Darkend replied, chuckling grimly. Now that he was sitting in the thane's throne, surrounded by the opulence of his position, his mood was beginning to brighten. The throbbing in his leg was gone, the wound itself cleansed and further healed by some ointment found in the thane's pharmacologies.
The assassin made his farewells with formal politeness then exited through one of the secret passages that had quickly yielded itself to Darkend's inspection. As time passed in this great palace, he knew that he would undoubtedly discover more such passages. Momentarily he cursed Halt Blackmetal, his predecessor, for not maintaining a blueprint or some other kind of written directions to the maze of this place.
A knock suddenly thudded onto the great steel doors of his vaulted chamber, reminding him of more pragmatic concerns.
Garimeth Bellowsmoke, alone and clad in a cape of shimmering silver foil, was admitted to the throne room by an unseen doorman. She curtsied with great formality before rising to approach the great chair.
"Ah, dear sister, thank you for responding to my invitation with such alacrity."
"You impress me, Lord Thane, with your command of language. Where have you been 'matriculating,' that you should use a word like 'alacrity'?"
"There are many things about me that you do not know, though we are bound by blood. It would do you well to remember that it may be best to keep some matters in the dark."
"Ever I shall, lord-or may I call you 'brother'?"
"As you will. Your return to our city is fortuitous, for it is my intention that you serve me in many ways, in positions of power and influence, at my right hand."
"My brother knows that he has but to speak, and I will obey."
"My first command is this: You are to insure that my coronation feast is the most memorable in the lifetime of our clan's most venerable elders. The menu shall consist of only the finest blindfish from the depths of the Urkhan Sea. There is to be a plentitude, enough to stuff the belly of even the most lowly footman among my armies."
"A wise choice, Lord. A full stomach is the best way to still a complaining tongue."
"Indeed. As for beverage, you are to buy the finest barrels from every brewer in Daerbardin and Daerforge. Every dark dwarf shall be invited to drink and I want none to grow surly from sucking at an empty spigot."
"Naturally my brother. And may I suggest the pear fungus from the south warren. The crop has just ripened, and I am told that the mushrooms are the largest and most flavorful in recent memory."
"Good. Buy the whole crop. We'll have it fried, baked, and carved-prepared every tasty way known to the clan's chefs."
"May I inquire as to the funding, Lord Brother? Doubtless you realize that the expense will be enormous."
"The coins will come from my own treasury. I don't want it generally known, but Blackmetal was a cursed old miser. It turns out that there's more steel in those vaults than anyone could have imagined. Heed me, sister. You are to spare no expense. I want every Daergar in the Two Cities to recognize my beneficence, and to feel indebted to the new thane."
"It shall be done."
Garimeth curtsied again, but before she could turn to depart her brother spoke again.
"In your long years in Hybardin, it occurs to me that you must have come into contact with dwarves from all the five clans. Is that correct?"
"Indeed, brother."
"The Theiwar and the Klar? Did you have cause to take note, to learn their ways and their customs?"
"Their comings and goings were frequent in Hybardin and their leaders well known to me. Indeed, I made contacts among both clans. I came to know them nearly as well as I learned the ways of the arrogant Hylar themselves."
"Including their secret speech?"
"Ah! Fortuitously, there is something I have brought from Hybardin, a mere toy to my husband, but I guessed it would prove very useful to myself and to those I choose to aid. It seems I was prescient in this regard. It is an artifact that renders all languages an open slate to me."
"Splendid. Know this, my sister: When my feast has been done, there will be great matters before the clan. I shall rely on your counsel for much of this and your ear shall be my proof against treachery."
"As ever, brother, I am yours to command."
Garimeth's curtsy was deep, her words humble, but even these manners could not conceal from Darkend her tight smile of pure, gleeful ambition.
The feast was a grand success. However, as he leaned on the great veranda of his palace and digested his belly full of food, Darkend was still aware of an undercurrent of distrust lurking in the city of his people. Naturally, he had heard no mention of his use of magic during the duel, but he was well aware that the majority of his subjects regarded his tactic as little better than cowardice.
Still, they had seen him win several duels quite fairly and none could dispute his prowess as a warrior. Furthermore, the subtle presence of Slickblade-who had appeared in many guises throughout the three cycles that the feast had lasted-insured that the least loyal Daergar carefully watched their tongues, even when they thought they were among their oldest and most faithful friends.
For now, Darkend would content himself with the grudging acceptance of his people. Soon enough he would show them beyond any doubt that he was the dark dwarf who should rule them, that he was a thane who would bring them to a glory never before attained by the clan Daergar in all the history of Thorbardin.
From his lofty elevation he could see the blocky structures flanking the beginning of the Fifteenth Road. Great warehouses and apartments rose like cliffs from the straight and precise boundary of the road. The numerous crenellated battle platforms along the walls gave the impression of fortified bulwarks overlooking one of the main roads that connected the two cities of the Daergar. Each of the platforms was the stronghold of one or another of the city's warrior-gangs, and was constantly garrisoned by at least a small troop of armed dwarves.
Darkend's eyes rose to inspect the vast blackness of the straight tunnel leading to Daerforge. Daerbardin, the largest of the kingdom's seven cities, lay at the terminus of the long, lightless avenue. Natural illumination was neither sought nor welcomed by this dark-dwelling clan.
For once Darkend found himself wishing that he could see the Life-Tree of the Hylar. That great stalactite-city hanging from the cavern's ceiling like an inverted mountain, occupied so much of his thoughts, plans, and desires. He would have readily tolerated the hateful expanses of lanterns, lights, and flares that clearly marked the Hylar as a separate people from the Daergar and Theiwar. It was beyond his sight now, he reminded himself, but soon enough he would lay his eyes on that dazzling monument to corruption, wealth, and power.