The light of the ancient maces hanging from the walls reflects brightly off Nthazes’ feverishly sweaty brow. The same light in his blue eyes makes them look unnaturally electric—and they flick around without blinking. His movements are staccato and his speech comes in fits and jerks.

“It’s simple plan, see?” says Nthazes. “Really simple. Don’t know why we didn't think of it before.”

“Keep your voice down!” I warn him, alarmed. “Repeat what you just said, I didn't catch any of it.”

In fact I caught most of it: I just couldn’t quite believe my ears.

“Like I said, it’s simple. We go down to storeroom four. We stay there and wait for a single dwarf to show up. Need easy access, so we keep our helmets off. I wrestle him down after he attacks you. Then that’s him, that’s the killer, caught! All we do then is take his weapons and show it to the Runethane.”

“Slow down,” I whisper. “Are you saying we wait in the storeroom for him alone?”

“Not alone, we’ll be together.”

“And he attacks me?”

“Yes—has to be you. I’m not unwilling! But you’ve fought dwarves before and I haven’t. You can block his first strike.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You can, because you’ll be prepared. Yalthaz wasn’t expecting a dwarf, you will be.”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s safe. I’ll be right there nearby you. Even if you get stabbed, maybe I can push him away in time.”

“That’s crazy!”

“It’s our best chance, don’t you see?”

“It’s insane, Nthazes. You know it’s insane: that’s why you didn't bring Jaemes down.”

“He wouldn’t understand.”

“No, he would. He’s a human, but he understands. Better than you do! This won’t work. For one thing, there’s no guarantee the next attack will be in a storeroom.”

“The last three were!”

“Calm down!” I hold a finger to my lips to try and get him to quieten. “Secondly, we’re not allowed to wander around in pairs.”

“No. We’ll be breaking the rules, I know.”

“Not the rules: Runethane Yurok’s decrees.”

“It won’t matter once we’ve caught him.”

“Maybe not, but there’s no guarantee we’ll catch him, and especially not the first time. And have you thought about what might happen if someone else catches on to how we’re skulking around the storerooms on the regular? Commander Cathez can warn us not to have unfounded and morale-degrading conversations, but there's still plenty of suspicious glares flying around, and a good few discussions too. Hell, we’re proof of that.”

“This is our best chance!” Nthazes insists. “We need the weapon, and the best time to get it is mid-attack. Catch him bloody-handed.”

“If his hands are bloody, that’ll mean I’m dead. Or not, since his weapon doesn’t seem to spill any—that’s beside the point! Your plan won’t work.”

“It will,” he says stubbornly. “It has to. It’s our only chance.”

“Our only chance is observe carefully, think on the evidence, and proceed from there.”

“What bloody evidence? There isn’t any!”

“Not yet,” I say firmly. “There will be. Maybe soon.”

“You don’t believe that. You’re as frustrated as I am! Even more! You want to catch him, and quickly, don’t you? Prove to the Runethane you’re worth something!”

I frown. His last remark strikes me as odd.

“We’re trying to catch the killer to save lives,” I say. “We’re defending the fort.”

His bloodshot eyes blink rapidly. “Yes. Absolutely. I never said we weren’t.”

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“What’s gotten into you?” I ask slowly. “You really do look awful, you know.”

“Never mind that. What do you think of the plan? We need to go into more detail—”

“Stop,” I say. “Sit down, Nthazes.”

“I don’t need to—”

“Sit down!” I hiss, and I grab him by both shoulders and thrust him back onto the steps of the pit. He’s too surprised to resist. He makes to get up, but firmly I push him back down.

“I—” he begins.

“Calm down,” I say, trying to sound both stern and gently. “Take a deep breath.”

“I don’t—”

“Just calm the fuck down!” I snap.

His eyes widen and he shuts up—I’ve never spoken to him like that before.

“Calm down,” I say again, as gently as possible. I squat down opposite him. “Take a deep breath.”

He nods, then does so. The shine in his eyes seems to dull. He looks down at his boots and swallows.

“I need a drink,” he says shakily. “Alcohol deficiency, we’re not allowed it at the Shaft.”

“We’ll get one later,” I promise. “Now tell me: has something strange happened?”

