“You’re not rid of me yet,” Torrin said jokingly.
“That’s good,” Haldrin replied, his voice equally deadpan. “If we did lose you, we’d have no one to reach items down from the highest shelves. Poor Gimrick would have to resort to his ladder again-and we all know what a fright that would put into him.”
Everyone around the table chuckled-even Ambril, who at last seemed to have reassured herself that Torrin was not, indeed, a danger to her unborn babes. The family resumed their breakfast in companionable silence.
As they ate, Torrin eased his pack from his shoulders and set it on the bench beside him. The runestone, having being thoroughly examined by the clerics, had been returned to him, and was back inside his pack.
“I do have other news,” Torrin told them. “Soon enough, if the gods are willing, I’ll be setting out on my quest for the Soulforge. I finally have what I need to find it.”
Ambril and Haldrin nodded, only partially listening. Ambril’s twin sister Mara had just come into the room, and was enquiring about the pregnancy. Fair enough-the Thunsonn Clan had heard Torrin go on more than once about his quest.
Kier, however, was all ears. “What, Uncle Torrin?” he asked. “What have you got? Tell me!”
Pleased by the boy’s interest-and understanding how hard it was to be a singleton, in a race where Moradin’s thunder blessing consistently produced twins-Torrin dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “A magical runestone,” he confided. “Want to see it?”
Kier’s rapid nod was all the encouragement that Torrin needed.
“It’s going to be the greatest delve of all,” Torrin told him as he undid his pack. “And this-” he took the runestone out and unwrapped it “-is going to lead me straight to it.”
Kier studied the runestone. “How?”
Torrin shrugged. “I still have to figure that one out.”
“Can I hold it?” Kier asked.
“Why not? Here you go.”
“I’ve planned a delve of my own,” Kier said as he avidly examined the runestone.
“Oh really? Where to?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Even from me, your favorite delving partner?” Torrin chided, humoring the boy.
“You can’t come, Uncle,” the boy said. “I have to do this one solo. There… isn’t room for you.”
Torrin chuckled, wondering which unwatched pantry or dusty storeroom was going to be the subject of the boy’s “delve.” Gimrick had better count his carving knives, lest some “ancient dagger” be plundered. “I hope you’ve made all your preparations,” he told Kier.
“I’m ready,” the boy assured him.
“And that you’ll show me what you’ve delved, once you’re back.”
“Of course. You’ll be the first to see whatever I find!”
Torrin smiled. If only the Delvers would show as much enthusiasm! Yet despite Torrin’s fervent prayers, the gods had yet to convince anyone from the order to join Torrin’s quest for the Soulforge. Likely, he thought ruefully, he’d have to wait for Kier to become a man, in order to finally have a delving partner.
He shook his head. “Moradin grant it,” he said to himself, “that my quest is complete before the boy is as old as that.”
Chapter Four
“The gold you have yet to win gleams the brightest.”
'You’re in trouble, ” a childlike voice said.
Torrin turned and saw Gimrick hurrying up the stair behind him. The gnome servant kept one hand on the iron handrail that was set into the wall. His eyes remained firmly on Torrin, never once glancing down at the canyon floor where the Riftlake sparkled in the sunlight, far below. Gimrick’s face was pale under his short gray beard. Whatever he’d come to tell Torrin, it must have been urgent. Otherwise, Gimrick would have used one of the interior spiral staircases instead.
Torrin squatted on the steps. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Ambril’s looking everywhere for you. She’s furious!”
“Why?”
A dwarf squeezed past them on the stair. Gimrick clung with both hands to the handrail and closed his eyes as she brushed past. “You were supposed to take Kier with you to the market today,” he said.
Torrin smacked his forehead. “I forgot. And I promised him a toy shield, too.” He started to rise. “I’ll go back and fetch him, then.”
“You can’t,” said the gnome.
“Why not?”
“That’s the trouble. Kier’s vanished. Ambril can’t find him, and she says it’s your fault for not minding him.”
Torrin sighed. Kier was always wandering off somewhere, but the boy didn’t need minding. He was eight years old and big enough not to trip over anyone’s beard. “He’s probably just hiding again,” Torrin said with a laugh. “That’s Ambril for you, making mineshafts out of dungholes. Always worrying. Remember the last time, how she was convinced the drow had kidnapped Kier for sacrifice? Turned out he was in the armory, trying on helms. Safe and sound, aside from the bump he got when the shield fell on his head.”
“But what if he’s left the city?” Grimrick said, fretting. “With the quarantine, it could be a tenday or more before he gets back in again. The clerics can’t keep up with the new arrivals, especially now that the caravan’s arrived from Delzimmer. They say the tent city has attracted a number of unscrupulous characters. Kier could run afoul of a rogue.”
“That would be bad,” Torrin said with a frown. Then he shrugged. “But even Kier would know better than to leave the city when there’s a quarantine in place.”
“But-”
“He’ll turn up, Gimrick,” Torrin assured the gnome. “I’m certain of it.”
“Ambril’s not.”
Torrin sighed. Despite his reassurances that the Council had proclaimed Eartheart free of the stoneplague, the contagion elsewhere in the Deeps had taken its toll on Ambril. In the days since the gates had closed, she’d been imagining her only child in the clutches of a plague-wracked denizen of the Deeps who’d slipped in past the guard. Her pregnancy only made it worse. Her shrill tirades followed Kier everywhere, like a shadowing cloaker. Don’t touch anyone, even tallfolk. Don’t touch the handrail when climbing the stair. Don’t accept food or drink from strangers. On and on she went. Torrin was certain that most of it went in one ear and out of the other. Kier had an independent streak and had always forged his own path, no matter what anyone said. It probably came from being a singleton.
Torrin turned to go back down the stair, resigned to searching for the boy. “Thanks for letting me know about Kier, Gimrick. Tell Ambril I’ll find him. I’m sure he’s in the clanhold, somewhere.”
The gnome caught his arm-with both hands. “No, wait! There’s something I haven’t told you yet,” he said. “Baelar’s griffon is missing from the eyrie. I think Kier took it.”
“What makes you say that?” Torrin asked, startled.
“Just… Opel acted strange when I asked him why the boy wasn’t helping him muck out the eyrie. He claimed not to know where Kier was, even though those two are as tight as rogues. And he paused to think a moment when I asked where Baelar’s griffon was.”
“Smite me with a hammer, Gimrick!” Torrin exploded, shaking off the gnome’s hands. “When will you ever learn to put the most important point first? If Kier has taken the griffon, he’s in real trouble!”
