The door to the Silver Crown Inn creaked open to a wall of heat, laughter, and the rich scent of venison stew. Twelve pairs of boots stamped against the wood-planked floor in unison as we stepped inside. Clang-clang-clang! A bearded dwarf by the door hammered a rusty bell that dangled from the ceiling beam. "Tall ones! Make room, ye lumbering oafs!"

Dwarves swiveled on their benches, their braided beads clacking. For a moment, I froze, but then a round-cheeked woman in a gravy-splattered apron hurled a bread roll at my chest. "Eat, stranger! Yer thinner than an orc's morals!"

Seraphina snorted, plucking the roll from my hands. "Charming," she muttered, but I saw the way her shoulders relaxed as the dwarves began thumping their tankards, chanting, "Ale for the waifs! Ale for the waifs!"

The hearth dominated the left wall, its flames licking at three big cauldrons suspended from blackened chains. One bubbled with orange stew and chunks of carrot bobbed to the surface. Another held what looked like peppered rabbit swimming in dark gravy. The third... I squinted. Were those entire potatoes floating in there?

"Aye, that's Ghostspud Delight right there, that is!" A dwarf with salt and iron braids shoved a foaming tankard into my hand. His nose resembled a twice-baked turnip. "You'll want the blackbread for dipping. Soaks up the dragonpiss ale better."

"Dragonpiss?" I chortled.

"Aye. Just a funny name. You'll find it to yer liken. Most do." The dwarf clapped the tabletop and laughed. "Or you won't, and that's on you!"

A couple of dwarves lifted mugs and sing-songed "On you! On you! On you!"

Seraphina pulled me to a seat next to a red-cheeked dwarf who was muttering into their mug. Her violet eyes tracked the servers. They whisked past with platters of golden dumplings still sizzling from the fry pot. "Fried food? Excellent."

"Most fried food's worth eating." The dwarf to my right—beard dyed an alarming shade of emerald—elbowed my ribs. His stained tunic read HAGGLECASK'S HOPSTERS in peeling letters. "Drink up, tall one! Ye look like a man who's forgotten the taste of proper brew!"

"I forgot the taste of a proper brew until this morning!" a dwarf across from us bellowed, eliciting laughter around the table. "Good thing we got us some Hagglecask on hand, what? What? What!"

"What? Ho ho! Drink you saps!" yet another dwarf bellowed.

"What's the difference between dragonpiss and Hagglecasks?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"T’won't one. Or two. Or … w'as he sayin'?" another dwarf yelled.

I raised the tankard and foam dripped down my wrist. Dwarves leaned in, their collective breaths held.

"To Hagglecask's!" I lifted the mug and swallowed

The roar shook the rafters. "TO HAGGLECASK'S!"

The ale hit my tongue—smoky, with a burnt honey aftertaste. Not the vinegary swill I'd expected. It reminded me a little of Ravencloak Amber, the new ale I'd just signed to the Shadow's Respite. Seraphina coughed into her sleeve, her partially full mug already being refilled by a giggling server half her height.

"Not to your liking, m'lady?" A dwarven lass straddled the bench beside her, boots caked in mud that flaked onto the floor. Her tankard had HURLBRECK carved into the side. "We've got a sweeter mead in the back."

"I'm sure it's fine," Seraphina told her.

The green-bearded dwarf slammed his empty mug and belched a tune that set the others laughing.

The tavern's warmth vanished in a heartbeat. Every dwarf froze mid-gulp as the door swung open. Elixander stood framed in the fading light, his silver-threaded robes lightly sprinkled with road dust. Beside him, Triolux's bronze skin caught the firelight like a forge.

A chair screeched against the floorboards. Then another. Dwarves rose as one, their laughter replaced by the creak of leather gloves tightening around mug handles.

I caught Seraphina's wrist. "Eh. Maybe we should find the backdoor. Now."

Her fingers interlaced with mine. "Wait."

Triolux stepped inside, palms raised. His voice boomed with the resonance of a smith's hammer striking anvil. "Dûrs ashrûn narâs frûm shel!"

Mugs hit tables. A dwarf with a braided mustache longer than his arms dropped his spoon into the stew. "You dare speak the Maker's Tongue, metalwalker?"

"Brothers! Sisters!" Triolux's gemstone eyes swept the crowd. He barked several guttural syllables that made the hearth-flames roar. "Zâramu thrak! Zâramu shel!"

The dwarf who'd thrown the bread roll earlier staggered back and her gravy spoon clattered to the floor. "By a Forgepriest's beard! This one's chanting the Foundry Hymns!"

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Elixander remained still as a statue, though his left eyelid twitched when a drop of mead splashed near his leather slippers.

Triolux slammed a fist against his chest and the metallic clang drowned out the hearth's crackle. "Ai! Dûs thrakul! Dûs khelzar!"

A collective inhale swept through the room. Then the green-bearded dwarf near me roared, "Dûs thrakul!" so loudly his emerald-dyed whiskers quivered.

Mugs rose like a sudden forest. "Dûs khelzar! Dûs khelzar!"

The Hagglecask's tunic dwarf leaped onto the table, sloshing ale across his boots. "You heard the walking ingot! More beer! More bread! More...whatever's in that third cauldron!"

"Third cauldron! Third cauldron! Third cauldron!"

