“And you’re from the Horncall clan,” she said to Brogus.
“How did you know that?” said Brogus with his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. “Are you a witchy woman?”
Dol, on the other hand, said nothing and kept an impassive expression.
“Of course I’m a witchy woman,” she said with a smile that revealed at most half a dozen teeth. “You think an old woman can live out here in the wild without being a powerful witch?”
“I hadn’t thought about it,” said Brogus with a smile, “people always say I’m a little bit slow. Mom always says I got the brawn but not the brains.”
The old woman laughed out loud, “Fair enough then, fair enough. Now, dearies, I’ve got a kettle of Meadow-Wort stewing over there but we can put something for eating on in about two hours. Can you wait that long? You look famished.”
The three travelers looked at one another and shrugged at almost exactly the same moment, “I think we can wait,” said Milli. “What’s Meadow-Wort?”
“I’m kind of hungry now,” said Brogus in a whisper but a sidelong look from Milli, filled with menace, immediately silenced him.
The old woman hooked her arm under Milli’s and led her over to the large kettle which was at a low boil. “Some folks call it Lady of the Meadow but we witchy types like to go with the most foul sounding name. It impresses the yokels. Meadow-Wort has a sweet flavor but I use it for aches and pains not for spicing. You boil the roots with water for a few hours and then let them dry. Once they’re ready I powder them and add a little secret of mine that I don’t like to give out, you understand I’m sure. The powder is good for headaches and the like but it does tend to upset the stomach and that’s why I add my special ingredient. Are you interested in the herbal ways? You’re a beautiful girl, there’s not a lot of call for types like you in the witchy world.”
“I’m an old hand at flattering people to get what I want,” said Milli as she turned to the boys with a smile and squeezed the old woman’s arm, “so don’t try that with me.”
Old Petra guffawed out loud and put her arm all the way around the little Halfling girl, “I’ll make a witchy woman out of you, pretty or not. Come over here and let’s talk. You boys get some more firewood, stoke that blaze. I’ve got cooking gear in the wagon, get that and bring it out. I know dwarves, yes I do. You just might find a keg of hard cider in there as well. Tie your mules up next to Harpus there and get to work.” With that proclamation the woman led Milli over to the boiling kettle and left Brogus and Dol to carry out her orders.
Three hours later the four sat before a low fire with half a dozen pots and pans scattered around the clearing, a jug on its side near Brogus, empty plates on their laps, and full bellies.
“You’re quite a cook, Old Petra,” said Brogus leaning back and patting his belly. “I haven’t eaten that well in almost two weeks, since we…” He suddenly stopped and clamped his mouth shut.
The old woman glanced towards Brogus with a flicker of her eyes but then continued on as if she didn’t notice the sudden end to the sentence. She put one last forkful of food in her mouth and then smiled broadly at him, “I guess you don’t want any pie then?”
“Pie?” said Brogus with a huge grin. “I never said I was full. By the way, how did you know my family is the Horncalls?”
Petra smiled, “I’ve met quite a few traveling dwarf caravans over the years. You have the jaw line of the Horncalls and you certainly don’t have the demeanor of a Firefist, Blackiron, or Drawhammer. Even if you were an apprentice fleeing your indemnity you’d have the arrogance of one of the three families.”
“What do you know about the three families?” said Dol as he stood and began the cleaning process. He didn’t wait for the woman to answer but immediately started gathering up pots, pans, and plates.
Petra nodded her head and gave off a short little snort like laugh, “You dwarfs and your hidden citadel. Do you really think no one knows about Craggen Steep? It’s been up in the mountains for a thousand years at least and times are changing out here in the world. Corancil tamed the north, brought down the Fist of Stav’rol, the Iron Gates of Das’von; he’s negotiated a peace with the sea kings of Sea’cra, and now he’s planning to invade the southern realms. It’s only a matter of time before he turns his eye towards the gold in those mountains. If I know about it, then you can bet he does as well.”
Dol looked at Brogus, Brogus looked at Milli, and Milli looked at Dol. “She has a point,” said Brogus with a shrug of his shoulders. “Now that I think about it, it does seem rather silly to think people don’t know about us. We send out trading caravans. There’s that road leading right up to the mountain.”
“Do you know where Corancil is right now?” said Milli. “We hoped to join his army and head south with the invasion.”
The old woman watched as Dol carefully cleaned each plate of debris, putting the scraps in a little paper sack which, when full, he tossed well away from the camp, “I can take you there if you’d like. I’ll need payment of course,” she said with a little shrug.
“How much,” said Milli with a sideways glance at the old woman.
“A gold coin a day seems reasonable,” she said with a frown. “It is out of my way and I’d be losing all the clients who come to me here for their potions and such.”
“That’s no problem,” said Brogus with a smile and immediately began to reach for the pouch hidden away deep in his jerkin.
“We should talk about this,” said Milli and tried to stop Brogus.
Brogus ignored the girl, stood up, rummaged around under his thick fur coat, pulled out a sack that made a loud chink, extracted a dozen heavy gold coins, and then handed them to the old woman, “That’s good for a couple of weeks, right?”
Petra blinked rapidly for a few seconds and then held out her own hand to take the offering, “Yes, maybe a little more than that.”
Brogus gave her the coins, which she lifted up and down for a few seconds unable to keep a wide smile off her face, “Did you say something about pie?” he asked with a broad smile and tucked the still heavy pouch away.
“Oh,” said Petra suddenly emerging from her reverie with a wide smile on her face. “Yes, of course, a pie. No extra charge!”
Chapter 9
The snow covered mountains to the north of Das’von reflected the blinding winter sunlight into the glacial bay for only a few hours during the deepest winter months but the city itself thrived year round. Now, with the army of Corancil gathered in a ramshackle tent encampment built outside of the city the place thrummed with the life of not only the huge influx of people but also from the massive ongoing construction projects that sprang up at virtually every corner. Dol, Milli, Brogus, and Petra spent their first two days after arriving at the city simply trying to get into the center of town but utterly failed in that endeavor. The ancient city was being transformed from wood to brick and stone at a frenetic pace and much of the central region that housed the bustling expanded government of Corancil was off limits to anyone accept workers and diplomats.
It didn’t take long for the three mountain dwellers to learn the value of the gold coins that they carried. Petra steadfastly refused to give them a return on their original and vast overpayment for services. “Consider it an expensive lesson,” she said once and then refused to take up the subject again. Eventually they settled outside of the city in a ramshackle zone used by soldiers, hangers-on, and other never-do-wells that always seem to accumulate around conquerors. It was dirty, unpleasant, and overcrowded but there was no denying the buzz of energy all over the city. Despite the conditions people almost universally wore smiles on their faces and went about their business in a cheerful fashion.
On this bright and sunny day, Dol and Brogus climbed out of the ramshackle hut a quarter mile outside of town that had served as their domicile since they arrived at the city almost two weeks before. “It’s impossible,” said Brogus as he looked around with bleary, morning eyes despite the fact that it was already noon. To their north lay the city where a thousand workers scrambled over the old walls tearing them down stone by stone as they expanded the outer perimeter. “We’ve been here two weeks and we can’t even get near the palace. There are ten thousand soldiers in tents and twice that many petitioners trying to get to see Corancil. This was a mistake
