I step away from the door to allow Hayhek to enter. Nazak walks in right after him, glaring as if to warn me from challenging his entry.

“I will be present for your conversation,” he says. “This dwarf's friendliness confuses and raises my suspicions. I do not trust that you aren't plotting some way to escape.”

“I assure you that we are far from friends,” Hayhek says. “We have things to talk about. That is all. Catching up to do.”

“I don't see why.”

“I owe it to him.”

Nazak scowls. “You, owe something to the traitor? What? And why?”

“I owe him a conversation for things that happened long ago.”

“Be reminded that everything you say will be reported to our Runethane. You know of Zathar's importance.”

“I know,” says Hayhek. “And I also know that you are all in my debt, as you said before, for informing Vanerak about whose fault it was the black dragon grew so powerful.”

“It would have gotten out eventually.”

“Maybe, maybe not. As it stands however, I do have permission from the Runethane to speak to Zathar.”

Nazak gestures to the chair across from me. “Get on with it then.”

He sits down and I sit opposite. I look at him. My first impressions were correct: he does look healthier than when I last knew him. He hasn't aged a day—or maybe he has aged, a few years backward. The strands of blonde in his beard as the same color as his son's hair was.

“I should apologize again,” I say. I swallow. “I am sorry about Yezakh. I am as sorry about him as I am about the black dragon.”

He observes me for a few seconds, frowning.

“Truly I am sorry,” I repeat. “Honestly sorry, from the depths of my heart. If there was any way to make it up to you I would, although I know there is not.”

He stares at me for a few seconds more, then says: “You do sound sorry.”

“I am. Truly and honestly.” I know I'm repeating myself, but there isn't anything else to say. “I'm truly sorry and if there's any way for me to make it up to you, I will.”

He purses his lips and looks down at the table. His eyes are boring into the stone surface. I prepare myself for an outburst of rage—yet when he looks up I see only a little anger in his eyes.

“You have made some of it up to me, Zathar. I want to show you something.”

He loosens the front of his breastplate, which is of well-enruned tungsten, embedded here and there with small tear-cut rubies like red candleflames. He reaches in, pulls out an amulet on a chain and holds it out to me in his palms.

“This is my amulet of unaging.”

I lean in a little, though I'm careful not to lean in so close that I look rude. My eyes widen to drink in the beauty—the jewel is hytrigite, a sphere of dark blue with a shining starburst in the middle, a whole two centimeters in diameter. The star's light is caught by thin runes which seem to dance as I lean to the right and left to try and see as much of it as possible. The setting is a thin ring of silver wire.

It is a truly fine craft, and to see such made by Hayhek, the eighth or seventh degree who struggled so hard in the caverns to craft a simple suit of steel, astounds me.

“You have worked hard,” I say simply.

“It's not just my hard work I have to thank,” he says. “You were the one who showed me what forging could be.”

I shake my head. “I was nothing back there. I was only a tenth degree.”

“But you were better than me. Don't try to deny it.”

“A little, perhaps.”

“A lot. For me back then, nothing ever came together in the forge, not really. I don't know why. I think I was too caught up in worrying about getting things as the textbooks and my older guildmates said they ought to be.”

He puts the amulet back into his armor and tightens his breastplate up again, then continues.

“After the journey down to Allabrast, I was given a reward for telling honored Vanerak about you stealing the key.” He pauses. “I won't apologize for that. He needed to be told, for everyone's sakes.”

“I don't want nor need an apology. I have not tried to hide my crime since then, Hayhek. I even confessed it. I was ready to die for it.”

“That is good to hear. You have changed, then.”

“Only a little, I fear.”

“We will see. As I was saying, after we came to Allabrast, I decided to make a fresh start with my forging, to throw out what I thought I knew, to try and forge more like you did. You never seemed to care about precedent—you did what you thought would work best. That's the impression I always got.”

“I suppose that's true,” I say. “I'm glad I ended up being a little help, then.”

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“More than a little. This amulet—the best thing I've ever forged, by a long way too—I was able to forge because of the time we spent together. Without it I'd be bent and gray, shuffling toward the end of my life. But I'm not—I'm a fifth degree, hale and healthy, and I can support my wife, ailing now, and my daughters. Teach them as well—their mother didn't want them to become initiates, and understandably—but I disagreed. Dragons don't care what dwarves they kill. So every dwarf should strive to forge his or her own armor.”

He sits back and breathes heavily for a while. I think he's been planning out this speech for a while, maybe since even before my trial in Allabrast. I open my mouth to make a reply, but close it, for it looks as if he still has more to say.

“I still can't forgive you fully,” he says. He scowls at me, though I get the feeling that the scowl is also directed at himself, that he's angry at the fact he's able to forgive me even a little. “Not so much for Yezakh's death. You never lied when you said you saved both of us. But in the end he ended up sacrificing himself for a dragon, and the black dragon at that. It's a stain on his honor. One he'll never be able to make back up.”

I look down.

“Yet all the same,” Hayhek sighs, “I also think he'd be proud of the runeknight I've become. Once he became old enough to see what I was, a joke, he never really respected me. Who would want a joke for a father? But now I'm a fifth degree. That's a respectable rank no matter how long it takes you to get there. A fifth degree has to be a skilled smith and a fine warrior. And I think I can call myself both now.”

“You can,” I say. “And you could back in the caves as well, and before then. You were never a joke. It was you who trained me into shape, remember?”

