I’m drinking my beer and tucking into a pork and mushroom stew after a long session in the forges—where I was trying to figure out how to shape my breastplate and waist plates—when I finally get to reunite with Nthazes.
“Zathar!” He hurries toward my table, looking apologetic. “Finally. I’m sorry, I spend nearly all my time down at the Shaft. I volunteered to come up on the relief force, but Hraroth denied me.”
I smile and shake my head. “I’ve heard. No need to apologize. I’m just glad nothing happened to you down here.”
“And I’m glad you made it out of all that unscathed.”
He sits down and takes off his helmet. He looks tired, with dark bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep. His eyes are red, too, and his skin looks a little grayish; his beard is also unkempt when usually it’s neatly combed. Makes sense: he must be on duty nearly constantly.
“It was a nightmare,” I tell him. “Though I’m sure you’ve already heard all about it.”
“From several. Thirty-one dead?” He shakes his head. “I can barely believe it. Was down at the Shaft when the Runethane spoke to you all, but we had a chance to see the bodies for ourselves before they were interred. Unbelievable.”
“I suppose no one here has ever seen death on that scale before.”
“Apart from you, no. I suppose you’re used to the kind of chaos you faced up there—I guess it wasn’t just luck that you survived.”
“It was mostly luck. If I’d been in squad six...”
“Horrible. And on top of everything else... The killer.”
I look around. The meal hall is less crowded than usual, because the forge hall is so busy, and we’re relatively separated from the other dwarves supping here. Even so, I make sure to lower my voice.
“I’ve narrowed it down,” I whisper.
“The suspects? To whom?”
“Fjalar and Galar.”
“Those two? Why them?”
“Didn't you hear? Utlock was lying next to Fjalar when he was killed. And Galar was standing guard over his brother too.”
He shakes his head. “I didn't hear that detail. We shouldn’t discuss that here, though.”
“Of course.”
“But I understand why you’re so eager to tell me. That is suspicious, especially considering how Galar confronted you that time.”
“It’s not clean-cut. There’s a few problems, things we’ll have to puzzle out. When can you come down to the forges with Jaemes?”
“Are you sure that’s the best place? Rumors and suspicion will start to pick up again soon, I’m sure of it. I don’t think the three of us should be seen together.”
“The forges are the only place we won’t be overheard.”
“What about our quarters? They’re off limits; no one will be there.”
“Won’t we get caught?”
“Not if Belthur comes through. His friend, Lothan, was up on the expedition with you, do you remember?”
“Yes. He fell and broke his legs.”
“Neither are too happy about how the expedition went. Belthur’s been vocal about it, even complaining to Hraroth. The commander shut him down, of course—though not as strongly as he might have. Anyway, what I’m saying is: they’re not happy with the Runethane and his decrees. I’ve talked to them, and they’ve agreed to cover for us if we want to undertake any rule-breaking of our own.”
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“Really? That’s good news—if you’re sure we can trust them.”
“I think we can. And if you come up with any plausible ideas, I want to share them with Belthur, Lothan, and the rest of their group as well.”
“Maybe. We’ll see how good you think my theories are first. I don’t want to risk anyone getting falsely accused. If such a thing got back to the Runethane...”
“I understand. He’s been... I won’t say here. Anyway, we’ll see what Jaemes thinks about your ideas too.”
He grabs a beer mug and some cold stew for himself and we raise our voices to talk about forging, partly to alleviate suspicion—him coming here, whispering to me, then leaving straight away would be sure to raise eyebrows—but also simply because I want advice for my crafting. He’s already said all he can about the amulet, but I also have a few questions about how best to do my breastplate, and many about how best to remake my runic ears.
He launches into a complex lecture about how the runes alter the air that runs over them, going into deep detail about how minor variations in stroke size can cause counterintuitive effects, and also recommends that I use ruby and sapphire as well as garnet, if I can afford it.
I've already spent too much of my honor, unfortunately.
For my side of the conversation, I give a full account of what happened up with the white jelly. There isn’t much he hasn’t already heard, but he seems to find my point of view valuable all the same. I make sure especially to give him plenty of detail about the twins and the circumstances of the killing. He nods thoughtfully. I hope he’ll uncover some detail or oddity I’ve missed.
We finish our beers and our meals and say goodbye to each other; he heads back to the Shaft with one group and I have a quick sleep. When I wake up, there’s a few dwarves ready to go down to the forges and so I travel down with them.
The fort seems deathly quiet without my runic ears equipped. It’s slightly unnerving, frankly. After spending so long becoming attuned to the shape of the walls and how each turn sounds, suddenly not being able to hear it all disorientates me, despite the fact I can find my way perfectly well with my torch.
New runic ears will be welcome, both as a replacement for sight when it’s too dark or bright for my eyes, and a supplement to my sight when it isn’t. And I need them for my forging as well, of course. Especially if we’re going to be using almergris.
That was another subject I brought up to Nthazes back there. How it’s used, and why it’s so dangerous.
It is blinding. Hold your gaze on hot almergris for just half a second, and the shape of the rune you are grafting will be burnt into your eye near permanently. A full second, or maybe just three quarters of a second, and the damage will be fully permanent.
Not looking would seem the simple solution: but it burns hotter than incandesite and sparks terribly if you touch it the wrong way. You must be able to see or hear what you are doing precisely, so if your runic ears aren't well-crafted enough for you to hear down to the millimeter scale, mutilation is certain.
I arrive in the forges, wait impatiently for my turn, then finally get to descend into the comforting warmth. I lay out my titanium sheets and, after thinking on Nthazes advice, make a final decision about the shape of my breastplate and the plates that’ll hang around my waist.
After cutting the basic shapes out, I set them aside. It’s the offcuts I want right now. I scrub them very thoroughly in water, do the same with the rejected rings of chainmail I have from when I made my gauntlets. Offcuts and rings both go into a large crucible. All this time, the furnace has been heating up to as hot as it will go, and I place the crucible right at the back nearest the flames.
While the metal is melting, I inspect my broken runic ears once more. There’s definitely room to improve my technique. The way I designed the whorls was good enough for a beginner, but thanks to the advanced information Nthazes has given me to think about, and all my observations of the other runeknights’ ears throughout my time down here, I can see a dozen better ways I could have crafted them.
I inspect the crucible and see that the titanium has become a glowing yellow liquid. I heat a polished stone mold, shallow and square, then pour the metal into it, making sure the layer is as smooth as possible. It mustn’t cool unevenly, so I place the flat lid that goes with the mold over the top.
Tensely, I wait. Re-using metal was considered a bit beneath the dwarves up in Thanerzak’s realm, for if you were a successful runeknight, you really ought to have had enough money to simply buy more. Any offcuts were donated back to the smelteries, or else sold for a pittance to common metalworkers to make cutlery and trinkets for children out of.
As such, I’ve never actually smelted anything before, though I’m familiar with the process. When I take off the lid, I breath a sigh of relief. The sheet seems to be smooth and even in color. I turn the still-hot sheet out and hold it up to inspect further.
Looks fine. I wipe my sweaty brow. There doesn’t seem to be any obvious impurities. Probably it isn't as strong as stuff made at a proper, industrial smeltery under the watchful eyes of someone who really knows their business, but runic ears are delicate anyway, and besides, the main function of them comes from their runes.
I divide the rectangle into two triangles and lay them down next to each other. I take out some quizik, incandesite, the gold wire that will become the runes, and two dozen garnets. I look over everything and rub my hands together. This’ll be a tough job, requiring all of my concentration.
Hopefully my worries about the killer won’t distract me.