Laughter erupted louder than before. A server nearly toppled under the weight of a fresh keg as he lumbered it onto the bar top. Seraphina released my hand to catch the dwarf's arm before he face-planted into a platter of dumplings.

"Careful there." She righted the server.

"Bless ya, tallflower!" The dwarf patted her elbow, leaving a floury handprint on her sleeve. "First round's on the house for pretty saviors!"

"Tallflower? I'm calling you that from now on," I whispered to Seraphina.

"Not if you want to continue sleeping with me." She laughed.

I snorted, leaned over, and kissed her cheek.

Triolux waded into the crowd, dwarves clambering to clank their tankards against his metallic limbs. He took an offered mug and politely sipped. Triolux had odd tastes, or should I say, he was not able to fully embrace the rich diet of the above world. He needed food rich with minerals. I wouldn't have been surprised if he walked to the fire, dug out a coal, and popped it in his mouth.

I snatched a honey-glazed roll from a passing basket, admiring its flaky exterior. The roll was delicious, and I immediately wanted another, even though I was still full from the king's feast.

The dwarves crowded around Triolux, their beards wagging as they peppered him with questions. I nursed my ale while the Ferrokin gestured with fluid movements.

"Good to see the dwarves getting along with their forefathers," I said to Seraphina.

"The dwarves recognize their ancestors when they hear them, I suppose," she said. "I like dwarves. They're easygoing until they're not. Fierce fighters one and all."

"Yer right about that," Hasslecask tunic leaned in and yelled.

A fresh round of laughter erupted as Triolux demonstrated an old Ferrokin mining technique. His bronze fingers wove patterns in the air. He went on to briefly talk about the cataclysm.

The green-bearded dwarf called out, "How'd ye survive the great shake?"

"We sang to the earth," Triolux said. "Our voices became one with the stone. Then we slept so very, very long. I might still be down there if not for the interference of a tall one," Triolux exclaimed, but his mouth curled up in a smile and he winked at me.

"Tell us of this long sleep."

The dwarves leaned in, tankards forgotten. Even Elixander drifted closer, though he remained standing rather than join the crowded benches.

"The metals guided us through the dark times," Triolux continued. "We learned to dream with the minerals, to flow like quicksilver through the deepest caves. We slept for thousands of years. Some of the ferrokin walked into the light. Now lift a mug to their memories, friends, for they were your ancestors!"

"Aye, that's proper magic, that is!" A dwarf wearing a smith's apron raised his mug. "To those that walked into the light!"

"Those who walked into the light! Those who walked into the light! Those who walked into the light!" The room echoed.

It was an astonishing sight. The long lost ferrokin meeting his distant relatives across millennia. I lifted my mug as well, and cheered them on.

The warmth spread through my chest. The room had begun to swim slightly at the edges. "I should slow down," I whispered to Seraphina. "Need to keep my wits for tomorrow's meeting. This ale is potent."

She squeezed my hand under the table. "Worried about facing the tavern guild?"

"A bit. But I hope Dulmore Thornton will defend me. He was just as miffed about the guild's demands as I. It's all a ruse, thanks to the baron." I pushed my half-full tankard away. "Just need to present my case clearly."

"Did you speak to the king about Swiftwood?"

"I did," I told her. "I also told him I would handle it on my own, in my own way. He seemed to respect that. Besides, what would he have done? Threatened the man again? For all it did the first time. Baron Swiftwood is too arrogant. I have the upper hand now, and he's not going to like it one bit."

"What do you mean?"

I waved her off, not wanting to discuss it with Seraphina just yet. The fact of the matter was that King Alister had handed me a loaded gun. I just had to decide if I was going to accept it.

"Here's one for ye," a dwarf with copper-threaded braids called out to Triolux. "Did yer people ever forge with sunlight?"

"Ah, the solar forges!" Triolux's gem-like features brightened. "We captured daylight in crystal prisms and focused it into beams hot enough to melt the hardest metals. The most stubborn of rock. There was little we couldn't do with the sun's power."

Wait. Was he talking about lasers? Before I could give that another thought, the dwarves erupted in appreciative mutters, calling for more details. They gathered closer to Triolux, shouting and calling for details. They wanted him to share the techniques, but he played them off for now, promising to show them at a later time.

"To the ferrokin!" the emerald-bearded dwarf shouted.

"To the ferrokin!" the room thundered back.

Triolux bowed his head, his metallic features somehow conveying deep emotion. "To new friendships," he said, "and ancient bonds renewed."

The cheers that followed drowned out even the crackling hearth.

I motioned for Elixander, who sat across from us. He leaned in, and I asked, "Where's Frostfire? She's not with you?"

"She had to go and eat."

"What?"

Seraphina leaned in and added. "What she ate was probably barely enough to whet a dragon's appetite. She probably had to head out and find real substance."

That made sense.

I sipped my ale for a few more minutes as the boisterous noise of drunken dwarves rose around me. The food was excellent, if a little bland, but the drinks were where it was at.

"Are we staying here tonight?" I quietly asked Seraphina.

"Maybe somewhere a little less noisy," she replied.

I nodded in agreement.

As more dwarves filtered in and joined the festivities, I found that afternoon had become evening, and that, soon enough, fled into the night.