'You're making progress,' he congratulated her when she took a seat beside him.
'I know, but it's a big wharf we've got to defend-all the way around the island. We still have nowhere near enough troops to hold the whole line.'
'I'm sure it won't come to that,' Tarn declared earnestly.
'Well, I hope your trip to Daerbardin can help keep the peace. Are you going soon?'
'I have a berth on the next lake boat, but I'm sure I can get a seat on the one after that. Tomorrow, if you can get a little time away.' He took her hand, looked at her warmly. 'We haven't had a chance lately… but maybe now…'
'Not now.' Belicia surprised him with the sharpness of her tone. ' have important work to do. I'm teaching a hundred youngsters to shoot bows and arrows and these recruits have work to do on the city's defenses. And you, too, have a mission to accomplish.'
'Yes, I do.' He flushed and stood up. 'I can see that's what matters!'
'Tarn, grow up! Of course it's what matters!' Belicia shook her head in exasperation. 'But you might remember that you've been hanging around the docks for months, doing a whole lot of nothing. You had time then, and so did I! But it seemed to me you weren't ready to take advantage of it.'
He hung his head. 'I guess you're right,' he said stiffly, stung because so much of what she said was true. He remembered weeks, months of lethargy when nothing seemed important or urgent. Time had stretched away from him then, an apparently eternal stream of placid ease.
And now that lost time suddenly seemed precious.
'Do you think you'll be allowed to see the thane of the Daergar?' asked Belicia.
'I think so. First, I'll stop and see my mother. She's gone back to her family home near the port. With any luck, she'll be able to help me get a proper interview.'
'I wish you good luck with your mission,' Belicia said in obvious sincerity. 'And… and I'll look forward to seeing you when you get back. All right?'
But he was still too stung and too proud to soften in the face of her pleasantries, so they parted with uncertainty lingering in the air between them.
He made his way to the east dock, where the passengers were boarding the chain ferry to Daerforge. Unlike the slender, sharp-prowed freeboats that plied the waters around all the dwarven cities, the ferry was wide and raftlike. This also insured that it was large and stately, offering comfortable booths and even sleeping accommodations to those who wished to nap over the six hour voyage. Now the craft was nearly full of passengers, mostly dark dwarves, though Tarn saw representatives from all the other clans-except the Aghar, of course.
This was perhaps his tenth voyage on such a ferry, but he still watched with fascination as the great hook lowered from the chain that was slowly clanking over the boat. The progress of the metal links slowed into an eerie silence and dwarf boatmen swiftly latched the steel prong onto the prow. Tarn braced his feet as the gears overhead resumed with a sturdy lurch and the broad ferry was pulled away from the dock. A small wash of water rippled away from the hull as the craft began its slow, steady progress across the lake.
He found his berth amidships, a comfortable couch in a booth which he shared with three Daergar. The largest and most vocal quickly introduced the three as workmen who had helped to deliver the most recent shipment of raw steel. He was a black-bearded hulk with wide set eyes, now squinting against the Hybardin dock lights. He cheerily offered the half-breed a bottle, and Tarn swilled down a fiery draught of fungus wine.
'We've got a spot of pay. Plannin' to pass the time with a few throws of the dice. Join us, if you've the cost of a game,' he suggested with a look of appraisal at Tarn's silk jacket and elegant, polished boots.
'It would be a pleasure,' the half-breed agreed readily, producing a few steel coins without putting any real dent in his purse.
They passed the bottle and the hours, gambling with an assortment of pegs and spikes cast in various patterns onto the deck. The lights of Hybardin soon faded into an agreeable wash in the background as the clinking chain pulled their craft farther across the silent sea. Even from a great distance the Life-Tree stood outlined in its funnel shape, marked by thousands of twinkling lights that gradually merged into a general glow.