“No, nothing. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“I don’t mean about the dwarves we’re keeping an eye on.” His remark about the Runethane is bothering me. “About anything else. Not even about the killer.”

“Nothing strange there either. Just the usual.”

“What do you mean, just the usual?”

“You know, the usual. My duties in the fort. It’s the same really, just busier.”

“...you don’t like your duties, do you?”

“We do what we have to do to protect," he says bitterly. "Whether we like it or not.”

“I imagine that’s a line Runethane Yurok says quite often.”

“It is.”

“You really don’t like it here, do you? You hate it.”

“Some of it. Not all.”

“But enough that you want to leave once this is over. And the only way you think you’ll get permission from the Runethane to do so is by catching the killer.”

“That’s not my only reason!” he snaps. “I care about my duty as well, and my comrades.”

“I never said you didn't. But you also want the Runethane’s favor.”

“Yes,” he sighs. “Yes, I do.”

“Up above isn’t so nice either, you know.”

He grimaces, then looks up at the ceiling to the roughly sealed hole from where I first fell. He seems to be looking through it, through the miles of rock above to other caverns where dwarves go about lives freely, taking on the jobs they please and venturing wherever they feel brave enough to go, perhaps even to the surface with its vivid green, many leaved mushrooms and bright-burning sun.

“It’d be different though,” he says quietly. “This life down here... It’s drudgery, occasionally fear when the darkness comes boiling up. I... I feel trapped. You wouldn’t know what it’s like, coming from your city, and that massive cavern, where you can see the sun, even.”

“I know exactly what it’s like. I used to be a miner.”

“Really?” he says, shocked.

“Yes. Funny, I think you’re the only one I’ve ever told that. Up in the city they just knew from my look.”

“You don’t look like a miner to me. Not that I’ve ever seen one.”

“Well, I was, and I was trapped even worse than you are. At least you can forge.”

“I suppose. But at least miners can get married, can't they? And when you’re on break visit... I don’t know, shops and things, taverns. Those places with the pretty ladies, even.”

“We didn't have very many breaks, and not much money either.”

“We don’t have any money. Another one of the Runethane’s traditions: another barrier to stop us being able to leave.”

“You could get a job fairly easily in one of the other realms. Guarding ore caravans, or hunting beasts, or maybe just helping around a guild willing to take you in.”

“I only know that from talking to you. The ideas we get about the world up above from the Runethane are that it’s a treacherous pit of snakes where the dwarves would sooner steal from you than help you.”

I shake my head in disgust. “Does he believe that himself?”

“Probably. I don’t think he’d lie to us on purpose. I guess he was told the exact same things back when he was a runeknight, before his predecessor died, and has no reason to disbelieve them.”

“Well, now that you know it’s not so bad up there, what’s to stop you leaving?”

“My duty. I don’t want to disappoint our comrades. I don’t want to disappoint my Runethane either—for all his flaws, he’s still Runethane. If I’m going to leave, I want to do it with his permission, and the acceptance of everyone here.”

I nod, feeling slightly ashamed of how I implied he might abandon his duty.

“So I want to catch the killer as soon as we can,” he says. “Will you help me?”

“I already am.”

“I mean with my idea.”

I scratch my beard. “Look, I mean... It’s crazy. I don’t think it’ll work.”

“Is sitting around keeping an eye on the others working? Is looking for evidence that doesn’t exist working?”

He’s right: it isn’t. “No,” I admit. “I suppose not.”

“So will you help?”

“I’ll think about it,” I promise. “And try to come up with some way to make it less suspicious and dangerous.”

He nods. “Thanks. And thanks for calming me down.”

“It’s no trouble. You’re my friend. It’s the least I can do, especially with all the help you’re giving me about my amulet.”

“How’s that coming along, by the way?”

“I’ve nearly finalized the poems.”

“Don’t overthink them. They need to come from the heart.”

“I guess.”

“They do,” he says firmly. “When you put chisel to gem, just let the runes flow. Don’t be scared to make mistakes: that’s when you’re most likely to make them.”

“I’ll try.”

“You’ll succeed,” he says, and he smiles the kind smile I haven’t seen on his face since the killings began. “You’re a fine runeknight.”

“You too.”