Fior led them to a large, open door and stepped to the side, gesturing for them to enter. The room beyond was massive, more than a thousand feet long and two hundred feet wide, with high cathedral ceilings adorned with gold and silver arches that wound around each other in a stunning display. The floors were white marble and the walls platinum, so highly polished that they reflected the room in a way that added to its grand appearance. More than three hundred large dwarf statues lined both sides of the room, standing over ten feet tall. These were the past kings of Dy-Kore, their exact likenesses carved into the stone with great precision.
“This is the Chamber of the Kings.” Fior’s voice echoed from behind them. “Within each statue lies the king depicted.”
“The most magnificent sight I have ever seen,” Whill said truthfully. He looked to his right at the first and largest statue of them all. The image that stared down at him was that of a bald, sturdy-looking dwarf with a long, braided beard. In his left hand was a massive axe, and in his right was the curving horn of a dragon. Below the statue sat a large black marble plaque. Its Dwarvish words, written in diamond dust, read
Fior led them down the great chamber past dozens of similar statues, to where King Ky’Ell sat waiting upon his throne. To his right and left were two dwarves, dressed as Fior was. Four steps led to Ky’Ell’s throne, and upon that high perch sat a marvelous chair of gold. Ky’Ell was big by dwarf standards, and the elevated throne only intensified his size. His hair was grey, as was his long beard, which in his seated position fell below his feet. His eyes were blue and alert, watching keenly behind a wide nose. At first glance he seemed a stern and serious dwarf, even mean, but as Whill and Abram stopped before him, his eyebrows shot upward and a wide smile spread from under his thick beard.
Abram slammed his right fist to his chest and bowed slightly. “Ky’Ell, my friend, it is good to see you once again.”
The king returned the gesture and in a deep and powerful voice responded, “An’ you, Abram, dwarf friend. I am glad to see that the many rumors o’ yer death are false, fer such a loss to the world o’ men would be a grievous loss indeed.”
Abram laughed. “If I had a gold coin for every rumor of my demise, I would be the envy of kings.”
The king laughed, his great booming voice echoing throughout the chamber. As the laughter died away, Whill took the opportunity to greet him. He slammed his right fist to his chest in the sign of respect and bowed slightly. “It is an honor to meet the great king of Dy-Kore.”
To Whill’s utter amazement, the king returned the gesture, a great honor from a king of dwarves. “’Tis I who am honored to finally meet the rightful king o’ Uthen-Arden. I’ve heard much of ye from Abram, Whill. He’s indeed done a good job of training ye. I hear tell from Roakore that ye slew three Draggard single-handed. Ye indeed are a great warrior o’ men, an’ ye’ll be a great king in yer time.”
Whill was barely used to the idea of being a king, and hearing himself spoken of in such a way made him uncomfortable. “Thank you, good king.”
After a moment of silence, which made Whill even more uncomfortable, Ky’Ell rose from his throne and descended the four steps. “Let us eat, then. Ye must be starved from yer journey.”
With that he led Abram and Whill through a passage to the right of the throne and down a wide tunnel. They soon stepped into a huge dining room. The room was half the length of the Chamber of Kings, but like that chamber this room boasted highly polished floors of marble. Its walls were adorned with great banners and paintings of kings of old. Five massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and at the center of the right wall sat a giant fire place, more than twenty feet wide. At the center of the long room was a beautiful stone dining table, exquisitely crafted and adorned with various gems and precious stones. Its wooden chairs were no less beautiful, intricately carved as they were, with silver trim and blue satin cushions. The stone table could seat over five hundred, but Whill found that only four places had been set for breakfast at the end closest them.
Whill assumed that the fourth chair meant that Fior would be joining them, but was happy to see Roakore enter the room behind them. The king sat and bade the three to do the same. Fior gave a small bow and exited the room as four dwarf maidens entered. Whill looked in wonder at the sight of the dwarf women. To his knowledge, no man had ever laid eyes upon a female dwarf, and they were mentioned rarely in any accounts of the dwarves he had ever read. Whill suddenly felt embarrassed by his gawking. The king noticed his reaction but only grinned. The women were not bearded, as many of the stories told, nor were they in any way ugly. They were shorter than the male dwarves, a foot shorter on average. They had thick, long, flowing hair put up with ribbons to prevent it from dragging on the floor. They wore long dresses and aprons over their plump figures. Merry cheeks accompanied warm smiles as they set the many dishes out before the diners. Whill thought to himself that at any moment one of them would fall over under the weight of their huge bosoms, and he fought off a chuckle.
When the dishes were all set, the maidens bowed slightly and with wide smiles exited the room the way they had come.
“Our women are built as sturdy as the mountains themselves,” noted the king. “You should know, Whill, that you are one of the very few outsiders who has ever laid eyes upon them. We love and guard our women as fiercely as we do our treasure, for they are the givers of life, the greatest gift bestowed upon us from the gods.”
Whill regretted his earlier thoughts and wondered for a foolish moment if the king had read his mind. “I am honored once again, good king. They are indeed a treasure.”
The king eyed Whill for a moment. “Fret not, young Whill, fer years I too have pondered the mystery o’ how they stay on their feet.”
Whill flushed as he realized that his eyes had given him away. He began to stutter a response but the king interrupted. “But how I do love to investigate the many aspects o’that mystery!” His chuckle grew into all-out, barrel-bellied laughter. Abram and Roakore joined in and the room soon filled with the echoes of laughter, including Whill’s.
As the laughter finally died down the king took a piece of roasted duck from one of the dishes and bit into it fiercely. “Eat up, friends, and tell me the tale o’ your meeting and the battle with the Draggard.”
As they ate, Whill, Abram, and Roakore took turns telling the tale. The food was good and the wine sweet. Before them sat a feast of roasted duck, boiled goose eggs, strips of fried wild boar, ham, cakes, pastries, coffee, juices, goat’s and cow’s milk, and various fruits and bread. Whill found that he had a monstrous appetite, and knew that it was due to the healing of his leg. The king listened intently, complimenting Whill’s genius in using the diamonds as bait, and grunting approvingly at the ways the Draggard had been dispatched.
When they had finished eating, Abram took out his pipe, as was his habit after a good meal, and so did Roakore and Ky’Ell. The king gestured to Whill with his pipe. “Do ye smoke, lad?”
Hoping not to offend him, Whill answered truthfully, “No, thank you. I never acquired a taste for it myself, but I do enjoy the smell of another’s.”
“Very well.” The king puffed and blew a large smoke-ring into the air, and quickly sent another smaller one through the middle.
“Now for business.” He sat up in his chair. “What of the invitation I have received from Kell-Torrey?” He asked Abram.