Fletcher hushed her, for Ignatius had looked below him. Dozens of dwarves were gathered there, seated on benches made of roughly hewn stone. In the middle, there was a raised stone platform, upon which a dwarf stood. Fletcher could barely make out his booming voice.
‘We need to get closer. I can’t hear what he’s saying,’ Fletcher murmured, directing Ignatius to look around the cavern. The walls were illuminated by the torches flickering light, there was no way the demon could climb down them without being seen.
‘Get him to climb down that,’ Sylva suggested, pointing at a large stalactite that extended a third of the way to the base of the cavern.
Fletcher ordered Ignatius down the pointed stone, urging him to be careful. Then he closed his eyes and began to whisper the words he heard.
‘. . . I say again to you, the time is ripe for rebellion! We have not been in a better position for two thousand years. Hominum’s army is caught between two wars, the elves to the north and the orcs to the south. They cannot fight a third. From a tactical point of view, we are well placed to storm the palace and hold the King and his father hostage.’
The speaker was a large, heavyset dwarf with a commanding presence. He stared down his nose at the seated dwarves, then descended the platform steps. Another dwarf waited below, this one older, with grey streaks in his beard. He shook the younger dwarf’s hand and then took his place on the rostrum.
‘Thank you, Ulfr, for those rousing words. You speak the truth, but there is more to it than that. As you all know, we dwarves are the only manufacturers of firearms. At this moment, nine out of every ten men in Hominum’s army are only trained in the art of loading and firing a musket, with no armour, nor anything more than a bayonet for close-quarters combat. If we were to cut off their weapons supply, they would become nothing more than a poorly equipped, untrained militia. Another key advantage that cannot be overlooked . . .’
His words drew cheers from some of the dwarves and soon they began chanting his name. ‘Hakon! Hakon!’
But many dwarves remained silent, staring up at him with their arms crossed. Clearly, the crowd was divided.
‘Another advantage, perhaps our greatest of all, is ammunition. The Pasha mines are controlled by our allies and worked by dwarven miners. It is dwarves who manufacture the gunpowder and the lead bullets. Without these two resources, the muskets that Hominum already have will be useless. Once they run out of their ammunition stockpiles . . . we will win this war!’
More cheers followed, but this time there were boos as well. A dwarf leaped from his seat and rushed on to the stage. He shook Hakon’s hand and whispered in his ear.
‘It’s Othello!’ Sylva gasped.
Fletcher shook his head.
‘No, it’s not, I can tell from the way his hair has been braided. Othello has a twin, remember? His name is Atilla and he hates humanity with a passion.’
‘Traitors and cowards!’ Atilla bellowed as Fletcher tuned in again. ‘Are you true dwarves . . . or half-men?’
Several dwarves leaped up in anger, shouting so loudly that Fletcher could almost hear the echoes from the cave below where he and Sylva sat.
‘Have you not felt the batons of the Pinkertons? How many of you have had your hard earned money extorted from you? Who here has not had a son or brother thrown in jail by a dwarf-hating judge? Do you like having to go crawling to the King if you want more than one child?’
The yelling almost doubled in volume as dwarves leaped to their feet and bellowed in anger.
Suddenly, a guttural roar thundered through the cave, silencing the noise.
‘Enough!’ a familiar voice shouted. Othello pushed his way through the crowd and mounted the stairs two at a time. Solomon, the source of the roar, followed him.
‘I am Othello Thorsager, first dwarven officer in Hominum and the first summoner of our kind. I claim the right to speak.’
‘Get on with it then, human lover,’ Atilla shouted.
‘We cannot go to war with Hominum,’ Othello said in a loud, clear voice. ‘King Harold is giving us a chance for equality, don’t you see? If we go to war we will lose, without a shadow of a doubt. Hominum’s army alone outnumbers the dwarven population by ten to one. Most dwarves of fighting age are on their way to be trained on the elven front, surrounded by veteran soldiers and as far from Corcillum as is possible. Do you think you can storm the palace with the hundred or so dwarven men left?’
‘If we must!’ shouted Hakon, spurring on shouts of agreement from his supporters.