Outside his wife's room, Amantis leaned against the wall. The image of Charissa's face, twisted with an almost inhuman hatred, burned in his memory. He rubbed at his throat in anticipatory pain; it was too easy to imagine waking to that nightmare. He went back to his room and snatched up the pouch with the stone from its shelf and caught himself as he was about to throw it against the wall. How could it have failed him so utterly? In every other matter it had guided him perfectly! Yes she was now officially his wife, but what good was that?
He poured out some of the faeyn wine into a gold drinking bowl and drained it. The memory of Apaidia coming out of her bedroom, her large breasts swinging as she pulled on her robe, replayed in his mind. He poured himself another drink and drained the bowl, a nearly forgotten hunger stirring within him.
Hanging the pouch around his neck and snatching up the skin of wine, he grabbed a candle and headed for Apaidia's room. Once outside the door, he hesitated. Should he knock, or should he just barge in and take what he wanted? Would she refuse him? Would others find out and shame him?
He opened the door and stepped inside holding his candle.
Apaidia rose sleepily, the bed sheets falling away and exposing those breasts he remembered. She just looked at him sleepily a moment, then threw back the rest of the bedclothes, exposing her nakedness and smoothed the sheets beside her invitingly, a wicked smile spreading across her face, making her otherwise plain features far more interesting. "I wondered how long I would have to wait."
Amantis set the candle down and closed the door behind him. He slipped off his robe but carried the wine with him to the bed.
-=====|==
Hours later, Amantis emerged from her room in a happy delirium that had little to do with alcohol. He was, however, thirsty and so he headed for the cellar in search of something to drink. In his daze, he had neglected to bring the candle but brought the pouch containing his stone instead. Pushing open the door to the dark cellar stairs, he realized he didn't have a light so he closed the door behind him and pulled out his seeing stone.
Small pinpricks of light appeared like stars in the infinite depths of the stone, lighting up the stairs and filling his head with a never-quite-familiar wordless whispering. Amantis descended the stairs, marveling at the size of the cellar, and wondered at the walls which did not show any sign of having been carved with tools. The wooden floor creaked as he followed the smooth curve of the wall to a large shelf filled with clay jars.
Amantis inspected one huge jar and felt a draft of air sigh up from behind the shelf on which it sat. Deciding the curve of the wall must have left a space beyond the shelf, and since the jar was empty, he pulled it out to peer behind it.
A space just big enough to crawl through led to the back of the room and another opening in the wall. Stepping over a small pile of loose stones, he entered another stoma which, as stomas often do, opened into another and another like a chain of bubbles. As he descended into the ground, the cold stone walls began to run with condensation from the humid air. Finally, as the weight of all the stone hanging over his head began to grow almost unbearable, he paused in a chamber that echoed deeply with his footfalls. He held the seer stone aloft and it flared with unexpected light.
Stretching out before him into the distant shadows lay an underground lake. The water, without ripple and as clear and smooth as a summer sky, was only a few inches deep. Beneath it a layer of fine silt ran out into the middle of the lake where it rose up into a small rocky island.
Amantis stood on that strange dark shore, his head craning upwards as he turned in slow amazed circles and stared into the shadowed curve of the high ceiling. The whispering voices had stopped and the whole world seemed to hold its breath as if waiting for something to happen. Amantis stood for several minutes, unable to leave, the air filling with an indefinable tension. He wondered if the world had been this quiet when it was first pulled from out of the Void.
A moment later, he heard a distant rumbling. It seemed to rise up from the very heart of the world, growing in strength until the stone beneath his feet vibrated. Amantis wanted to turn and run to safety, to get out from under the tons of rock quivering overhead and casting down thin showers of dust, but then the dust began to move on its own. It fell into twisting spirals, forming something like a dust devil in the breathless air, growing tighter and denser until other spirals split and branched away like arms and legs.
In one horrible moment of revelation, Amantis sensed a powerful presence. He was not alone. The flying dust shaped itself into something like a man which approached him before collapsing into the water with a whispering hiss.
The seer stone fell into his hand, unexpectedly heavy, and as cold as ice.
The hiss seemed to say, "Bring me a body."
-=====|==
At the end of autumn near the new moon and the start of fall, Haydonae rose, scratching her head and watching the glorious sunrise. She walked out into the common area and suppressed a shiver from the receding cool air. The nights were definitely getting colder and winter would soon come. Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she strolled over to the golden stone, her favorite drinking bowl in hand. Her scream woke the entire village. In moments a hundred people stood wide-eyed and disheveled, staring at the stone.
The flow of milk had stopped.
As the villagers all stood opened-mouthed and unable to speak, Haydonae leaped at the still-full barrel, scooped her bowl in and guzzled the milk greedily. With an inarticulate roar, the villagers leaped behind her, each shoving their bowls into the barrel, splashing the milk on each other and grunting in pain as they pushed and elbowed their way forward. Haydonae found herself shoved backward and she fell, watching in uncomprehending horror as the villagers scrabbled at the barrel until their bowls scraped its bottom. Then the villagers all stopped and stared bleakly into the empty barrel.
