water at the dwarves' approach. Draped in moss, stalactites and stalag mites had formed here too, but so elaborately that they re minded Flint of organpipes.
The ground before the pool was covered in a soft blanket of moss. In a moment Flint realized that it provided the source of the light in the grotto. Somehow alive with energy, the moss glowed slightly green and yellow and pink all at once. The effect was unbelievably soothing.
'Isn't it beautiful?' Perian breathed as she glided silently over the moss and headed for a natural stone bench nearer the pool;
'It is that,' Flint agreed, unable to think of more appropri ate or poetic words. He shook off the grotto's calming ef fects to remember their purpose for coming here. 'Nomscul, where's my nephew?'
Flint heard a groan behind him. Turning, the hill dwarf saw something move slightly in the shadows of the rock for mations. He was not prepared for the sight of Basalt on his knees, a four-inch length of leash around his neck tying him to a stalagtite, arms lashed to his sides by ribbons, belts, twine, and many other less identifiable materials. His face was swollen, caked with dried blood, and covered with
Nomscul's 'magical' dirt. His beard and hair were as stringy as a gully dwarf's.
'Basalt!' Flint cried, rushing forward to cut the length of twine that tied the young Fireforge like a dog to the lime stone pillar. Nomscul bent over and began gnawing at a piece of twine on Basalt's wrist. 'Not that way! Oh, never mind!' Flint slit the bonds himself.
The delirious Basalt dropped onto his face. Perian rushed to the pool, scooped some water up in her cupped hands, and splashed it on the young dwarf's puffy cheeks, causing the dirt to turn to muddy streaks.
Basalt slowly came around, shaking his head and spray ing water. He rubbed his arms as his senses returned with the flow of his blood. Using the stalagtite for support, Basalt staggered to his feet and blinked furiously. His eyes focused first on the hill dwarf's expectant face.
'Uncle Flint?' He squinted. 'But you're dead!'
Flint feigned annoyance. 'First Garth, and now you! I wish people would stop saying that!' Laughing, he tried to gather his nephew up in a hug, though Basalt's bonds made that difficult. 'You look like you've been dragged behind a wild horse, son, but you sure are a sight for my sore eyes.
Garf and Cainker didn't do that to your face, did they)' He didn't wait for Basalt's reply.
'Nomscul!' he hollered, whirling on the shaman behind him. 'Where are the two reprobates who kidnapped my nephew, hauled him here on his face, then tied him to a stake'? As your king, I demand some answers!' Eyes wide with innocence, the gully dwarf shaman simply raised his thin shoulders and held his hands palm up in resignation.
'Now I know you're alive,' Basalt said, his weary voice laced with happiness. 'No one else bellows like.that. Don't be too hard on the dirt-eaters, though the gods know I've sworn at them for dragging me through frozen streams and over mountain roads for eight-odd fun-filled hours. I tried not to make it too easy for them.' He laughed, then coughed at the pain it inflicted on his sore face.
Suddenly his expression changed to puzzlement. 'Say, did I hear you call yourself 'king?' Where are we?' He looked at Perian, standing behind Flint. 'Who are we'?
What in the Abyss is going on here?'
Flint's eyes narrowed angrily. 'I knew it was too much to hope that they would have given you my note. You see, they weren't supposed to bring you here, just tell you I was OK.'
Flint's face turned the color of raw beef. 'I'll kill them with my bare teeth!' he stormed, hungrily looking about the room. But the gully dwarves were nowhere to be seen. Even
Nomscul had skulked out of the room.
Flint saw the expectant expression on Basalt's face. The el der Fireforge ran his hand up his forehead and through his hair, and tried to think of how to explain this muddle to Ba salt. He looked into his nephew's eyes, so like Aylmar's.
'You heard me right: I'm king of this gully dwarf city, known as Mudhole.'
