Klorachamol did a quick estimate and determined that he had managed to more than double his own quota for the day just on his own. With the portion of Ker’s take added, he nearly quadrupled it. Not a good thing. Bringing in too much tended to raise one’s quota, no matter the reason, except a Mother Lode of course.

Dividing his ore in half and reducing Ker’s contribution by half again, he stashed the remaining treasure. He wanted to add to his bank, but avoid any risk of having his quota upped at the end of mentoring the scrambler.

Picking the child up and setting her on top of the box, he pushed it back to the camp. Just before entering the common area, he woke her and made her push the cart herself. He thought she might be grumpy upon awakening, like any normal child, but was disappointed. She behaved no different than before.

“Working the little whelp hard on the first day, are you Mr. Klorachamol?” the most recent depot lackey, Jordi, joked. He dared not aggravate the deadly man, but the girl’s battered condition could not be ignored. Not that he really cared, he just thought it more risky ignoring the girl’s condition. He did not want the guards taking notice of him.

“She did good,” came the only reply.

Jordi hesitated, but fear of Klorachamol overrode fear of the guards. “Put your quota on the counter.” Several moments passed and then Moriah obeyed, neither averting her eyes or looking at the man. Jordi opened the sack. He glanced upwards at Klorachamol and then back into the sack. “You’re exceeding quota by a lot, Klorachamol,” he warned, keeping his voice low. He glanced around, checking for guards. “You better be careful about this in the future. I’ll divide this up and apply half to tomorrow’s quota, but I won’t do it again.”

Klorachamol showed no reaction to the man’s aid, merely nodding and escorting Ker to the mess line. The place was deserted and they secured their rations without trouble or wait. Because he was on mentor status and met double quota, they both received double portions.

Returning to the smaller sleeping area through the larger one, Moriah might have noticed a number of bodies lying on the ground with blankets pulled over them and several fire pits burning, billowing black smoke. She might have noticed, but she did not look around, her eyes steadfast forward and void of curiosity.

Coming into his own little domain, the man sighed to himself as he noted the intruders in his space. Still, he did not even pause before passing through the short tunnel separating it from the main living caverns. There were four of them waiting for him.

“So, is this your ward?” a tall man with a harsh face and wide lips said. “Heard rumor it was a child whelp under edict. So, are you going to share?”

The dark man let out another weary sigh. “Roller, you’re in my space. Leave.”

“Or what? You gonna kill me? Maybe break a bone or two?” He laughed. “You’re not above the rules, my man.”

“The brat’s under edict. If I kill you because you’re a threat to her, there will be no penalty.” Klorachamol’s feral smile grew. “I believe your current actions are a threat.”

Roller’s laughter cut off and he held his hands up, “Whoa there, man. I’m not threatening the girl. You got me all wrong.”

Klorachamol just smiled at him and walked forward. Roller’s associates deserted him, fleeing into the main room. Roller tried to run too, but died before he could complete his first stride, his back broken in three places, head turned looking a little too far over his left shoulder, all happening with a single cracking sound. Klorachamol turned to look at Moriah. A blank stare with no reaction. He snorted.

“Go spread out your blankets. Lay on top of one and cover with one.” The child walked a straight line to her bedding, stepping over Roller’s legs.

Several minutes later one of the guards appeared in the entrance of the cave. “What happened?” he demanded, toeing the dead body.

“He threatened harm to the Edict. I merely protected her.” Klorachamol spoke offhand, as if it did not matter that the guard had come. Which it didn’t. If it came down to it, he could kill the guard too.

The guard hesitated. His briefing had covered Klorachamol. The short of it, don’t mess with him. Roller had been a good producer, but a decided trouble maker. No one would shed tears over his death on either side of the isle, guards or miners. “Very well.” He turned and left. A minute later two miners came into the cave and carried Roller away.

“Taking full advantage of the situation, I see.” The amused voice rolled from the back tunnel, filling the small cave, but not escaping it.

Klorachamol stiffened. The damned elf. Forcing himself to relax, he shrugged, “I didn’t seek out the confrontation, Klierallan.”

“Of course not. The human is well below your notice. But why become a mentor? You have no need of it.” The voice carried smooth. The elf was probing. He too wore one of the special collars.

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Klorachamol shrugged. “The commander made the request personally. He only has two scramblers right now and it’s affecting his production enough to draw notice.” The assassin laughed sardonically. “He made some interesting concessions if I would protect this third runt.” Klorachamol was not above lying, but lying to the elf held a level of danger. Since Klierallan could find out the truth and it did not matter if he knew, Klorachamol did not care to press the matter. Still, he had no intention of going into details.

The elf did not seem to care about the details. “And it has been a profitable day, has it not? Five times quota and you were out such a short time. Amazing.” The elf enjoyed this kind of give and take. Few in the mines were worth the effort for conversation, but all those living in Klorachamol’s small oasis held interest of one sort or another.

“We got lucky.” Klorachamol replied, gazing at Klierallan trying to fathom his intent. He considered killing the creature, but doubted his success. He would have to wait a while longer.