A trickling sound drew Haydonae's attention back to the gold-covered rock. Fresh white milk trickled from the stone into the tilted bowl which poured into the barrel. No one moved or spoke until the milk had filled the barrel, then the flow stopped. Methus caught her attention with one swollen and blackened eye. He didn't have to say anything, she could read the fear on his face, but she had no idea what any of it meant.
-=====|==
"I tell you there is no more room to put anything," Kapalos said in an unusual fit of exasperation.
"And there's not even enough room for us to lie down," Cora complained. She was a large middle-aged woman who needed her space and was used to getting it with both fists planted firmly on wide hips and sharp-tongue wagging. Behind her stood a half-dozen sullen men and women whom she had corralled with the force of her complaints and dragged with her to the elders to demand more room in the stoma of Har-Tor.
With a helpless expression, Hasamo looked to Gerron who merely shrugged. The second harvest is only now starting to come in, and with young Karux's help, it appears to be much larger than the first," Gerron said.
"There is an opening to another stoma down below," Jomel observed. "Perhaps we can store something down there."
Hasamo shook his head. "That stoma is not large enough to make much of a difference and I haven't explored it further to see if there are more chambers further down. In truth, I fear where these underground passages may lead and what they may lead to."
"So where are we supposed to sleep?" Cora demanded after the circle of elders lapsed into silence.
"We could build warehouses in N'shia-Potoma," Sidaro suggested. "That should free up some space and we wouldn't have to haul all this food up the mountain's steep sides."
"This mountain's steep sides are what keep us safe!" Hasamo shook his head. "The whole reason we came to Har-Tor was because N'shia-Potoma did not offer us the protection we need. Unless you can find a way to enclose N'shia-Potoma within the walls of this mountain, we should be trying to think of a way to get the people of the market town in here, not send our people down there."
"That's a lot of people," Tragophan shook his head.
"There's no room as it is!" Cora objected.
"Maybe we should ask the dwerka to build one of their mountain cities for us?" Tragophan sighed.
"The silver-skins?" Sidaro laughed.
The other elders paused, surprised expressions growing on their faces. "Would it be possible?" Kapalos asked.
The elders looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
"Are you serious?" Sidaro asked.
"It would be a massive undertaking, but the dwerka could do it," Hasamo said.
"It wouldn't have to all be done at once," suggested Jomel. "We could start with a few storage chambers."
"And sleeping chambers!" Cora demanded.
"How much would it all cost?" Kapalos asked. "What would they even ask in trade?"
Tragophan cleared his throat. "The dwerka tend to keep to themselves, but when they do trade, they seem to want timber, textiles, meat, fish and baked goods. Those are all things they have difficulty providing for themselves."
Gerron turned to Hasamo. "Don't the dwerka come down to N'shia-Potoma about this time of year to trade?"
"Usually, but not always," Hasamo said. "I have no idea if they'll still come now that the angorym have taken over the northern valley."
"We should keep an eye out for them in case," Gerron said. "And if they show up, we should talk to them to see if they would be willing to help us."
Hasamo nodded. "Agreed. Since you've had more dealings with the dwerka up north, Tragophan, you should probably be the one to talk to them. Jomel, you should go with him since you're overseeing the gathering of the harvest and will be able to determine how much we'll have for trade." Jomel nodded his agreement. Then Hasamo turned to Karux. "You should go as well."
"Me?" Karux said, startled. "Why?"
Hasamo smiled. "Well, when it comes to providing the dwerka things they lack, I bet you have skills they could not duplicate. Perhaps you'll find a way to use your abilities to convince them to help us.
-=====|==
The dwerka showed up in N'shia-Potoma nearly a fortnight later. At the time, Karux sat outside the stoma on a rock ledge watching Eiraena laugh and juggle rocks without touching them. What amazed him the most were the hypnotic patterns the schemas made as they expanded and contracted and pushed and pulled each other like ripples in a pond bouncing off each other.
"Karux, they're here! We need to go catch up to Tragophan," Jomel said breathlessly after having raced up the path that wound up Har-Tor's side. Karux jerked his awareness back to the physical world, stood and hurried after him. "Be careful what you say to them," Tragophan warned as they walked into the village. "The dwerka are a sensitive lot. They don't take well to insults, especially any hint that they are somehow less than you."
Karux laughed. "Well they are rather short."
"See, that's exactly what I was talking about." Tragophan looked at Jomel. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to bring him along."
Jomel pursed his lips as if he were trying not to smile. "I'm sure he was just joking and will behave himself around the dwerka. Won't you?"
"Of course."
They found the dwerka going from grain merchant to merchant trying to find crops that hadn't already been promised for sale to Har-Tor. The dwerka all stood about four feet tall and looked like stocky children with slightly over-sized heads, hands and feet. They were dressed from head to toe in bright silvery metal. Even their faces were covered with a metal mask which only provided narrow slits through which they could see or breathe.
Tragophan introduced himself, speaking with uncharacteristic caution. When the dwerka found out that they were from Har-Tor they were very interested in finding out why they were buying up all the grain so that it was now hard for anyone else to obtain any. Tragophan assured the dwerka they had come to the village to discuss that with them and invited them to Khovan's for a meal and drinks.