'Did you lose a bet, or did you have to fight for the crown?' Basalt arched one eyebrow. 'You do have a crown, don't you?' With that, Flint's nephew threw his head back and laughed without restraint, without concern for his bruises. He laughed so hard he held his sides. Flint rolled his eyes and waited patiently while his nephew got the hysteri cal laughter out of his system. But Basalt would wheeze to a stop, look at Flint as if about to speak, and then burst out laughing anew. Flint crossed his arms and waited. He twid dled his fingers. Finally he began laughing himself.
Suddenly they both were startled by the sound of some one clearing her throat loudly. The mountain dwarf thrust her hand between the two at the younger dwarf. 'You must be Basalt. I'm Perian Cyprium.'
'My queen,' Flint added, his voice husky. Basalt gazed re spectfully at the attractive frawl.
'You may as well know right off, Basalt, if you haven't al ready guessed it,' Perian said, hooking her thumbs in her pants pockets in an almost challenging gesture. 'I'm a mountain dwarf.' She watched closely for his reaction.
As expected, Basalt's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'Now
I'm really confused.'
'I hope to remedy that immediately. Perian comes in a lit tle later in the story.' Flint took him by the arm and led him to the bench by the pool. 'This is going to be a long one, so we may as well get comfortable.'
Perian had found a small clay jug and fetched some water from the stream. She offered it to Basalt, who took it grate fully and gulped most of the water down, splashing the rest on his face to wash away the dried blood. The mountain dwarf sat on the moss near the hill dwarves, her arms linked around her knees, watching Flint as he prepared to tell his tale.
'I barely know where to begin,' Flint said, and a tense muscle twitched in his cheek.
'You know why I went into Thorbardin — to find the dwarf who murdered your father.' Flint's bright blue- gray eyes held Basalt's. 'And now I'll tell you what happened af ter I stepped inside the Theiwar's secret tunnel and a cage fell and imprisoned me…'
Flint returned to the bench beside Basalt, for the retelling of the events of the last week had agitated him so that' he could not sit still and had begun to pace.
'How many days will it take Pitrick to organize the troops he'll take to Hillhome?' Flint asked Perian.
Filled with pent-up energy herself, the mountain dwarf had begun to pitch flat stones into the pool during Flint's story. She stopped now and considered the answer, chewing her lip, ticking thoughts off on her fingers.
'Pitrick will use my troops, the thane's personal guard, which are some five hundred strong,' she began. 'He'll want to keep the action secret and they are the only force loyal to the Theiwar throne. Besides being excellent soldiers, they are all derro, and a few of them are spell-casting savants like
Pitrick. They'll leave at dusk, since they will be virtually blind during the day.'
'How long do you think that will take?' Flint pressed somewhat impatiently.
'It's not that simple!' Perian cried. 'There are many things to consider! The troops are in excellent parade shape, but we — they have not fought in battle aboveground, well, ever, during my time in the Thane's Guard, which is more than thirty years.
'He should take a fortnight, minimum,' she decided at last. Mindful of Flint's grateful nod, she quickly added, 'But
Pitrick will push them to leave in half that time, maybe less.'
He looked at her, seated at his feet on the moss, in sur prise. 'Fine. We can't possibly be there in less than three days ourselves.' He turned to Basalt. 'You see, I — we vowed on our honor that we would not leave the gully dwarves, and I will not break that vow. So the Aghar are going to have to come with us. But it will take me at least two days to find some way to get three hundred gully dwarves all mov ing in the same direction for nearly twenty miles. The thought boggles my mind.'
Perian stood and dropped her handful of stones into the pool with a plop! scattering fish. 'But if my guess is even nearly correct, that won't give us more than one, maybe two days to build up the town's defenses.'
'Or much time to persuade the townsfolk they even need defending!' Basalt chimed in.
Perian dusted moss clippings from her legs. 'But why wouldn't they believe us?' she asked, puzzled.
Both Flint and Basalt knew how good their word was in
