At first, Royce caught a glimpse of orange and blue through the leaves and almost thought it was nothing more than a bluebird, but then it shifted. Far too large to be a bird, Royce drew closer and saw a light brown braided beard, a broad flat nose, a blue leather vest, large black boots, and a bright orange shirt with puffed sleeves.
“Magnus!” Royce greeted the dwarf loudly, causing him to stumble and fall out of the bramble. He slipped backward off the little grassy ledge and fell on his back on the bare rock not far from where Esrahaddon sat. With the wind knocked out of him, the dwarf lay gasping for breath.
Royce leapt down and placed his dagger to the dwarf’s throat.
“A lot of people have been looking for you,” Royce told him menacingly. “I have to admit, I rather wanted to see you again myself to thank you for all the help you gave me in Essendon Castle.”
“Don’t tell me this is the dwarf that killed King Amrath of Melengar?” Esrahaddon asked.
“His name is Magnus, or at least that is what Percy Braga called him. He’s a master trap builder and stone carver, isn’t that right?”
“It’s my business!” the dwarf protested, still struggling for air. “I’m a craftsman. I take jobs the same as you. You can’t fault a guy for working.”
“I almost died due to your work,” Royce told him. “And you killed the king. Alric will be very pleased when I tell him I finally eliminated you. And as I recall there’s a price on your head.”
“Wait—hang on!” Magnus shouted. “It was nothing personal. Can you tell me you never killed anyone for money, Royce?”
Royce hesitated.
“Yes, I know who you are,” the dwarf told him. “I wanted to find out who beat my trap. You used to work for the Black Diamond and not as a delivery boy either. It was my job, I tell you. I don’t care about politics, or Braga, or Essendon.”
“I suspect he’s telling the truth,” Esrahaddon said. “I’ve never known a dwarf to care at all for the affairs of humans beyond the coin they can obtain.”
“See, he knows what I am saying. You can let me go.”
“I said you were telling the truth, not that he should let you live. In fact, now that I can see you have been eavesdropping on our conversations, I have to encourage the notion of ending your life. I can’t be sure how much you heard.”
“What?” the dwarf cried.
“After slitting his throat you can just roll his little body off the ledge here.” The wizard stepped up and looked over the cliff.
“No,” Royce replied, “it will be better to toss him off the falls. He’s not that heavy; his body will likely carry all the way to the Goblin Sea.”
“Do you need his head?” Esrahaddon asked. “To take back to Alric?”
“It would be nice, but I’m not carrying a severed head for a week while traveling through those woods. It would draw every fly for miles and it would stink after a few hours. Trust me, I speak from experience.”
The dwarf looked at both of them in horror.
“No! No!” he shouted in panic as Royce pressed his blade to his neck. “I can help you. I can show you how to get to the tower!”
Royce looked at the wizard who appeared skeptical.
“For the love of Drome. I’m a dwarf. I know stone. I know rock. I know where the tunnel to the tower is.”
Royce relaxed his dagger.
“Let me live and I’ll show it to you,” he turned his head toward Esrahaddon. “And as for what I heard, I care nothing about the affairs of wizards and men. I’ll never say a word. If you know dwarves, well then you know we’re a lot like stone when we choose to be.”
“So there is a tunnel,” Royce said.
“Of course there is.”
“Before I decide,” Royce asked, “what are you doing here?”
“I was finishing another job, that’s all.”
“And what was this job?”
“Nothing sinister, I just made a sword for a guy.”
“All the way out here? Who is this person?”
“Lord Rufus somebody, I was hired to make it and deliver it to him here, honest, no traps, no killings.”
Royce heard the sound of footfalls. Someone was running up the trail. Thinking it might be the dwarf’s associates, he slipped behind Magnus. He gripped his hair, pulled his head back, and prepared to slit his throat.
“Royce!” Tad Bothwick shouted up to them from down near the water.
“What is it, Tad?” he asked cautiously.
“Hadrian sent me. He says you should come back to the village right away, but that Esra should steer clear.”
“Why?” the wizard asked.
“Hadrian said to tell you that the Church of Nyphron just arrived.”
“The church?” Esrahaddon muttered. “Here?”
“Is there a Lord Rufus with them?” Royce asked.
“Could be. There’s a whole lot of fancy folk around. Must be at least one lord in the bunch.”
“Any idea why they’re here, Tad?”
“Nope.”
“You might want to make yourself scarce,” Royce told the wizard. “Someone might have mentioned your name. I’ll go see what’s happening. In the meantime,” he looked down at the dwarf, “your death sentence has been suspended. This kindly old man is going to watch you this afternoon, and you’re going to stay right here. Then later you’re going to show us where this tunnel is and if you’re telling the truth about knowing, then you live. Anything short of that and you’re going over the falls in two pieces. Agreed? Good.” He looked back at the wizard, “Want me to tie him up or just hit him over the head with a rock?” Royce asked, panicking the dwarf again.
“Won’t be necessary, Magnus here looks like the honorable type. Besides, I can still manage a few surprisingly unpleasant things. Do you know what it is like to have live ants trapped inside your head?”
The dwarf did not move or speak. Royce searched him. He found a belt under his clothes with little hammers and some rock shaping tools and a dagger. Royce looked at the dagger, surprised.
“I tried copying it,” the dwarf told him nervously. “It’s not very good, I was working from memory.”
Royce compared it to his own dagger. The two were very similar in design, though the blades were clearly different. Royce’s weapon was made of an almost translucent metal that shimmered in the light while Magnus’ dagger seemed dull and heavy by comparison. The thief threw the dagger over the cliff.
“That’s a magnificent weapon you have,” the dwarf told him, his eyes mesmerized by the blade that a moment before had been at his throat. “It’s a Tur blade, isn’t it?”
Royce ignored him and spoke to Esrahaddon. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll be back later.”
———
Arista took her seat on the balcony above the entrance to the great hall of the manor house, along with the entourage of the archbishop, which included Sauly and Sentinel Luis Guy. It was a very small balcony created of rough logs and thick ropes, where only a few could fit, but Bernice managed to squeeze her way in and remained standing just behind her. Having Bernice hovering out of sight was as irritating as a mosquito in the dark.