Tarn enjoyed the crude, easy sociability of the dark dwarves. He liked the way his comrades insulted each other without taking offense. It was an interesting contrast, he thought, to the way things were managed among the Hylar. Even saying farewell to Belicia had seemed to him like walking through a maze of verbal traps.
And at least one of those traps had been sprung, he reflected ruefully. Suddenly wishing that he'd been more sensitive and understanding during that conversation, he vowed to make it up to the dwarfwoman as soon as he saw her again.
Finally, with his head swimming slightly and his purse poorer by a score of steel pieces, Tarn felt the darkness that was the true underworld settle all around him. Daerforge rose from the black distance, and his keen eyes made out the terraces and balconies, the bulwarks and towers that jutted from the steep cliffs surrounding the dark dwarf harbor. There, near the top of the crest, just before the wall curved outward to form the lofty roof over the underground sea, he saw the proud bastion of House Bellowsmoke, his mother's great manor.
The surroundings were fully black, with no sign of lantern or fire, but as the boat pulled into a stone-walled slip carved into the bedrock of the waterfront, Tarn was struck less by the darkness of this city than by its strange silence. There was activity all over the place-cargoes loaded onto other boats nearby, here a hundred passengers debarking from the chain ferry, there crowded into a narrow plaza arcing between the sea and the cliff, a thriving market bustling with sellers and buyers alike. Yet everywhere the Daergar went about their business stealthily. They spoke no louder than a hushed whisper, and even the scuffing of the steel-hulled boat against the stone wharf was but a muted scrape. Only when the doors of a waterfront inn burst open did the true and raucous nature of the dark dwarves echo across the docks for a few minutes.
Weaving slightly as he bid farewell to his traveling companions, Tarn realized that the fiery wine had been surprisingly potent. Still, he was able to climb out of the boat and make his way through the dockside plaza to the base of a long, curving path. He started uphill, and was soon out of breath. This was a grade that really could have used a flight of stairs, he thought with a ragged gasp-and he was only just now coming to the second level of the city!
Daerforge had three different elevations. On this second one he paused to catch his breath and to take a look over the lake. Below him was a sprawling slope that looked like a garbage dump or the refuse of an ancient landslide. He remembered that this was Agharbardin, the home of many thousands of gully dwarves, though from this height he couldn't see any signs of activity in the ravines and troughs among the great rocks.
Moving up again, Tarn passed great manors, each a blocky structure more than half-buried in the bedrock of the steep mountainside. Some were guarded by spiked towers, others by lofty walls with many twists and turns. The pathway skirted the base of some houses and overlooked more of them as it climbed. Tarn saw that the stone houses were well fortified from above as well. Chutes had been excavated between many of the structures, insuring that any large band of attackers could be swept into a trap that would send the whole company cascading downhill. He had visited here many times since his earliest years, but had never before noticed this defense. Indeed, as he looked around, it occurred to him that the Daergar seemed quite a bit better prepared for war than were the Hylar.
Finally he stood before the lofty gate, a steel ramp upraised between two tall towers of black marble. A ditch, dark and full of pungent muck, blocked his path. He recognized the stone drum beside the moat. He pounded on the hollow boulder with the hilt of his sword, three long raps followed by a trio of staccato taps.
At the signal that identified him as one of the family, chains immediately clanked through their gears and the steel ramp slowly and quietly began to descend. By the time it provided him with a walkway, Tarn could see servants and a gateman waiting to receive him.
'Master Tarn,' declared Karc, a grizzled footman Tarn had known since his earliest years, 'It is an honor to have you among us again.'
He allowed the attendants to remove his cape and satchel and was shown into a parlor while Karc went to find his mother. Garimeth materialized shortly thereafter, just as he was uncorking the carafe of mead that had been presented to him by a bowing servant.
'I was expecting you,' Garimeth Bellowsmoke said, 'though I didn't think you would get here quite so soon.'
'I am here on business, I'm afraid,' Tarn replied, pouring a couple of glasses and passing one to his mother. 'Duty calls. I am on a mission for the thane.'