“Ah, yes. Lucky.” Klierallan moved into the light of the cavern and approached the sleeping form. The child truly slept, which amused the elf for some unknown reason. Bending down, he touched her cheek and forehead, ignoring the hostility of the assassin. They both knew who would win under the present restraints. “She has been wounded deeply in her mind. She is one with death already. Tell me, my dear assassin Klorachamol, can you protect her from herself?”

The assassin smoothed his expression both in face and body. He did not answer. He hated the black one with a true passion that he did not fully understand himself. He was by no means one who could claim even passing alignment with Light, but he supposed some things were so vile that even evil despises them. “What do you want, Demon-Pact?” He spoke softly, ready to attack despite the risk.

Klierallan stood and waved his hand by way of clearing the tension. “Relax, Shadow. I’m not going to do anything. This one has a great potential. I will not waste her with haste. I have waited a long time for a chance to escape.” He turned and looked at the man and smiled. “We must both wait and see which way she jumps before we may act, lest we push her over the edge.”

Klorachamol snarled at the empty space where the black elf had been a moment ago. Not good. While he himself wanted to escape, he had no desire to allow that creature loose on the universe again.

“Ho,” a bellow sounded from the back tunnel and two gnarly dwarves clomped into the cave. “To Klorachamol we send greetings. Back early you are, earlier than we. Did the mentor already slay the ward?” Jenjen Granite-White greeted his friend in his boisterous manner. He was rather fond of the assassin, but didn’t really understand the death master.

Klorachamol jerked his hand at the sleeping form. “Asleep, oh wise basher of pebbles.”

“Ho ho ho!” the gnarly man laughed off the insult. “Asleep alive? Asleep dead?”

“Alive. Have you already been to the depot?”

“But of course, Death Master. Quota made double each. They threaten, but back away like a rock mite before the hammer,” Jenjen chuckled, walking over to look at the child’s face.

Klorachamol snorted his amusement. Every time the gnarly dwarves doubled their quota, the depot threatened to bump their quota level. They actually did it once, but the dwarves both had enough credit stored in their banks so they did not need to make quota for a long time. One week into the standoff, the depot had backed down. It seemed between the two of them, the dwarves supplied nearly an eighth the total volume on any given day. With them not contributing, the depot’s own quota did not get met. That had threatened the guards’ rotation out of the mines. No one wanted to risk getting the guards angry, well except his acquaintances.

“The girl is harmed.” The dwarf rumbled, looking down at the child’s bloody face.

“She’ll be okay. I sent her on a scramble, that’s all. She is a scrambler, after all.”

“The doctor must not see, lest she to the infirmary be sent.” Corko, the second dwarf rumbled. Smaller and less boisterous than his cousin, he also had a softer heart.

“Not a concern. Not even the doctor would dare harm an Edict placed by the Commander. He might lose his little workshop.” Klorachamol dismissed the concern from discussion.

“Klorachamol, you’re back early today.” A lithe, black-haired woman flew into the cave from the direction of the main living complex. She had her shirt undone to her belly and pulled back to reveal an ample portion of her breasts. She liked teasing the boys, hoping in forlorn hope that one of them would try to do something stupid so she could hurt them. She moved with the supple movements of a panther. Anyone who knew her would say she had the deadly claws to accompany her movements.

“Jenna. I see you’ve been picking on the boys again.” He accepted her head long flight into his arms and kissed her deep and long. “You’ve been out for several days, woman.” He lifted her and they fell to his bed, he on top of her.

“Just having some fun, lover,” she wrapped her legs around him.

After some time had passed, she glanced at the new blanket. “Your ward? I heard rumors. The Commander must have been desperate to agree to your terms.” She laughed. “So, is it a boy or girl?”

“Girl.”

“Oh? Now that’ll be interesting,” she purred.

“Leave her alone. She’s under full Edict and she’s fragile. Even the elf restrained himself.”

Jenna stiffened at mention of the elf. “He was here?”

“Came for a short visit just before the cousins returned.”

“It is that the blackest elf has shown interest in the child?” Jenjen said, rising from where he had been sitting, his jovial mask gone.

“Apparently. He thinks she might help him escape.”

“Die she must,” the dwarf declared and pulled out his pickax, advancing on the girl.

“Hold on, Jenjen! You cannot just murder an Edict! Even you’ll be punished,” Jenna said, sitting up naked.

“The blackest elf must not leave this place,” but the gnarly man paused.

Corko spoke a spat of gnarly, Jenjen replying in an angry voice. The two lovers glanced at each other, concerned. They had never heard either of the dwarves show any serious emotion. Even their joviality was an obvious cloak for depths unfathomed.

The exchange lasted for several minutes, but finally Jenjen turned away from the girl and stalked from the cave. “He will forebear, for the child is innocent. We would not be what we detest. What this child should be, we will wait and see.” Corko moved to his bedding and settled in for the night, unaware he echoed the elf’s conclusion.

“Okay, that was rather scary,” Jenna chuckled running her hand through her hair. “I see that your ward is going to make this place rather interesting if she can get the steadfast cousins riled while she but sleeps.” She sighed happily, laying back down next to her lover.