wasn’t till later that I was found out. Dwarven coins are never counterfeited, so it’s rare anyone would want to test one. But human merchants aren’t quite as trusting. A big buggering miner came to our city, looking to sell some iron he’d dug up. When he was paid, he bit into one of my coins, the way humans do.”
“That’s how we know it’s real gold, and not polished brass. Real gold is soft enough to take an impression.”
“Aye, I know it too fucking well, lad. This miner broke his tooth.”
Malden chuckled.
“You can’t imagine the uproar! Dwarves are honest folk, everybody knows that. It’s something they count on. If there’s ever even the slightest whiff of corruption in our dealings with humans it could be a fucking catastrophe. There was an investigation, and all the evidence led straight back to me. I was tumbled, all right.”
“And so they exiled you. There are worse punishments?”
“We don’t do capital punishment, not my people. There aren’t enough of us left for that,” Slag said. “And we consider exile bad enough. It’s different for us than for humans, ain’t it? It’s fucking worse. An exiled human just goes to the Northern Kingdoms and starts a new life. There is no other dwarven land. You have to go live among humans, finding what work you may. Never to see your family again. Never to marry, never to have a family of your own.” He sighed deeply. “It’s worse’n hanging, frankly. I’m like the opposite of one of yon undead bastards. They’re dead but refuse to accept it. I’m still alive, but I feel half the time like I’m already dead.”
“I had no idea that living in Ness was so hard on you. There are plenty of dwarves living there, and they don’t seem to mind it as much.”
Slag shrugged. “It was worse for me than for others. They know that once they make some money they can go home again. When they turned me out I had no choice but to head south. Even in Ness, though, no other dwarf would hire me. They couldn’t trust me, you see? Never again. That’s how I ended up with Cutbill.” Slag looked Malden up and down. “Cutbill takes any old baggage that comes along.”
“Did he know this story?”
“Much of it. That’s why when you told him you were going to the bloody Vincularium, he thought I’d be interested. He knew I was always looking for a way back home. Figured there’d be something here I could trade for forgiveness. Our people are the same as yours in one way-if you’re rich enough, nobody asks how you came by the money.”
“Oh, aye,” Malden said. “A rich man can buy his way out of a noose.”
“Or out of exile, mayhap. But you heard what Balint said about that. You were there. I’ve got an arsehole’s chance of ever going home. And now-well, if I’m still alive this time tomorrow, I’ll probably be wishing I weren’t. This whole venture was one colossal cock-up. I’ve got nothing left.”
“Which means nothing to lose,” Malden said. “So you’re trying to break this bar.” He ran a finger along the surface where Slag had peeled off his sliver. “So we can escape.”
“No, lad. I was thinking if I could get a piece of it sharp enough, I could cut my own throat and get this over with faster.”
Chapter Seventy-three
Eventually the light at the top of the stairs went out, leaving them in total darkness. Slag snored noisily by the gate, but after a while even that sound stopped registering on Malden’s ears and all was still. Cythera wrapped her arms around him, and he held her close. She had stopped shaking. The pain in his back was still there, though. It felt like his body expected at any moment to be stabbed through the vitals.
It was not a good feeling. It left him restless and irritable. The third time he shifted his weight, Cythera sat up and whispered in his ear, “Every time you move you wake me. Try to get comfortable, Malden. Or it will be a very long night.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. She settled back into his arms but her shoulder blade jabbed him in the side and he moved again.
He felt her weight leave him, and he panicked. Like a babe separated for the first time from its mother. “No,” he said, his voice plaintive and hurt. The emotion in his words surprised him, but he couldn’t help it. “No, please. Don’t go away.”
“I’m right here. I couldn’t go very far if I wanted,” she told him. “What’s wrong? Beyond our obvious predicament.”
“I can’t take this,” he told her. “Being confined. It’s-It’s worse than torture. My whole life I’ve been fighting to be free. To do as I choose, go where I want-and it seems like I’ve been running from one cage to another!”
She kissed him gently on the temple. Her hands caressed his face.
He was breathing heavily but not with lust. The comfort she gave him was something he desperately needed, something he could not live without. “At least you’re here with me,” he told her.
“Always,” she said.
“I almost believe you when you say that. You’ve forgiven me for my fancies. And my liberties,” he said, thinking of how angry she’d been with him in the Hall of Masterpieces. “You love me. You said as much when you thought the elves were going to kill me.”
“I remember. I was foolish enough to think that would save you. I thought it might move them and they would take pity. It seems stupid now, but at the time it was all I could think of.”
He bit his lip. He was certain there had been more to it. That she was making an excuse now. If he gave her any leeway, she would slip from his grasp again. He wanted to keep silent but he couldn’t. “If we get out of this alive-”
“Suggest no other possibility,” she told him.
“When we escape,” he told her, “you have to tell Croy about us.”
She sighed deeply and put her arms around his waist. “And why do I have to do that?” she asked, sounding as if she knew she would regret the answer.
“Because we’re in love! Because you don’t love him. He still thinks you’re going to marry him when we get home.”
She was quiet for a time. A time far too long for Malden’s liking.
“If Croy were here right now, before me, I would marry him on the spot,” she said. “Malden-I said what I said. And I can’t lie to you now, I do care for you. But I would have said anything at that moment, anything that might have swayed them. Anything that might have saved you. What I feel for you, Malden-it isn’t right. It isn’t the way my life is supposed to work out. I’m sorry.”
He started to protest but suddenly realized he could see her face. Light was streaming down from the top of the stairs.
An elfin soldier came clattering down, carrying a torch. The two revenant gaolers lifted their swords, but the soldier said something soothing and they lowered their weapons again.
When he peered into the stockade and saw Malden and Cythera holding each other, a wicked smile twisted his thin lips. “If you were about to mate, please don’t let me stop you. I’ll just wait here and observe.”
“Piss off,” Slag moaned, sitting up. The dwarf wiped sleep from his eyes and rose to his feet.
The elf kicked the bars. Slag jumped backward and the elf laughed.
“You,” the soldier said, pointing at Malden. “When we captured you, weren’t you wearing a sword?”
Malden blinked at the elf but said nothing.
“What is your name?”
“You might as well tell him,” Cythera said. “What difference does it make?”
“Malden,” the thief said.
“What? Speak up. Is it Croy?”
Cythera’s arms gripped him tighter.
“No,” Malden said, raising his voice. “I’m Malden.”
The soldier frowned. “How vexing. I’m supposed to fetch a Sir Croy. I was told he would be among the captives, and you were the only one with a sword, so-”
“Well, you’ve fucking found me,” Slag announced.
