In the workshops of Dhuldarim’s gemcutters, stone sang in symphonies heard nowhere else. The keen application of an artificer’s knife, water flowing under such pressure through a specialized hollow stylus that it could cut a diamond, demanded both care and respect for the tool and subject alike. Geim drummed into every apprentice, few as they were, that even a dwarven finger was a good deal softer and easier to remove than excess gemstone. Tali kept her ears open well enough to know he was right without having to experience an amputation herself.

The knife needed no clicks to guide it, the hiss of pressurized water sending vibrations so swiftly through the gemstone and the air around that every detail rang like a bell to sensitive ears. Her hand ached from holding the knife, but the rest of Tali remained very much still and calm, utterly at peace. Serenity lived in removing the excess stone, allowing the facets of the gem to breathe. The secret to a well-cut gem was not focusing on forcing it into a particular shape, but removing the excess to reveal the art unborn within.

Tali adored the art of gemcutting. Whatever kind of day it was, she could lose herself in the song. All the mundane little anxieties and pressures seemed to melt away as soon as she had the dial of the artificer’s knife properly adjusted for the first cut. Even little tweaks to the water’s shape and speed couldn’t break the spell once she found her flow, though the reconfiguration was technically an interruption. It felt so natural now to adjust the rings around the stylus’s length with subtle manipulations of her fingers, movements so small and precise they represented only a hair’s breadth of change.

She had one sapphire left to finish for the next shipment to Dhir Dharal. Normally apprentices practiced on inferior diamonds, both because they were the most difficult to cut and most readily found, but Master Geim and her father both knew she was approaching the end of her time as a student and trusted in her steady hands.

Her hand ached from holding the stylus as she followed along exacting lines arranged both across the surface of the stone and the apparatus of her workstation, each one dialed by Tali herself before she’d started. The metal guides for the stylus meant perfectly straight cuts for each facet, once she’d ground and polished away the waste rock holding the gem. Laborious work to be certain, requiring patience and persistence, but there was something soothing to it all.

To a dwarf, work was the best prayer to Tek one could make. It allowed in that divine spark of inspiration responsible for the exceptional nature of their crafts. At least, that was what the Forge-Tender said.

Tali swiped at her forehead with her other hand, leather glove catching the sweat beading on her brow as she worked. The workshop was always warm, but especially with protective gear across her eyes. Her mask existed to protect against grit and sprays of water that could cause damage more than to preserve her virtually non-existent vision, but after two hours of working without a break, it was getting unbearably hot.

Something shifted behind her, easily sensed in the steady sound of the knife. She knew the presence by his warmth and melodious hum of pride: her father. His callused hand settled on her shoulder with a light touch, still carrying the smell of polish. “Finish up, Tali. It’s getting late.”

Tali rolled her lower lip between her teeth as she finished the last cut, focusing intently on the alignment of the slice. Even a millimeter off and the lines would be just asymmetric enough to be noticed by the careful evaluation of Geim’s sensitive hands. As soon as she’d guided the knife past the edge of the stone into the clear, she relaxed and flexed her stiffening fingers, turning off the tool. “Done!” She exhaled relief, wiggling in her gloves to ease some of the tension resulting naturally from holding the same position for so long.

“Let me feel,” her father said once she set the knife aside, reaching past her to undo the padded vice that held the gem so precisely, able to be rotated inside the work-frame in any direction needed. The stone itself was a nhanar-duhr: an oval-shaped top with layers of brilliant facets in triangular patterns that would sparkle in light, forming a complicated star-like shape, tapering down on the bottom side to a flat-tipped point meant for setting into precious metal on a ring. It was a difficult geometric pattern to keep completely symmetrical, even with metal guides, one of the last apprentices learned to make.

Tali all but held her breath as her father detached the stone and turned it over in his hands. He was every bit the expert Geim was at checking work, nearly as experienced as the Master of Gems himself despite being a few decades younger. “How did I do?”

“The alignment is…” Her father let the sentence trail off into silence until Tali huffed in impatience, then chuckled, still turning the gem over and over in between his fingers. “Can’t stand the suspense?”

The young dwarf unbuckled her mask and then swatted her father’s shoulder with it. “I know you know if it’s right or wrong the moment you’ve mapped it.”

His laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “Is that so?”

“Your dramatic pauses are worse than Geim’s.” Tali prodded him with the edge of the mask, not that her father’s shoulder would budge an inch even with a shove. The warmth of the workshop was far more bearable without her protective covering on her face. “Get on with it, Vadr.”

“I suppose if I must, though I’d remind you that patience is a virtue Tek favors.” He hummed for a breath, that same pleased and proud tone. “It’s flawless, Tali. You’ve improved since your last try at this style. A fine stone worthy of trade to Dhir Dharal.”

Tali let out the sigh of relief she’d been holding in. “Good.”

Her father tugged at the braid of her wiry hair, clicking his teeth in amusement. “You perfectionist.”

The young dwarf swatted him again with the mask and held out her hand for the gem. “Where could I have possibly learned that? Never from listening to another certain dwarf!”

