“We need passage on a ship heading far north,” she said. “What’s the best route to a port for that?”
“Far north?” Hammer-Stag frowned. “Why? Beyond Northlander coastal towns, villages, and trading posts, there is nothing but savages and icy wastes ... unless ...” He shook his head. “Ah, nothing for you up there.”
“Do you know a route?” she repeated.
His frown deepened, and he let out a resigned sigh. “Head west by northwest for two days by a horse’s stride until you find the coastal trade road. Follow that straight to the nearest coastal town, which should be Cantos, about five more days off.”
Magiere settled back in apparent relief.
“Only seven days?” she asked, and he nodded once. “Thank you.”
Then her gaze returned to the thôrhk around his broad neck.
So far she’d found only one use for her own—to open the orb of Water. Chap knew what she must be thinking: why would this dwarf wear such a device?
“Where did you ... What is that?” she asked carefully.
Leesil was silently but intently watching this exchange, even as a smudge-cheeked young maiden in burlap brought him a clay kettle and cup. She was trying not to stare at him—and failing.
All further talk ended as large bowls of lamb stew with potatoes and peas were plopped down before them. Then Hammer-Stag handed a mug of ale to Magiere; she took it with a nod but did not drink. Finally a wooden platter with a fresh loaf of dark forest bread was laid on the table.
The people fussed over Hammer-Stag and asked whether he needed more ale as they set out the meal. He shook his head with a brief smile, as he seemed pleased by Magiere’s last question. Once the villagers had no more reason to linger, he tapped one spiked end of his thôrhk.
“I am a thänæ among my people, an honored one,” he said. “Only those few such as I wear a thôrhk. I now further prove my worth in life through my deeds, if in death I hope to stand among the Eternals.”
The only part that mattered to Chap was that the dwarf’s thôrhk had meaning among his people but nothing to do with the purpose of Magiere’s similar one. She appeared to realize this as well and turned her attention to the meal.
Leesil leaned down to put a bowl on the floor. Chap lapped the gravy, though he kept his eyes on the room and everyone in it. The stew was savory with chunks of tender lamb. They had been living off jerky and dried fish for a moon, and before he knew it, he was licking the bottom of the bowl.
Amid shoveling mouthfuls, Hammer-Stag appeared about to speak again when Chap heard the common house’s door open. He looked up as two more dwarves entered. As they had with Hammer-Stag, the local people welcomed them in and offered food and drink. It was not until they were halfway in among the locals that Chap spotted the thôrhk through the split neck of the lead dwarf’s leather hauberk.
Hammer-Stag rose abruptly, leaving the remainder of his dinner on the table.
“Forgive me, but two companions just arrived. It is time to swap tales of our exploits. The telling is everything as the culmination of great deeds.”
Chap doubted Leesil could interpret the Numanese meaning for “culmination,” but Magiere seemed to follow the dwarf’s meaning. Deeds accomplished were told to others for some purpose among his kind beyond sharing news of events.
Hammer-Stag winked at Magiere. “You have earned your place in this telling always. From my lips to the Eternals’ ears!”
In spite of herself, Magiere tried to smile as she nodded to him.
Hammer-Stag grabbed his mug and was off with a final wink to join his companions at a table in the far corner. Chap did notice him wave over the proprietor—a large, scruffy man in a stained apron. They spoke briefly in low voices. Almost immediately the proprietor maneuvered through the tables to Magiere and Leesil.
“Are you finished?” he asked. “Had enough?”
Chap would have liked another bowl—maybe two—but Magiere answered, “Yes, we’re fine.”
“Then if you’re tired, I have a room out back. Not much, but one of my girls laid out mats and blankets. Any friend of the thänæwill always be favored here.”
Apparently being a friend of Hammer-Stag meant something in this small, isolated place.
As Magiere rose, Chap looked across the room and saw the dwarf raise his mug to them, as if in a gesture to say good night. Leesil nodded back, hefted his pack, and grabbed one end of the chest as he waited on Magiere. They were then ushered through a door in the room’s back and down a narrow passage to a small room.
“Told you it wasn’t much,” the proprietor said, setting a lantern by the door.
Though shabby, the room was clean, with three mats laid out with a small stack of woolen blankets nearby. The prospect of sleeping indoors on a full stomach finally appealed to Chap.
“It ... good,” Leesil said, and the proprietor nodded once and left them.
Chap trotted over to claim one mat, and as Magiere followed, she did something he had noticed her do more and more often. It had not troubled him at first, but it began to.
She dropped her pack on the outside mat and pulled the chest containing the orb up beside her bed. Leesil was watching her as well and looked to Chap.
Magiere’s nighttime ritual had become too common, as if she never wanted the orb far from her reach, even while she slept. During the days, she was also reticent to get too far from it. At first Chap had thought she was merely protective of it, as they all should be.
Leesil’s frown suggested otherwise—for both him and Chap. Leesil picked up two wool blankets and tossed one on Chap’s chosen mat.
Not noticing their scrutiny, Magiere removed her hauberk and lay down. Even as she closed her eyes, she reached out one hand as if to check again that the chest was there.
Chap paced in a circle, pawing the blanket out into a suitable nest. Leesil turned the lantern down but not out, and then dropped on his mat. But when Chap finally curled up, he made sure he could see the whole room, including Leesil ... and Magiere.
Perhaps she was simply being cautious until Chap could find a place to hide the orb forever.
A soft creak pulled Chap from his memory as he lay upon the cabin floor aboard the Cloud Queen. Magiere and Leesil were resting on a bunk, and Chap raised his head.
He tensed as the cabin door inched open little by little. His jowls drew back, exposing teeth, and a hooded head pushed through the narrow opening.
Leanâlhâm peered hesitantly at him.
“It is only me,” she whispered.
Chap relaxed with a sigh. What was she doing here and, more important, where was Brot’an?
Leanâlhâm hesitated upon seeing Leesil on a bunk.
Magiere, apparently asleep, was stretched out beside him with her head on his shoulder, but Leesil was awake, looking sickly again. He likely feared disturbing Magiere, for he only raised his head slightly at the sight of Leanâlhâm, and then silently waved her in before letting his head drop back against the bunk.
The girl almost retreated outside again.
Chap huffed softly rather than startle her with words called up from her memories. She finally stepped all the way in. Quietly closing the door, she stood there with her back against it. Perhaps she shied a little at meeting Chap’s watchful eyes.
The episode up on deck must have been traumatic for her. She looked lost and alone, and somehow bruised inside.