“I won’t deny that I misused many women in my day,” Xurces said. “At my trial, the prosecutor insisted that he had proof that I had fathered over one hundred children.”
“My point exactly,” Much said.
“But I must assure you,” Xurces pleaded. “The desires that drove those actions are long gone. I have the scars to prove it.”
“What makes you so darn interested in Lyra all of a sudden, then?” Much demanded.
“I am merely exercising compassion,” Xurces said sincerely. “Lyra worked as a barmaid and fell prey to someone like me, several someones, if truth be told. Now she has a daughter and another child on the way and no one to take care of her.”
“And you think that’s your job?” Much said. “As some kind of penance?”
“Yes, maybe penance,” Xurces said. “But it goes deeper than that. They say I fathered one hundred children, but I’ve never seen even one of them, much less been there when they were born.
“Now,” he went on, “I have the chance to do good and help Lyra and experience what I was too selfish to participate in before.”
Much seemed to mull that over, the frown on his face stubborn. “All right, but I’m watching you,” he said after a long pause. “If I get even the hint of something going wrong with you, you’ll wish those prison guards had killed you instead.”
Xurces looked more relieved than offended. He simply smiled mildly and bowed his head.
Much turned and walked away muttering. Bradok started to follow, but Corin stopped him.
“He really is harmless, you know,” he said of Xurces.
“How do you know?”
“With a face like his, every woman in the penal caves wanted him for their man,” Corin said. “He could have had any of them, or all of them, but he never touched even one.”
“Is it because of …” Bradok started, not knowing exactly how to finish.
Corin shrugged. “I don’t know if he can’t or if he just won’t,” he said. “But either way, it means that Lyra is safer with him than with just about anyone.”
“I hope you’re right,” Bradok said.
“Bradok?” Thurl’s voice echoed across the space.
“Here,” Bradok said.
Thurl waved at him from the hole in the crystal wall then disappeared inside. Bradok pushed back through the crowd and followed slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When at last he could see, he found Thurl waiting for him just up the passage. The scarred dwarf stood before what looked like a wall. As Bradok got closer, he could see that it was, in fact, a wall made of expertly baked bricks. A large hole opened in the middle of the wall, and several bricks were strewn on the floor in front of it, as if they’d been pushed through from the other side.
Bradok stuck his head through the hole and gasped. Inside was different. The path had been finished with flagstones on the ground and carved, shaped walls cut smooth. A bracket for a torch had been mounted on the wall, but there was no torch.
“What do you think?” Bradok asked Thurl. “Is this Daergar?”
“Daergar don’t build like this,” Thurl said. “Besides, the floor is covered in dirt. No one’s used this tunnel in a very long time.”
“That doesn’t mean no one lives in here.”
“I’d guess not,” Thurl said. “We should tread softly, just in case.”
Bradok pulled out his compass. Sure enough, the Seer’s spear pointed straight down the disused tunnel. Their luck was changing.
“Go get the others,” he said. “Tell them we have to be extra quiet.”
Thurl nodded and left. Bradok pulled a few more bricks from the semicollapsed wall, making the opening big enough for the others to pass through, then climbed over to the other side. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out any decoration or design to the stonework. It seemed plain and functional but well made.
When the lanterns arrived, they didn’t reveal anything new.
“What if these are Daergar tunnels?” Chisul hissed as he climbed through the wall.
“What if they’re Theiwar?” Bradok shot back.
“Either one would be a problem,” Corin said as he followed Chisul.
“I doubt there’ll be trouble,” Much said, coming next.
“Why do you say that?” Corin asked.
Much pointed at the dirt-covered ground. “I don’t know about your people,” he said, “but no self-respecting dwarf would let his tunnels get into this state. I’d say these were abandoned long ago.”
“You have a point,” Corin admitted.
“Abandoned or not, I want four armed dwarves leading the way, weapons in hand,” Bradok said. He drew his sword, and Chisul, Corin, and Much drew theirs as well. Corin had borrowed Tal’s sword since the doctor was always excused from guard duty.
They moved slowly down the passageway with their band of survivors trailing behind. The way ran straight and slightly down, turning only once, to the right. Finally, it ended in a set of carved double doors. Each heavy stone door had an intricate arch carved on its surface. Under the arch, a field of stars blazed around a single larger star that had been painted red. The impression was of eyes peering out from behind the doors, watching them.
“What do you think?” Bradok asked Kellik, running his hands over the carved arches. Each arch seemed to be made up of four separate vinelike strands that wound together into a single, unified strand at the top.
“If they used graphite on the hinges, they should still open fine,” Kellik said. “Grease would have dried up over time.”
“I don’t see a latch,” Bradok said, bracing himself and placing his hand against the wall.
“Wait!” Corin said, quickly stepping forward. Bradok edged aside as the Daergar got so close to the door his nose almost grazed the stone.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, running his hand reverently over the arches.
“Don’t believe what?” Kellik said. “It’s just a door, isn’t it?”
“Not the door,” Corin said, pointing at the red star. “It’s Starlight Hall.”
Jeni and Thurl had come up behind Corin, and they gasped at his words.
“It can’t be,” Thurl said. “Starlight Hall is just a fairy story, something to tell children when they go to bed.”
“What is he talking about?” Bradok asked Corin.
“It’s a myth,” Corin explained. “One of the oldest stories in Daergar legend.
“Nine hundred years ago, a dwarf named Galoka Starlight tried to convert the Daergar back to the worship of Reorx. He taught that the family of dwarves could never be reunited until we are all unified under one god.”
“I bet that went over well,” Kellik harrumphed.
Corin shrugged. “According to the legend, Galoka had great success in several Daergar cities, before the Underking took notice of him.”
“What happened then?” Bradok asked.
“The Underking put a price on Galoka’s head and ordered his followers killed.” Corin continued. “According to the legend, a dwarf named Ekin ran ahead to Galoka’s stronghold, before the Underking’s army got there. Ekin died from the exertion, but he did manage to warn Galoka of the approaching army. Galoka took his followers and fled into unexplored caverns, vowing to build a city where all dwarves would live together in peace.”
Bradok frowned. “It’s an interesting story,” he conceded. “So what makes you think this door has anything to do with Galoka?”
“There’s more to the legend, love,” Jeni said in her airy voice. She was listening intently even though she seemed to know the story.
Corin nodded. “Over the years there have been many dwarves who became lost in the deep caves, sometimes for years. When they finally returned, some told tales of a fantastic city called Starlight Hall. A city deep under the earth where live trees grew and fantastical machines did all manner of work.”
“When was the last time someone came back and told such a thing?” Bradok asked skeptically.
“Well, not for a long time,” Corin admitted. “Though there was a dwarf who found a strange sword back in my grandfather’s time. The sword wasn’t really magical, but it wouldn’t rust.”