He placed the stone in her palm and waited until her hand closed to pull her into a tight hug. “I agree. Your mother is a terrible influence,” he whispered conspiratorially.

Tali laughed, ignoring the press of the gem’s sharp facets into her hand as she returned her father’s hug. His wiry beard scratched at her cheeks, left wild instead of neatly plaited. He seldom took the time to contain it unless her mother prodded him into it, a rare occasion. “Yes, Umma is the problem, clearly.”

“I mean, I won’t tell her if you don’t,” her father said, releasing her after a moment. He clapped her on the shoulder, chest still puffed with pride at her progress.Tali whistled in her throat and rolled her shoulders in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. Garran Khondurahl was the arch-perfectionist, meticulous about every aspect of his craft. It was a far cry from her mother’s improvisational knack and flexibility. Every miner had a plan, but it required someone able to deviate from preparations when disaster struck and no one was better in a crunch than Sibta.

Together, they cleaned up her workspace. Tali undid the entire guiding system, carefully putting each piece in its place, carved hollows in the surface of the workbench that perfectly matched the dimensions of each piece. The artificer’s knife came apart into several pieces and she scrubbed them diligently with a little bristle-brush before washing with a solution meant to remove any impurities left from the water funneled through. The first thing she’d learned about the tool was how to clean it, because sloppiness meant deposits could build up and either break the knife or ruin its cuts. She also wiped down the stone and wrapped it in a square of plain cloth, tucking it into a small box and leaving it at Geim’s workstation for the final evaluation.

“Do you think I’m ready to try a mastercraft?” Tali asked as she followed her father out of the workshop, hanging her apron on the door’s hook as she passed the threshold. “I have some designs in my head.”

“That’s for Geim to decide.” Her father led the way across the spiderweb of walkways that spanned the great chasms between Dhuldarim’s colossal gears, endlessly in motion. The powerful machines of the dwarven artifices were said to animate the turning of the world itself, giving the skyborn their seasons. At least, if the stories were to be believed. To Tali, the skyborn were practically mythical creatures. The tales of creatures surviving in the world above, a world without anchor, seemed almost nonsensically fantastical. The closest she had ever come to their world was the resemblance of some of her cuts to their strange flora, or perhaps the fact the gems she cut would one day perhaps end up in that world through the trade of Dhir Dharal.

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“Unofficially?” Tali pressed as she followed her father, easily maneuvering down a ladder taller than twenty dwarves stacked on each other’s shoulders. It wasn’t even an eighth the size of the gear humming away next to it. The platforms they walked were in constant, if slow motion, revolving and changing alignments with the machine they were linked to. It was just a matter of hopping off on the right platform to make it home.

Her father chuckled a little at the eagerness in her tone. “I think so. What were you thinking?”

“I have a few designs in mind. I was thinking of using concave cuts and trying to make a new cutting style.”

“Hmm. Difficult, but your head’s in the right place. It’ll take something exceptional to impress Geim.” He huffed thoughtfully at that and was quiet for another few turns, now scaling a different ladder on the opposite side, pausing at the accustomed time to let a mammoth gear slowly turn until they could scamper up between the teeth. Water rushed past to their left in a great aqueduct, channeled down towards the forges and mines.

Geim explained once that the water came from the skyborn world, melted ‘snow’ off great spurs of rock called ‘mountains’, but Tali only knew of them because Dhir Dharal was said to sit in one. Dhuldarim itself was much deeper in the Lands of Tek and that water had been an underground river winding for miles ever-downward, far removed from its source. The Master of Gems had traveled more than most dwarves, to even the famed Dhir Dharal, though he had never dared set foot in the skyborn world himself. He always insisted it was more dangerous than even the spirits of deep-fire that sometimes caused geothermal events that threatened whole tunnel systems.

“I was going to practice on the drehza.” The poor-quality diamonds, too cloudy and discolored for trade, were sometimes used down in the mines in the construction of drills or other tools, but otherwise found little use besides fodder for the apprentices. No one would mind her trying some more unusual cuts with those.

Her father hummed in agreement. “Better those than something quality, at least until you have the shapes worked out,” he said. “Concave cuts are harder than flat facets and a new pattern will take a lot of practice for alignment. You might make some diagrams.”

“I can do that,” Tali said. Their house had a drawing table, a piece of smooth glass backed by a steady light. She could drape a piece of translucent cloth over it and make her design in charcoal, visible as a contrast of darkness and brightness. That was about the best dwarven eyes could manage.

Her father clicked in approval as they climbed up and then down, crossing various platforms all in a state of perpetual motion. Dhuldarim hummed its deep, resonant song in their bones as they moved, combined with a comfortable warmth suffusing the great machine. Some of it was from the forges and some from the deep-fire that burned far, far below. After her hard work, it was almost a little too warm for Tali, but she was cooling more quickly without the mask.

Carved into the stone above one of the great gears, behind a rectangular door made of hardened fungus wood, their home awaited. A pair of windows looked out over the great machine and complicated web of catwalks and buildings that made up Dhuldarim’s living quarters. For the first time in a long time, Tali opened the door to hear her mother humming an old mining song from the direction of the hearth. Normally, Sibta was the last to arrive home, usually late enough that Tali barely got in a few sentences before her mother went to sleep.

