Rose lingered to talk to him. “You know,” she said with as much cheer as she could muster. “You’ve been a pretty good leader up to now. It would be a shame for you to let a little boredom and aggravation change all that.”
She was right, Bradok knew. Yet he couldn’t seem to shake off his black mood. It felt as if his head were stuffed with angry bees who kept buzzing and buzzing, all the louder.
He put his right hand out and let his fingers glide along the wall. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, using the touch of the wall to guide him forward. He let the breath out and took in another, trying to cleanse his mind. The bees just buzzed louder.
Cursing the infernal tunnels, he tried again, closing off his senses to everything but the rough, damp surface of the wall. He felt the coolness of the air as he breathed it in, focused on his lungs filling up, then on blowing the air back out his mouth.
Somewhere, from what seemed like a long way off, Bradok became aware of unfamiliar noises. They were not unfamiliar, really, but sounds and noises he hadn’t heard in a long time.
He opened his eyes, and the world returned to him. From up the tunnel ahead of him, people were shouting and calling out excitedly. The joy in those voices instantly lifted a weight off Bradok’s shoulders. He felt suddenly as though he could fly. Exhilaration flooded his body. He had no idea what had happened to cause such a stir, but he rushed up the tunnel.
Everyone he passed was wearing the same, hungry-for-excitement look. As he expectantly rounded a sharp curve in the rock, he thought his eyes must have been playing tricks on him. From somewhere up ahead, a pale, white light shone brightly. He held up his hands, shielding his eyes against the glow, and suddenly, a blast of cool air and the smell of water hit him.
His foot crunched on sand as he stepped out of the tunnel into an immense cavern. Everywhere he looked, different kinds of mushrooms grew: big ones, small ones, familiar ones, strange ones he’d never dreamed of. They grew clustered around columns of rock, along shelves in the rock, and even on the ceiling. Bradok could see peppertops, honey mushrooms, blackroot, and sagetube. There were tall, fat, red mushrooms and strange orange fungi that seemed to grow upside down from the ceiling. Mixed into the cornucopia were clusters of pale, glowing mushrooms Bradok recognized as the variety his clan called Reorx’s torch. The Reorx’s torch mushrooms were everywhere, filling the space with light.
Off to the left, Bradok could hear the sound of water lapping against an invisible shore. The air bore the pungent smell of water as well, and Bradok breathed in the water gratefully.
“This is more like it,” he said to no one in particular. The bright, colorful cavern reminded him momentarily of Ironroot, and he felt a pang of loss for the home he would never see again.
The smell of water drew him, and he turned toward the sound of the lapping waves. The floor of the cavern sloped down, and Bradok could see a vast, dark lake off to his left. Even as bright as the cavern was, no light shone on the far side of the lake, giving one the impression that it simply fell away into nothingness. The cavern’s floor sloped back down to a round opening with a short stretch of beach where gentle waves rolled in and out with a quiet whoosh. Already some of the children had their shoes off and were wading and splashing in the icy water.
“What do you think?” Much said, striding up beside Bradok with his watch in hand. “There’s still half a day left to march.”
“I don’t care what he thinks,” Chisul said, walking by toward the water. “This place is a dream. We should stay here for a while.”
“I agree with Chisul,” Bradok said easily. “We can gather food, wash out our clothes-”
“Bathe,” Rose said, pausing beside him and sniffing pointedly.
“That too,” he said, rolling his eyes.
They bathed in shifts with the women and children washing first, while the men stayed on the opposite side of the sloping floor gathering food. Corin and Xurces showed Bradok, Kellik, and Tal how to gather wall root, a fibrous fungus that grew out of the walls like scraggly hair. It didn’t taste particularly good, but its fibrous nature made it laborious to chew, so it was long-lasting nourishment. According to Xurces, a dwarf could survive on it without any other food, if need be. Everyone hoped that would not be necessary.
There were many mushrooms that no one recognized, and they decided to leave those be since the only way to tell if they were edible or poisonous was to eat them. Still, there were plenty of mushrooms they knew to be safe. Bradok quickly filled the cloak he’d tied off as a sack and went looking for others to help. Kellik’s eldest son, Rijul, seemed to have lost momentum, so Bradok went over to help him.
When he reached the lad, he discovered what had diverted Rijul from the important task of gathering food. Where he stood behind a pillar of rock, the floor dipped down, giving a perfect view of the beach. The lad’s eyes were the size of saucers. As Bradok came up behind him, he, too, could see the beach and the bathing female dwarves. His eyes unconsciously sought out a form, taller than the others, topped with wet red hair. For a moment, he, too, was mesmerized like young Rijul; then he realized what he saw-who he saw-and he turned away, blushing furiously.
“That’s enough, lad,” he said, taking the dazed Rijul by the collar and pulling him away. “Plenty of time for that when you’re older.”
Once the men had gathered enough food, Bradok opened his pack and began laying out his clothes to wash and sort. Beside him, Corin sat and watched. The only clothes he owned were the ones he wore under the spare cloak Bradok had given him.
“You must have been an important dwarf above ground,” Corin said, observing the quality of Bradok’s gear. “Chisul keeps calling you, ‘councilman.’ Is that some kind of leader?”
Bradok nodded. “I was a councilman of the city of Ironroot,” he said, adding, “a representative who voted for laws and public policies.”
Corin seemed impressed but didn’t say more.
As Bradok pulled out one of his two spare shirts, a wrapped bundle dropped from his pack and hit the sandy floor with a thud. The impact freed a delicate strand of gold that clutched a smoky gray pearl.
Corin whistled and picked up the pearl, pulling a necklace free from the bundle. It boasted gold chain-work with pearls, white diamonds, and a single teardrop-shaped ruby that, when worn, would dangle just below the throat. Bradok wanted to snatch the necklace away, but it was too late to keep it a secret from Corin.
“I’ll say you were a big man indeed,” he said, cradling the necklace and inspecting it with an expert’s eye. “Did you convert your wealth to jewels so you could bring it all with you?”
“I was a jeweler by trade,” Bradok said reluctantly. “That necklace is one of my own designs.”
“It’s exquisite,” Corin said, clearly impressed. “What a pair we could have made,” he said in a wistful voice. “In my time I could have sold this for four times its value,” he said. Then with a little shrug, he handed it back to Bradok. “Not much use to any of us now, I’m afraid,” he said.
“No,” Bradok said with a wistful smile. Taking the necklace, Bradok carefully tucked it into the bundle again and stowed it in his pack. After a second’s thought, he reached back in and moved the smaller bundle to the bottom of the pack, tucking it under a pile.
“You don’t need to worry about those valuables,” Corin said, a chuckle in his voice. “Down here they aren’t worth much. You can’t trade them to anyone, and you sure can’t eat them.”
Bradok smiled at the joke. It was too true. “Force of habit,” he said apologetically.
The sound of tearing cloth attracted both dwarves’ attention. Much had torn strips off his cloak and one of his shirts, and he was tying the strips together.
“What are you doing?” Corin asked, looking at the strange concoction taking shape in Much’s hands.