'No!' Aliisza cried. 'That cannot be! I have not been here more than a tenday, perhaps two at most! No child could grow that fast! What is happening?'
Tauran smiled, one of those sad smiles that Aliisza had come to dread. It was a smile that meant, 'I am about to tell you that your world will come crashing down once more.'
'Time moves differently there, and here,' he explained. 'Where your body lies, time flows much faster. It has been the full term of your pregnancy there. Soon, your child will be born.'
'And here?' she asked, fearful of the answer.
'Here,' he answered, 'time moves much more slowly. Though it seems as though you have been here a tenday or more, beyond this place, only a single day has passed. You have completed but one day of your year- long sentence, Aliisza.'
'No!' Aliisza sobbed. 'You bastard!'
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dwarves, Vhok thought in disgust. Here, as far away from Faerun as I can possibly be, there are damnable dwarves!
The stout ones looked in many ways like their normal kin. Strong, sinewy arms and legs sprouted from thick, stumpy torsos. Though made of fire, their hair and beards were thick and bushy. Both their skin and clothing seemed fashioned of brass or bronze.
And most importantly, thought Vhok wryly, they are all frowning.
Those in the front rank brandished copper-colored war-hammers, while those in the back held short spears aloft. All of them were trying to approach the duo in a stealthy manner.
Invisible, the half-fiend realized. He grew angry that he and the priest had become careless, had stopped paying attention. We are tired, he thought. Tired idiots.
Vhok turned to Zasian to gauge the priest's intentions and spied another group of the flaming dwarves coming from the opposite direction. They, too, had been invisible a moment earlier, until Zasian's spell had revealed them. Between the two lines, they held both ends of the trail. They had planned their ambush well, for there was nowhere for the two travelers to run.
The two groups of fiery dwarves, realizing they had been exposed, slowed a bit and held their weapons higher. They eyed Vhok and Zasian warily but did not rush forward to attack, as the cambion expected. Instead, one from the first group stepped forward, a staff thrust toward the duo. 'You will surrender to us, outlanders,' he said in thickly accented Common. 'Or you will perish by flame and weapon.'
Zasian only stared. He seemed a bit bemused at the turn of events. He gave Vhok a glance. 'Well?' he asked. 'What do you want to do? Perish or surrender?'
Vhok realized the priest was barely preventing himself from bursting out in laughter. The cambion wasn't quite sure what was so amusing to the man. 'I hardly think this is funny,' he growled, low so the others couldn't hear him. 'More gods-forsaken dwarves, and we had to stumble into the middle of them. I never want to see another dwarf in my life!'
'Surrender now, or we will slay you!' the leader of the creatures called, a bit louder and more forcefully.
'A moment, please, my friend,' Zasian said, motioning to the dwarf for patience. 'We are discussing your terms.' He turned to Vhok and almost started laughing. 'It's funny because I know how put out you are!' Zasian said quietly, still smirking. The priest chuckled for a moment, then managed to straighten his face. 'In all seriousness, though, they have called for our surrender. Do you wish to fight our way out of this, or perhaps see if we can negotiate with them? We might convince them to guide us to the City of Brass.'
Vhok grimaced. 'I hardly think dwarves, hair afire or no, are interested in helping us,' he said. 'I'd as soon eat them alive as speak with them, and the feeling is mutual, I'm sure.'
'Not necessarily,' Zasian said. 'These beings dwell far away from Sundabar and the Silver Marches. There's no reason to assume that they are aware of your animosity toward their kin or your reputation back home.'
The leader of the dwarves, apparently impatient over the travelers' refusal to respond, barked orders at his squads of soldiers. The dwarves on both sides closed in on Vhok and Zasian. From a back rank, one even lofted a short spear into the air. The weapon struck the ground near Vhok's feet and wobbled there for a moment.
'I'll kill them all,' Vhok hissed, reaching for Burnblood. 'Every last one of them.'
'No,' Zasian admonished, taking hold of the cambion's arm. 'Restrain yourself.'
Vhok was on the verge of yanking his arm free, but the tone of the priest's voice gave him pause. He turned to glare at the man instead, to warn him against ever laying an unwelcome hand upon himself again.
'I told you I would speak plainly when I thought your actions were folly,' Zasian said as the dwarves closed in. 'Well, this is one such time. You do nothing to further your own cause by fighting them. They are intelligent-we can reason with them. Give it a chance before you become berserk with bloodlust against them.'
Vhok clenched his teeth in fury, unwilling to acknowledge that the priest had a point. He only wanted to wreak havoc among the flame-haired nemeses and be done with them. But he knew that Zasian was right. Both of them were exhausted from travel and battle, and what they really needed were allies rather than enemies. Once more, he was being forced to trust where trust did not come naturally.
'All right,' he said, yanking his arm out of Zasian's grasp. 'We'll try it your way first.' He released his blade, letting it slide back into its sheath, and held up his hands in supplication. 'We agree to your terms,' he called to the dwarves. 'We have no wish to fight you.' Then he turned and whispered fiercely to the priest, 'But if this doesn't work out well for us, I will flay you along with Myshik!'
Zasian's stare was cold and indignant, but he didn't say anything.
The dwarf leader insisted that the pair drop all their weapons. It took several moments for the two prisoners to explain that their goods would burn to a crisp should they let them go.
'You have our word that we shall not lift a finger against you,' Zasian said, 'but we cannot allow our belongings to leave our possession. However,' he added, reaching into his tunic, 'we can offer you this as a show of good faith.'
The nearest dwarf drew up in alarm when the priest began pulling something out, and the others raised their weapons higher, ready for trouble.
Seeing their concern, Zasian paused and smiled. 'It is nothing to harm you, I promise. It is merely a token of our trustworthiness.' He withdrew his hand slowly, letting them see that he held only a simple pouch.
Vhok recognized it as one of the numerous packets of gems they had brought with them to aid in smoothing negotiations once they reached the City of Brass. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Zasian revealing how wealthy they were, but it was too late to object. If those dwarves were as greedy for the bright, shiny things as the dwarves back home, they might be softened up by such a gift.
On the other hand, the cambion thought, they might try to tear us limb from limb to see if we have more.
Zasian carefully opened the pouch and sprinkled a few amethysts into his palm. He held the gemstones out for the leader to see. The dwarf's bright, pupil-less yellow eyes burned brighter and he reached toward the stones with one hand. Very quickly, Zasian slipped the gems back into the small pouch and set the entire bag into the dwarf's palm.
'I would find something else to put those in,' he suggested. 'That bag is likely to turn to ash in a matter of moments.'
The dwarf stared at the priest for several breaths, as if appraising him, then nodded and produced a small copper urn from within his belongings. He dropped the gems, pouch and all, into the urn and put it away.
'Your gift is most generous,' he said, 'though as our prisoners, everything you own belongs to us anyway. Do you have more?'
Zasian drew himself up and gave the dwarf leader a commanding stare. 'We would prefer to think of ourselves as your guests,' he said imperiously. 'And consider carefully that you managed to get your hands on those without any sort of struggle. To obtain more, against our wishes, would be much more difficult. The loss of life would be tremendous, hardly worth the effort.'
