Chane's eyes widened and his jaw muscles bulged. Clearly offended, he opened his mouth to respond.
"I'm not questioning your skill," she went on, but lowered her voice to a whisper. "And keep your sword in plain sight. To them, only a villain carries concealed weapons. Magiere and Chap both saw visions of the past … through the memories of others. Dwarves are a match—or better—for an undead's strength."
Chane's expression relaxed. Perhaps he took her at her word—or he was patronizing her. The barest slyness surfaced in his expression—almost a thin smile—and he lunged sideways.
By the time Wynn twisted to catch sight of him, he was behind her.
"They would have to get a hold on me first," he rasped.
She just stared at him. Was he joking? Did Chane know how to joke?
Wynn almost smiled—and then scoffed. He might be faster than a dwarf, but that wasn't the point. The last thing she needed was his overprotective gallantry getting them into trouble.
Chane gestured down Oblique Mainway, then cocked his head toward the side tunnel.
"Onward or outward?"
Wynn had no idea. If the Iron-Braids lived in the poorest district, then they would have to head below sooner or later. How and where was another matter, and she would rather have the answers before they tried navigating unknown regions. She should've asked more from the polite houndmaster.
"The main tunnel," she finally answered. "Maybe it will lead to some way down."
At that wild guess, they were off once more.
A single row of sculpted-based columns stretched along the avenue's center. The structure of Oblique Mainway was plain but astonishing, not only for size and supports but for the chaotic structures that lined it.
Shops and stalls were carved into or built out of the side walls, but their spacing, shape, and size had no discernible pattern. Between one with wide double doors and another with an archway blocked by a garnish of braided drape was a third with a vertical set of three windows—triangle, square, and hexagon. Even those were obscured with curtains. Occasionally, vendors' stalls of wood or canvas surrounded a column, but nearly all along the way were closed for the night.
There was no one who appeared to be a resident to ask for directions. The farther they went, the fewer passersby scurried off their own way. More than half of those kept to the other side of the center columns once they spotted Shade.
Wynn was thankful that Shade kept quiet, but she couldn't help noticing the near absence of humans. Even without Shade, that alone made her and Chane stand out.
"If we cannot find guidance," Chane said, "then we should secure lodging. Tomorrow, more people will be about. We cannot visit these Iron-Braids in the middle of the night, if manners are valued here."
"I want to at least find where they live, and you can't be out during …" She paused when he glanced sidelong at her. "Oh … I suppose you can down here."
The thought hadn't occurred to her before. Underground, shielded from the sun, Chane wasn't limited by daylight.
"Let's look a little longer," she added.
They finally reached the end of the shops. Farther on, the tunnel emptied into a tall, domed chamber somewhat wider than the mainway. Four slimmer columns supported its ceiling, and narrow passages spidered outward around it. Thick steps on both sides climbed upward into stone. On the cavern's far side, one broad tunnel continued onward in a gentle downward slope that arced left.
Wynn heard someone walking toward them.
It took a long time for the figure to enter the mainway's light. An ancient dwarf in a faded gown hobbled into Oblique Mainway, leaning upon a walking rod. Her hair was so thin that her age-speckled scalp showed through it all around. Gnarled wrinkles over her features all but obscured her small eyes. In her stoop, she might have been shorter than Wynn, but was twice as wide, with a large mole on her wrinkled cheek.
"Old mother," Wynn said, a respectful phrase learned from Domin Tilswith, "we are looking for the Iron-Braids. Could you help us?"
The elderly dwarf raised her milky eyes, but her voice was clear as she shook her head.
"I only recently came to live down below … with distant relations… ."
She trailed off somberly. Perhaps she'd lost her immediate family and been reduced in circumstances enough to fall back on relatives in the underside.
"Could I ask," Wynn began, reluctant to press, "where do you and yours reside? It might be near where I can find those I seek."
The old woman took a slow, haggard breath, answering in Numanese. "Go all the way down to Âyillichreg Bâyir … Limestone Mainway. Look for the cheag'anâkst called Kìnnébuây. It stays open all the time."
"Cheag'anâkst?" Wynn repeated, trying to decipher the term. "A greeting house?"
The old woman nodded. "The locals there may have heard of your friends."
"Thank you," Wynn replied.
She wanted to say more, or offer trade for welcome advice, but the old woman had already hobbled onward.
"What is this … greeting house?" Chane asked. "A tavern?"
"Not exactly," Wynn replied. "I've never been in one. It's closer to an eatery, lodge, and gathering place all in one."
"Then a common house."
She shook her head. "Dwarves have another word for that. And such places are for family or clan only, not outsiders."
She looked across the wide end chamber to where the tunnel began its downward curve. She'd hoped for more specific directions before going into the depths. Without a word, Wynn trudged onward, and Chane and Shade paced her on separate sides.
A few small crystals were set in the walls along the gradual downward spiral. In a while, another wide tunnel with a single row of columns shot off in what she assumed was the same direction as Oblique Mainway. She stepped through the end chamber to the first crystal-mounted pylon. The new tunnel wasn't Limestone Mainway.
Here, the look of the shops and structures were much the same as above. She peered back to where the curving tunnel joined the right side of the end chamber. On the left, its gradual spiral continued downward. And they were off again… .
Down to the next level, and the next, and yet again, but none of the names upon the first pylons depicted the symbols for Limestone Mainway. The lower they descended, the fewer crystals lit the spiraling tunnel, until there were none at all. Wynn took out her small cold lamp crystal and rubbed it briskly to provide light.
She stepped out through yet another end chamber, but this time, the curving tunnel didn't continue on its far side. It was the last place to look. Sure enough, the first column was marked for Limestone Mainway. It was nothing like Oblique Mainway far above.
Perhaps it had been named for the shots of limestone that ran through the wide tunnel's walls. There was an ocher dinginess to the whole place. It was brightly lit, as were all the main tunnels, but none of the excavated shops here were smoothly finished. All looked hastily cut for their space, with no thought for appearance. Some fronts were even made of old timber and piled stone. Dust and grime had built up in the crevices around column bases and where the mainway's walls met the floor.
And the only place with any signs of life was hard to miss.
A dingy banner too dull to read from a distance hung above a wide, plain arch with no door or curtain. Yellow light spilled out across the mainway's stone, as did a loud, raucous noise of deep voices that echoed in the tunnel.
Wynn took a step, eager to find someone to direct her. Chane's hand settled on her shoulder, and she looked up. He studied the greeting house's entrance, and a twist of distaste spread his thin-lipped mouth.
"I do not like the sound. You do not belong anywhere so … common."