“You’ll do no such thing,” Retsa said sharply, “not with that leg!”
Alea didn’t argue the point, largely because she realized that she’d been assuming she and Gar would go back to the village with the dwarves—but they hadn’t been invited, and she noticed that the dwarves who weren’t busy with the pigs were still holding their crossbows, and that they were loaded. They weren’t particularly pointed toward herself and Gar, but on the other hand, they weren’t pointed away, either. For the first time, it occurred to her that they might not be welcome among the small people.
They came up to the main group, and Alea saw that a third of them were women. Only the two bow-carriers were the size of Midgarders—five and a half feet—but the others varied, one scarcely more than two feet tall, others four feet or more. The fairy-tale version of nasty, spiteful Alberich, the dwarf who stole the Rhinegold, and his equally cruel little kin, seemed very far from the reality. The dwarves looked as massive as the giants, though on a far smaller scale. They were also obviously compassionate and concerned for one another and even for these two huge strangers, though Alea did notice a few wary glances. Under the circumstances, she could hardly blame them.
As they came up, one of the older men was saying to Gar, “You have my sympathy for your slavery, and my admiration for your escape, but how does that answer my question?”
“I encountered some giants,” Gar told them, “and found that all the Midgarder scare-stories were complete lies. That made me wonder if the dwarves had been slandered just as thoroughly, so I set out to visit Nibelheim and discover the truth. On the way, I was lucky enough to meet this young woman, and we’ve been traveling together ever since. After we came into the North Country, we stayed overnight with some giants.” He drew Garlon’s letter out of his tunic. “One gave us a character reference.”
The dwarf looked surprised, but he took the letter, opened it, and, to Alea’s amazement, actually read it without even moving his lips! In fact, it only took him a few seconds, then he returned it to Gar with a brusque nod and said, “Well, if you’re seeking Nibelheim, you’ve found it, though we’re a colony village almost on the border of the North Country.”
“We’ve come out of the North Country, then?” Alea asked in surprise, then bit her tongue.
But the dwarf didn’t rebuke her for speaking out of place—he turned to her as though it were the most natural thing in the world for a woman to talk about serious matters, and nodded. “You crossed into Nibelheim some hours ago—not too long after sunrise, I’d guess. We don’t expect trouble so far north, but we patrol anyway. We’ve come across the odd robber band now and again. Mostly, we bring home pork or beef.”
The crossbows lowered, as though by accident, and the dwarves began to discuss the event with one another with frequent glances at the two strangers.
“Shall we trust them?” the dwarf asked his fellows.
“The woman has a good heart,” Retsa said. “Her name is Alea.”
“Welcome among us then, Alea,” the dwarf said, with a nod of the head that was almost a bow. “You too, Gar. Will you be our guests for the night?”
Gar glanced at Alea; with a shock, she realized he was asking her opinion. She recovered and gave him a one-inch nod. “Gladly,” Gar told the dwarf, then turned to Alea. “May I present Master Bekko?”
“A pleasure to meet you, lass,” Bekko said. “I take it you’ve already met Retsa and her daughter Saret.” He was obviously saying that for Gar’s benefit. “These are Obon, Mala, Robil…”
He introduced the members of the band, each of whom nodded. Alea managed to recognize the nods as signs of greeting in time to return them; so did Gar. When the introductions were done, the big man said, “Since you saved us by killing so many pigs, you must let us help carry them to your village.”
“Not Alea,” Retsa said quickly. “She has a wound in her leg.” Gar turned to her in alarm.
“Only a scratch,” Alea said quickly, but Gar didn’t look convinced.
Retsa assured him, “It’s more than that, but not bad at all, and will heal in a week. Still, she shouldn’t go carrying any more of a load than she has to, at least not today.”
Gar seemed somewhat reassured. “Well, I’ll carry a balanced load myself, then.” Before anyone could object, he strode over to the pile of pigs, took four bound feet in each hand, and came back to Bekko, the two carcasses swinging. “I feel a bit better about accepting your hospitality now.”
Bekko laughed, reached up to slap him on the arm, and turned to lead the way home.
The dwarf village stood on a hill above the forest. Their first sight of it was a sort of crown on top of the slopes, one with dark points. As they climbed up to it, they saw that it was an earthen wall with a palisade of sharpened logs slanting outwards.
“We’ll bring some giants to build us a proper wall,” Bekko said, almost in apology, “as soon as we’ve made enough radios to trade for their labor.”
“How many is that?” Gar asked.
“Twenty is the going price,” Bekko answered, “if we can offer a computer with it.”
Gar stared down at the man. “You make computers?” Bekko nodded. “When our ancestors first escaped from Midgard, one band found a metal hut in the forest.”
“A big hut,” Retsa added.
“Very big,” Bekko agreed, “but it had to be, for it had a machine in it that was as big as a house itself.”
“Bigger,” Robil said. “I’ve seen it.”
Obon snorted. “We’ve all seen it. Every child goes to see it when he’s in school.”
“School?” Gar asked mildly, but Alea glanced at him quickly, and could have sworn she saw his ears prick up. “Yes, we have schools, stranger.” Retsa smiled, amused. “Children have much to learn if they’re to make radios and computers, after all.”
“They certainly do,” Gar agreed. “What was the big machine?”
“It had wings, so our ancestors were able to recognize that it had flown once. When they read about it later, they found it was a thing called a ‘shuttle,’ for carrying people and cargo into the sky, to the ship that had brought them from the stars.”
“And even a shuttle had a computer.” Gar nodded.
“It taught our ancestors to read—in Midgard, the ordinary people had forgotten how, when everything fell apart, and only the priests still knew. Then it showed them how to make radios and more computers.”
“It had to teach them a good deal of mathematics and physics first, didn’t it?”
All the dwarves glanced at him keenly, but Bekko only said, “That’s part of learning how to make such things, yes. Where did you say you came from?”
“Very far away,” Gar told him, “but I didn’t realize the Midgarders would enslave a stranger. I take it that once you had radios, you started talking with the giants.”
“Well, the Midgarders weren’t about to talk to us,” Retsa said with a wry smile.
“They started using a different kind of modulation, so that we couldn’t overhear them.” Bekko grinned. “We learned how to make receivers for it. We listen to them now, though they don’t know it.”
“I wonder if they still listen to you?” Gar said idly, gazing at the sky.
Bekko stared at him, startled at the thought, then exchanged glances with Retsa, then Obon. All had the same wide-eyed look. Alea guessed that they hadn’t thought they might be the objects of eavesdropping as well as the listeners.