"The uneven motion may partly be the tracks' construction," Chane went on. "Did you notice them?"
Wynn glowered at the back of his head. Normally he was so quiet. Why all the prattle now? Perhaps he was trying to distract her from suffering.
"Simple and easily maintained," he added. "They need only forge new steel to reline the ruts, likely guiding the tram without need for a steering mechanism."
Wynn swallowed hard. "Chane, please … stop … talking!"
He pivoted and raised his eyebrows, as if surprised at her tone, and the tram took a hard left turn.
Wynn closed her eyes with a groan. Her fingernails bit into the bench as a strange metal screech built around their car.
"We are slowing," Chane said. "There is light ahead, more than from the engine's crystal."
At least that was a welcome comment.
Wynn opened her eyes in fragile hope and leaned over the tram's rail wall. She saw some light ahead, enough to make out the tram car's side … and the tunnel's stone wall rushing by in a blur.
Her stomach lurched.
Light grew quickly, building to a warm glow. The tunnel wall's rush began to slow, and to Wynn's relief, the tram rolled into another constructed cavern. In a screech of steel, it finally stopped, lurching her forward in her seat.
Shade groaned somewhere below amid a scratch of claws on the car's floor.
Wynn saw a station platform on the car's far side. Dwarves aboard immediately got up and began disembarking. She sagged forward, bracing against the back of Chane's bench, and reached down for Shade's head.
"We're here … it's over," she whispered with effort, but she couldn't find Shade by touch.
A moaning growl rose from somewhere behind her. Without a breeze from the tram's rush, so did a thin, foul smell.
"Shade?" Wynn whispered.
She stood up, wobbling as she stepped into the aisle, and bent over, looking for the dog.
Shade lay under the next bench back. Her rib cage bulged with each heaving breath, and spittle dripped freely from her half-open jaws. Below Wynn's own bench was a pool of saliva surrounding undigested sausage lumps.
Wynn covered her mouth against a gag.
"It wasn't any better for me," she muttered.
Shade exposed still-dripping teeth, and Wynn regretted her words, even if Shade couldn't understand them.
"Come," Chane interrupted, and hoisted his packs and hers as well.
Wynn took up the staff, checking the sun crystal under its leather cover. Then she crouched, patting the side of her leg as she peered at Shade.
Shade crawled out, rising on shaky legs, and Wynn felt even worse at having put Shade through this ordeal. It couldn't be helped. They had to find High-Tower's family as soon as possible. She stroked Shade's head, passing memories of quiet inn rooms, and then pulled Shade along as she followed Chane onto the platform.
Sea-Side's tram station wasn't set deep into the mountain, as in Bay-Side. It was couched directly behind the settlement's main market cavern, smaller than Bay-Side's but still filled with the hazy glow of steaming crystals upon pylons. Beyond scarce vendors and others, only four great columns with few upper walkways supported the high ceiling. Scant passengers already gathered on the platform for the tram's return trip. As the stout female dwarf came along to usher them aboard, Wynn caught the young woman's attention.
"How late is it?" she asked.
"Barely Night-Summer's end," the girl answered. "About your midnight."
She stepped back on to the tram with the last of her passengers.
"And now?" Chane asked.
Wynn looked about. Some arriving passengers headed for the archway leading outside into the cold night, but most of them disappeared into the widest of three other tunnels leading deeper inside the mountain.
"That way," Wynn said, nodding toward the latter.
With Chane on one side and Shade on the other, she stepped off the platform to search for Sea-Side's "underside." Motion sickness passed as curiosity took its place.
After a short walk down a vast columned tunnel, she spotted side paths through archways the size of normal roads. These were placed at intervals akin to a city block. Squat pylons with engravings stood at each intersection, but only every other one held a steaming orange crystal, smaller than the ones of Bay-Side.
"This settlement is not as developed as the other," Chane commented, stepping ahead.
"Wait," Wynn called, circling the nearest pylon.
She studied dwarven engravings on all four sides. It took a moment to figure them out, and then she peered down the left-side path. The way broadened farther on, and she spotted signs, flags, and banners in front of varied doors and openings.
"The pylon says this is Chamid Bâyir," she said, pointing down the main tunnel. "Oblique Mainway—wherever that goes."
A few dwarves and fewer humans milled past them.
Chane looked warily at a thickly bearded human in a shimmering head wrap and short umber robe. Dark skinned, with a sheathless curved sword slid into his fabric wrap belt, he returned Chane's stare with haughty disdain before moving on.
"Do not get out of my sight," Chane warned.
Wynn shot him a glare. She was as well traveled as he was, and far more accustomed to this culture.
Shade growled.
The tone was different from her pained suffering on the tram, and Wynn forgot Chane's irritating manner. She spun about and found Shade watching a dwarf in a leather hauberk striding toward them along the mainway. Two matched, overmuscled, and short-haired hounds padded beside him.
Both animals were barrel-chested, their raised heads easily higher than the dwarf's belt. In contrast, Shade looked even more like a slender, long-legged wolf. Her hackles rose as she pulled back her jowls.
One dog slowed and began growling back.
Wynn crouched, quickly laying down her staff and grabbing Shade's neck. She'd tried to warn Shade about growling at strangers, but doing so with memories hadn't been easy. She hadn't mentioned—shown—Shade anything about other dogs.
"Apologies," she said in Dwarvish. "My dog is a bit protective."
"Dog?" the dwarf replied.
His bushy brows rumpled as he eyed Shade, who obviously looked like a wolf. But he didn't appear offended and nudged his own animal with his knee, growling, "Quit!" With a polite smile to Wynn, he continued on his way.
Wynn watched the houndmaster and then saw Chane's hand on his sword's hilt. The dwarf either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared. Holding Shade fast, Wynn called out in Numanese so that Chane could follow.
"Sir?"
The dwarf paused and half turned.
"Do you know of the Yêarclág … the Iron-Braids?" she asked. "And where they reside?"
"No, miss," the dwarf answered, this time glancing at Chane's tensed hand. "But you are in the upper trade district. You may need to head beyond it, possibly down, to find dwelling districts. Maybe someone there can help you."
His Numanese was perfect, but most dwarves spoke it well enough, along with a smattering of other tongues. Dwarves, who valued good trade with other cultures, were so oral that language came easily to them.
"Thank you," Wynn called.
The dwarf returned a shallow bow and headed off with his hounds. Shade was still leering after them, and Wynn grabbed her gently by the snout.
"No!" she whispered firmly.
Shade rumbled, glaring back with blue crystalline eyes. She shook herself free of the grip.
Wynn sighed in frustration. Sometimes she forgot that Shade didn't understand language—not like her father. Trying to use memories and present them in clear and meaningful strings was daunting. Wynn stood up and turned on Chane.
"And you!" she said. "Keep your hand off that sword, unless you have no choice! Most dwarves are quick to laugh and slow to anger, but once aroused, they don't calm easily. Even you would have trouble facing one of them."