He makes a dismissive gesture. “You were like metal that forges itself.”

“You still guided me. And treated me like an equal despite the fact I was a miner. Few runeknights would ever do that.”

“You were an initiate at that time,” he points out. “Others showed you kindness as well.”

“Even so, you were one of the first. And then I repaid you by... Again, I'm truly sorry. If there's anything I can do, anything to help you further, even a little, I'll do it if it's within my power.”

“You are to do as our Runethane orders,” snaps Nazak. “Not to do errands for your friends.”

I glare up at him with as much anger as I dare to show. “Our Runethane wishes for me to help all dwarfkind through my runes. And I plan to do so.”

“You should be more careful about how you speak.”

“I speak only the truth, honored runeknight.”

“I am not going to ask you for any personal favors,” Hayhek says quickly, giving Nazak a worried glance. “I only wanted to say my piece, that's all. I wanted you to know that even if you hurt me, you helped me also. I'm a proper runeknight thanks to you. You made me suffer, but you helped me too. You need to know that.”

“I...” I struggle to find the words. “I'm thankful for you telling me. My guilt... It's not an easy thing to bear. Not that I'm complaining. I deserve it, every ounce of it, every nightmare it gives me. Even so, I'm grateful for the slightest relief.”

“I'm happy to have given you some.”

Our conversation pauses. Nazak looks impatiently at the door, but Hayhek doesn't budge. He seems reluctant to leave me—in his position I think I would want to get away as soon as possible, but something is keeping him welded to the chair. He is frowning.

“Our job down here is difficult,” he says suddenly, and he looks into my eyes. “The magma is hot, and what's in it is deadly.”

“You mean the demons?”

He shudders. “It's bad luck to talk about those.”

“I'm sorry. I ought to have guessed.”

“No, no. You just came down here.”

“I expect I'll learn about them soon enough.”

“There's no doubt about that. Even if the Runethane keeps you up here, you'll learn about what they are soon enough. But I don't want to talk about them.”

“I'm not asking you to.”

“I think there is a favor I'd like to ask, actually. But not a personal one.”

“I'll do anything.”

He hesitates a little, considering his next words. “You know,” he says slowly. “The dwarves down here at the magma sea don't despise you as much as you might think.”

I frown. “Really?”

“Most still despise you, don't get me wrong.”

“I don't blame them.”

“It's just that our job is hard and difficult, and deadly, so we don't have much time to waste on hate. Plus many of the miners aren't from our original realm, but have been hired from the realms to the up and north of here, and they're young—they were beardless when the black dragon struck. It was terrible news to them of course, yet very distant. You're not quite a real figure to them, you might say. A part of history, recent and living history, but history all the same.”

“That so?” Nazak spits. “They need to be educated properly. Fucking miners. I will teach them myself.”

“They do not like him either!” Hayhek says. “He just isn't quite real to them.”

“And what good will it do Zathar to know this, fifth degree? You do understand that his residing here is a cruel punishment. He is not meant to have comforters.”

“I understand that.” To my surprise, Hayhek suddenly turns to meet Nazak's angry dark eyes. “What I'm about to propose,” he says, with force, “Will be a benefit to our efforts—our efforts which the Runethane deems to be of the utmost importance.”

“What is it?” I ask, though I think I can guess.

“Heat is our main problem down here,” says Hayhek. “If you could make runes that somehow work better to protect us from it, it would be a great help. A lot of the runeknights have spoken about this over meals. About how good it would be if our armor kept out the heat better. About if maybe your power could help with this. Of course I don't know how your power works, if this is even possible, but—”

“Stop right there!” says Nazak. “Zathar is to forge what our Runethane orders and nothing more.”

“He has given me leeway to forge whatever runes I wish,” I say.

“He would not be happy were he to know you let a fifth degree choose your runes!”

“I choose to help him myself. And not just him, but all the runeknights down here. If their job is really as important as Vanerak says it is, then why would he be angry at my helping it?”

Nazak grits his teeth; he has no reply.

I bow to Hayhek. “I will grant your request. My first runes will be ones to keep out the heat. I don't know quite what they will be yet, but that's the purpose I'll work toward.”

“Only if the Runethane gives permission,” Hayhek says. “Please don't obey our wishes over his. That'll just cause trouble for us.”

“I'll make sure he knows,” I say. “Nazak, if you would be so kind as to tell him?”

His face is twisted with anger—it hits me that although he may have control over me, by the nature of my position, I also have control over him. It is a fact that I, the traitor, am more important to Vanerak than he, his loyal soldier is. He snarls his next words:

“Like I said, I will tell him everything, as is my duty.”

“Thank you,” I say, with proper deference and respect. I do not want to make him too angry.

“Thank you, Zathar,” says Hayhek. “You have no idea how cruel the magma seas can be. Anything to make our lives and work a little easier will never be forgotten.”

“I will try my utmost to grant your request.”

Hayhek stands up and reaches out a hand. I take it and shake firmly.

“We cannot be friends,” he says. “But all the same I will put a good word in for you now and again. You made me suffer, but you also helped me a great deal. I suppose that's in your nature—either you do great things or terrible. Nothing in between.”

Nazak escorts him out. I sit back down at my desk, feeling a great deal better about myself all of a sudden. I may have done terrible things, hurt and even killed many who did not deserve it—but I am capable of good as well.

I take out some fresh sheafs of paper and begin to draft ideas for how to cool off the terrible heat of magma.