providing service to some of the larger houses near the shore of the lake.
The greatest of those, through no accident, was the domicile of Dram Feldspar and his wife and child. As the wagon trundled off the bridge and onto the streets of the town-which was not protected by a wall or any other defensive positions-the mountain dwarf felt a proud, glowing sensation in his belly. He thought of that house, of the dwarf woman and their precocious child, and he could not restrain a chuckle of deep, genuine pleasure.
“What is it?” Sally asked, shooting him an amused look.
“Ah, just… I guess I never imagined I would so much enjoy coming to a place like this, having a real home, a real family.” He blushed and glanced back to make sure that none of the three miners in the rear of the wagon could hear him. No worries: they were happily toasting each other and the day’s work, their sloshing mugs half full of the ale they continued to draw from the keg Sally had so thoughtfully brought along. Dram looked back at his wife, his expression serious, his voice low but sincere.
“I owe it all to you, Sal. And I want you to know I’m grateful.”
She squeezed his knee, looking at him through shining eyes. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” She giggled. “For starters, you stood up to my father when he wanted to rip your liver out and cook it on a spit!”
“Well, that was just man-business,” Dram said, embarrassed. He touched the knob on his skull, a bump inflicted a week earlier during the course of some “man-business” with his estimable father-in-law, Swig Frostmead.
“I mean, you make me proud, the way you don’t give in to him. You’re the only dwarf I’ve ever known that could take his measure.” She looked away, and he thought he heard her sigh slightly. “I wish… I wish… someday…”
“You wish I’d stand up to Jaymes, don’t you?” Dram spoke seriously, knowing his wife’s mind all too well.
She looked at him again, and he felt as though she were looking straight through him, straight through to his soul. “I don’t mean it like that. I know what he means-what he meant-to you… for all those years you were living like outlaws. And I know that the work you’ve done for him has been in the name of a good cause. You’ve united Solamnia, and that was no easy task. And the barbarians have been driven out, for good… I hope.”
“Aye, all true. But he’s changed, hasn’t he? I’d be blind not to see it,” Dram declared softly.
“Yes, he has. And sometimes… I worry about the future.”
“You and me both, wife,” Dram replied gruffly. “You and me both.”
The cool stone walls of the house were pleasing, and Mikey squealed with pleasure as Dram and Sally entered the front hall. The little boy toddled from the nursery to greet his parents, while his grandfather stood back, beaming with pride.
“Mums! Dada!” Mikey chortled as Sally kissed him, and Dram nuzzled his son with his bristling beard. As usual, the lad was consumed by giggles at these ministrations.
“Thanks for staying with him, Dad,” Sally said, going over to Swig and kissing his furry cheek. “Any problems?”
“Not a one,” the grizzled hill dwarf said, beaming. “That little fellow is a real prodigy-why, he was using my pocket knife like a pickaxe, digging in the backyard. And today I showed him how to make two fists!”
“Uh, thanks, Dad.”
“Don’t mention it. You can call on me any time.” Swig glanced at his son-in-law and cleared his throat. “But you got a visitor waiting. Rogard Smashfinger came down from Kayolin to see you. He’s set up at the inn.”
“Well, we’ll send a message and have him come for dinner,” Sally said quickly before Dram could head for the door. Her husband had been known to take six or eight hours, sometimes, when he went to personally fetch someone from the inn.
Sheepishly, the dwarf nodded. “I’ll send one of the men down with an invitation. Tell him to come over as soon as he can.”
“Good. I’ll see to the kitchen,” said the dwarf maid, bustling through the dining room, Mikey rolling along behind.
“Did Rogard say what he wanted?” Dram asked as Swig drew a couple of mugs of ale from the keg that rested in an alcove in the front hall.
His father-in-law handed him one of the foaming vessels and shrugged. “Nah. He seemed kind of out of sorts, though. I suppose it’s the usual-he wants us to buy more steel.”
Swig’s guess proved prescient when, not long after, the mountain dwarf arrived. Rogard Smashfinger wore the fur cape and bejeweled bracelets, rings, and necklaces that marked him as a noble merchant of no small station, and in fact they knew that he was a cousin of Kayolin’s king. It was Rogard who had provided the incredibly strong bands of spring steel that had allowed the bombards to finally be rendered functional. Three years ago he had been the master forger of that dwarf under-mountain realm, but his activities and dealings with New Compound had allowed him to take off his leather apron and don the splendid merchant’s togs.
Rogard’s gray beard was split by a grin that was just a little too friendly, and the gleam in his eye looked as if it had been placed there more by design than by genuine emotion. Even so, it was a relaxed trio of dwarves who retired with their cold ales to the sitting room.
The mountain dwarf from Garnet leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and fixed Dram with a determined look. “So, now. I have ten wagons of steel bands forged and finished, ready to roll down here. When do you want ’em?”
“I’m not sure that I do want ’em, to tell you the truth,” Dram replied. “I haven’t been doing much work on the bombards lately. The emper-Jaymes, that is-still has three of them, and I think they’ll be sufficient for the time being.”
“You can’t be serious!” objected Rogard. “Will you be content to be just another dwarf mining town, here in the Garnet Range?”
“There’s veins of gold and silver in these hills,” Dram allowed grudgingly. “Turns out I’ve got kind of a nose for the stuff.”
“Well, listen. If that’s your purpose, then the king will have to take a little bit more interest in your operation. Seems likely that you’ll owe him some taxes, seeing as how you’re digging in his mountains!”
Swig sputtered so hard that he blew the foam off of his mug and all across his trousers. He leaped to his feet then made an effort to hold his temper when Dram calmly held up a hand. “Now, Rogard, I am a loyal subject of the king, having been born in that great city under the mountain. But I know where Kayolin is, and I know where we are. There’s a lotta miles between us, and the king doesn’t have any claim to these valleys around here.”
“Are you going to tell the king that? Knowing his majesty like I do, I expect that’s more the kind of decision he’ll want to be making himself. After all, you led him to believe that you’d be taking this steel off his hands. He’s been busy forging up there, while you were poking around in the hills, digging up nuggets and ore. I can’t say he’s going to be happy about it.”
“How dare he tell us what to do?” demanded Swig, stepping forward and balling his fists. “Why, if that mountain dwarf mole ever stuck his nose out from under his mountain, he’d know-”
“Now, now, Swig,” Dram said, standing and placing a restraining hand on his father-in-law’s shoulder. “Let’s mind our manners.”
“Manners?” Swig spluttered. “Why, you’re just as-”
“Dad?” Sally chirped sweetly, sticking her head through the door to the kitchen. “Oh, hi, Rogard,” she said, offering a dazzling smile.
“Hi, Sally,” the mountain dwarf replied, beaming at her then warily glancing back at Swig.
“Can you give me a hand in here, Pop?” she asked. “I need someone with a little strength…”
The hill dwarf looked angrily at the master forger then turned an appealing expression to his daughter. “But-we’re just-I was gonna-I have to-”
“Go ahead, Swig,” Dram said cheerfully, using his hand to steer the muttering hill dwarf out of the room, flashing his wife a grateful wink. Only when the two had disappeared into the rear of the house did he turn back to his visitor. Before speaking, Dram took a moment to refill their mugs, carefully sculpting the foam into a perfect head on each glass. He handed the drink to an appreciative Rogard.
“That old hill dwarf has a temper,” allowed the guest.
“He’s set in his ways. But he’s true to his soul, and he’s as brave a dwarf as you could ever hope to find.”