Karux was a little surprised that Khovan's even had an interior eating area, as he and his family had always eaten outside when they had visited. Tragophan, Jomel and Karux led the dwerka inside and, once out of the sun, the dwerka removed their metal helmets and masks.
The dwerka were completely bald, without even a whisker on their round heads or long faces. Their eyes were very large and more human looking than the bwcca but with a similar stretched-face look that included a long flat nose, small mouth and chin. They squinted uncomfortably and wrapped cloth bands like a veil across their large eyes to further dim the already dim light of the room.
"I assume you already know of how the angorym have moved into the northern valley," Tragophan began.
The dwerka all flinched and froze, staring intently at the humans across the table. Karux held his breath as tension filled the room.
"Did you have something to do with that?" the dwerkan leader, Brakus asked cautiously.
"No!" Jomel blurted out. "They drove us out of the valley by killing our families and destroying our homes!"
The dwerka relaxed and continued eating.
"Before this happened, Karux here, received a vision from the Lord of the Mountain warning him that the angorym were going to attack," Tragophan continued.
This caught the dwerka's attention and they kept eyeing him as they methodically ate their fish and bread and enthusiastically drank their beer.
Tragophan went on to explain how Karux and his fellow villagers had trained to fight the angorym, how he had warned about a coming famine, how he had found a way to speed the growing of crops and worked to make sure they had plenty of food stored up. He then went on to explain how they needed more room in the mountain for both food and for people and cautiously asked if they might be willing to help them expand their living areas.
Brakus tore off a piece of bread. "I think we can help you with your problem." He stuffed the bread into his small mouth and seemed to savor it.
"You'll be able to dig out some storerooms for us?"
Brakus lifted his drinking bowl and made an off-hand gesture with it. "Cutting stone is no problem. I can have enough dwerka here in a sennight to cut a whole city in a maht."
Jomel and Tragophan exchanged surprised glances. "What would you want in trade?" Jomel asked.
"We would need room and board for a few hundred workers."
"We'll need to clear everything out of the stoma while you work. You could stay there," Jomel suggested.
"We'll also need the supplies we came for, mostly food to take back to our families...and this stuff," he tapped his drinking cup.
"Beer?" Jomel asked
"Is that what you call this?" Brakus asked.
Brakus' neighbor leaned into the conversation. "We will give you much work for beer!" he slurred.
Brakus gave him an irritated glance. Tragophan smiled at Jomel.
"I think we can come to an agreement," Jomel said.
"And we can help you with your problem," Brakus said.
"Our problem? You mean besides the lack of space at Har-Tor?"
"That's not a problem. That is an easy solution. Your real problem is the angorym," Brakus said.
"The angorym? You can help us with them?" Jomel asked.
Brakus put down his drink and stared intently at the humans across the low table. "The angorym do not make their own weapons or gather their own food. They hunt and live off the work of the dwerka." Brakus gestured at the large clay pitcher and Jomel refilled his bowl.
"We free dwerka have been driven further and further west and south until now there is nowhere else for us to go. Many of my brothers," Brakus tossed a glance at his companions, "have urged us to stand and fight the angorym, but it takes nearly a dozen of us to defeat one angoran because of their great size, and with their drwg, it is very hard to do."
"So you would like to help us fight the angorym?" Tragophan asked.
"There are a many among us who would refuse to help you. They fear we would simply be trading one master for another if we did help you fight them."
"So you're not going to help us?" Jomel asked.
"No, we would pay you to help us," Brakus said.
"Pay us? With what?" Hasamo asked.
"All the land between the mountains," Brakus said.
Tragophan dropped his drinking bowl.
"We, of course, would build our new cities inside the mountains," Brakus continued.
Tragophan jerked upright and slapped the table in anger. "This is an outrage!" You would have us help you fight the angorym and pay us with our own land?" he shouted.
The dwerka leaned back from the force of his blast, their small faces closing up like clenched fists.
"Now wait a minute, Tragophan!" Jomel turned on him. "We were prepared to fight the angorym by ourselves. If we had come to them for help, would we not have happily offered them the mountains in which to live? We're not using them—at least not the insides of them."
"Yes, but, to have to buy back our own land.... It's insulting!"
"What does it matter who takes the credit of giving the land to whom?" Jomel shouted. "The truth is that the land belongs to the angorym now and we'll both have to spend our blood to buy it back! If the dwerka are willing to spill their blood for a land they were not born to, well, I can think of no better friend or neighbor to have."
All the talk of blood caused the dwerka to blanch. They fidgeted as Jomel spoke until Jomel got to the "friend and neighbor" part of his speech, then turned small vindicated smiles on Tragophan.
With an expression of chagrin, Tragophan lowered his gaze to the table and muttered something that sounded like "...still insulting...."
"Brakus, we will need to hammer out the details, but I think we can accept your offer." Jomel held his hand out across the table. Brakus lifted his small hand and placed it in Jomel's and they shook.