“Umma!” Tali shot forward, wrapping her mother in a tight hug. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Tali-ali, welcome home. Thorgin and I traded shifts,” Sibta said with a laugh, squeezing so tightly it almost took the air from Tali’s lungs. The mine leader was incredibly strong, even for a dwarf. “Did you think I would really miss your name-day?”

Tali let go of her mother just long enough to map the mine leader’s face with fond fingers. “I honestly forgot. Geim let me cut sapphires today. Vadr even said I did well.”

“That’s my girl.” Sibta’s hands ran over her daughter’s cheeks and forehead before turning to greet Garran with a tight hug and a kiss. “You’ve thoroughly corrupted her, mhanak. All she thinks of is art.” The term of endearment rolled easily off her tongue, familiar and infused with warmth, worthy of the word’s meaning: a love burning like a hearth, offering comfort and life to the other.

Garran chuckled and put his forehead against Sibta’s, running hands over her short-cropped hair. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Not in the slightest.” Sibta squeezed him too, then let go. “I brought you something, Tali-ali. A name-day present.”

Tali cocked her head curiously, clicking in her throat with anticipation. She thought little of her name-day, old enough to find it mostly just another day. Dwarves celebrated not the birth, but the presentation of an infant to the artifice with their name officially added to the Heart-Forge’s memories. Life in the artifice was frequently difficult despite all their knowledge and tools, so celebrations of such things were minor affairs.

Sibta produced a small lump of stone from her pocket and held it out to Tali. “I found this down in the mines and thought of you.”

Tali took the piece carefully, letting her fingers dance across its surface. Some of it was rough waste rock, but there was a gem embedded in it, partially exposed. “What is it?”

“We looked at it using an appraiser’s glass. It’s lendahral.”

Garran’s eyebrows shot up. “Quite the gift,” he said with a hint of awe in his tone.

The young dwarf closed her hands around the stone reverently. Not only were such flawless blue diamonds incredibly difficult to find, the stories she’d grown up with called them the Tears of Tek. They were far more precious than just the mineral itself. She slipped it into one of the many pockets on her pants, then tackled her mother into another hug. “This is perfect, Umma. I can use it for my mastercraft.” She inhaled deeply, catching the faint smell of stone dust and water from her mother. “Thank you!”

Garran chuckled. “Just be sure you practice on something else.”

“I will, I promise,” Tali said. She knew she was going to spend the rest of the cycle with the stone, trying to divine what stone needed to come off. She could at least polish away the extra rock until only the raw gem was left. Geim hadn’t ever let her touch such a stone, nor had she seen one throughout the course of her apprenticeship. They were rare even in Dhuldarim, the City of Gems.

“Come, let’s eat,” Sibta said, squeezing her daughter’s shoulder fondly when Tali stepped back out of the hug. “You two are always ravenous as wild tefia after a hard day’s work.”

Their home was too compact for a race to the kitchen. They’d arranged every piece of furniture to make the best use of close quarters, including the table sitting between an L-shaped counter and the oven itself. Dwarves had a different idea of personal space than most others, tactile in every encounter and comfortable with others being elbow to elbow with them. Touch and connection were natural mates for Tali’s people.

Sliced fungal caps, roasted cave fish, eggs from the little lizards called norvar that roamed the Lands of Tek, and a sort of bread made from grinding down a particular dried kind of spore were the order of the day. Tali chewed away happily, letting her parents carry the conversation as she thought of the rare stone in her pocket, halfway listening.

Her father seemed to inhale his food, barely pausing when a piece of something caught in his beard. Her mother was always there to help him clean up and tease him all the while. Even while Tali’s thoughts were elsewhere, the familiar cadence of their conversation soothed all the nerves creeping in about her work. She knew she’d done her best, but the Master of Gems had yet to look over everything. She didn’t want to disappoint Geim.

It’s been a good day, Tali told herself, tucking her hand into her pocket to touch the gem. Don’t fret.

The idea for the design struck her like a flash of flame in a furnace, perhaps the light of innovation from Tek’s grace. Tali hopped up from the table. “I’ll be back!”

Garran just laughed as his daughter scurried off in the direction of the drafting table. “I think she thought of something.”

Sibta hummed happily. “I knew she would. She’s a chip off your block, Garran.”

“And yours, mhanak,” the gemcutter said, nudging Sibta under the table with one foot.

“Too gentle.”

He leaned in close, bristling beard brushing against Sibta’s cheek. “You have a soft heart too,” Garran said, leaning his head against hers. “That warmth lit our fire. Besides, she clicks the exact way you do when you two are waiting on a surprise.”

Sibta wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing her hand up and down his bicep. “You think so?”

“I know it.” Garran spoke with absolute confidence, firm and proud at the same time. “She’s grown so fast.”

“She’s young yet, but yes.” In her heart of hearts, Sibta felt an overwhelming gratitude. Not only was Tali able to be young, without all the hazards of the mines, but she was chasing her passion in the way dwarves were meant to. The mine leader hoped that simple growth would never change.

Fate, however, had a way of twisting.