He already knew the answer.
Chap huffed twice for “no.”
“You could stay here and guard them yourself ... while I go on alone.”
Chap only growled.
Chane turned back to leave the tunnel. He had taken only three steps when he heard the matching click of Chap’s clawed strides.
Chap followed Chane back down the rocky shore to the port. His instincts tried to pull him around to go back after the orbs, not that he could have without Chane. And he was not letting that undead go after the third without him.
It took little time to reach the port now that Chane was unburdened. The vampire stopped long enough to retrieve the third chest and then continued through the port to the far end. He turned a corner inland, and as Chap followed, Chane was already climbing a ramp up to a gate.
As Chap approached, a wild-haired dwarf in a knee-length, black-furred vest strutted out of a nearby booth. In truth, Chap had little experience with dwarves. Contrary to tales on the eastern continent, they were not diminutive. Though shorter than humans, they look almost twice as wide. This full, black-bearded one’s head reached the middle of Chane’s chest.
He appeared undaunted by the tall, pale human before him and grunted in Numanese, “How far?”
“To the top,” Chane answered.
Confused, Chap looked upward, for he saw no other choices in the dark. He did not like facing the unknown in any dealings with Chane, who seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
The vampire set down the chest, pulled out a faded pouch, and opened it. He removed two large, thick rounds of iron with holes in the center. There might have been some form of engraving or stamp on them, but Chane dropped the pieces into the attendant’s broad hand.
The attendant’s bushy eyebrows lifted. He quickly stowed the coins in a pocket Chap hadn’t seen in the thickly furred vest and then stepped rather lively to the “lift” gate and pulled it open. Chane picked up the empty chest again, balancing it on his left shoulder in order to keep his right hand free.
“Nonstop to the top, sir,” the dwarf said with a quick bow of his head.
Chap’s ears pricked. He did not see how bits of iron warranted such a change of demeanor, let alone bypassing any supposed stops on the way up.
“Thank you,” Chane replied, stepping to the lift’s gate, turning around, and waiting as he eyed Chap without emotion.
Chap’s irritation got the better of him again. No, he would never admit openly that Chane was ... useful. He stepped up under the gaze of the attendant and onto a thick wooden platform framed by huge wheels. And as soon as he was on the floor’s thick timbers, he heard the gate shut ...
“Brace yourself,” Chane rasped as he grabbed hold of the rear railing with his free hand.
The lift lurched upward, and Chap quickly spread all fours. He did not wonder how the attendant had signaled whatever machinery above raised the lift. He wanted to snarl at Chane for not warning him better as the lift gained speed—and more speed—and crags and gashes of the mountain rushed by.
After that, all that Chap could do, besides brace himself, was try to swallow his stomach back down ... again and again. He wanted to close his eyes but dared not as he needed to see what was happening around him. A loud racket rose louder and louder under the platform from the immense wheels on the lift’s two sides.
He barely noticed any of the small settlements bypassed along the way. The vibrations alone threatened to empty his stomach and ... and something else he had not lost control of since he was a puppy.
“Not far now,” Chane rasped.
The last thing Chap wanted was assurances from that thing.
The lift finally approached the top and began to slow, but at the roll over the lip of the mountain shelf, the lift suddenly rocked.
Chap lost control.
When the tram finally stopped, Chane was staring at him. The undead cleared his throat uncomfortably while looking away and then hurried to open the front gate himself as a rotund attendant arrived.
Chap just stood there, shaking in sickness ... and shame.
He shook off each back foot with every step as he left a puddle behind.
The rotund and somewhat grimy lift master snarled at him, “You filthy mongrel.”
Chap hung his head and hunched his shoulders. He wobbled down the ramp, still trying to shake off his rear paws, and did not look back toward what the lift master would have to clean up.
Chane stood ahead on the immense landing of Chemarré, looking the other way toward a large opening into the mountain. All around them, the roads appeared to flow in steep runs between sharp turns. All ways were bordered by various buildings of stone built with thin-line fitted blocks or carved from the mountain’s native rock.
Chap hesitantly looked around the landing and spotted the lift’s crank house and a huge enclosed turnstile driven by mules. He did not see how the lift had achieved such speed, and he looked again to the enormous open arch in the mountainside.
Orange-yellow light glowed from within.
“We’re at Chemarré’s way station,” Chane said, heading for the arch.
Feeling even more at a loss, Chap followed. The entryway was not as large as he had first thought, but it was still immense. Ahead was a vast tunnel with central stone columns so big that two, or even three, people could have hidden behind one. On the right was another opening to another space.
There were numerous people about, heading this way or that. Most were dwarves in various attire, some in armor and a few with huge dogs that sniffed in his direction. There were some humans among them, and most of these were dressed as prosperous merchants, vessel captains, or other traders a little more wild and rough looking.
Chane headed for the central tunnel and into that other side archway. As Chap followed, he stopped at what filled his sight.
Two tunnels, each the width of three roads, ran directly into the mountain. Triple sets of twined steel-lined ruts in the granite floor ran into each of these.
At the near ends of the ruts stood platforms of stout wood planks and timbers, like the docks of a harbor. One platform was crowded with dwarves and humans jostling to board and find seats in a string of open-sided cars. A half-empty string of the same stretched out beside the other platform.
“Trams,” Chane said quietly, “to get through the whole mountain to the other two settlements.”
Those trams of connected cars, constructed of solid wood painted in tawny and jade tones, rode on steel and iron undercarriages. Their wheels were shod with steel. Rows of benches faced ahead inside each car, separated by a narrow walkway down the center. Passengers were protected on the outside by waist-high rail walls. Each car was roofed, but only their fronts contained a full wall and a door, probably to break rushing winds once the tram gained speed.
The very thought made Chap grow queasy again.
“Apparently, majay-hì have difficulty with dwarven travel,” Chane said. “Though not quite father like daughter.”
This time, Chap did snarl.
A wide, bearded dwarf in a plain leather hauberk stepped to the nearer platform’s edge and cupped his mouth with large, sinewy hands.
“Maksag Chekiuní-da!” he boomed, and then, in Numanese, “Leaving for Point-Side!”
After this, he trundled along the platform, shooing lingering passengers into the cars.
“Not ours,” Chane commented.
No sooner had the last passenger settled than a cloud of steam billowed around the tram’s lead car, making it impossible to see clearly. Chap barely made out its front, which seemed to end in a point.
The steam lit up with a bright glow from within. Its front point burned like one of the massive pylon crystals along the main tunnel. Whatever crystal rode on the tram engine’s front had to be so much larger. And its light pulsed in a slow rhythm.