‘He’ll want to see me.’
‘Will he now?’ the dwarf said. He gave a thin whistle, and several more dwarfs, all dressed in dark clothing and armour, rose from their hiding places, all carrying crossbows. Neferata blinked, impressed. She hadn’t even smelled them. ‘Well then, rinn, let’s see about that, shall we?’ The dwarf jerked his crossbow and Neferata and Rasha were surrounded by the other dwarfs. The whole group began to climb the slope.
They made good progress, despite having to stop when the shadow of a wyvern skidded across the rocks nearby. Luckily, orcs weren’t the most observant of creatures, and the outriders were more concerned with reaching the battle than with securing the horde’s flanks.
The aperture was well hidden. It took Neferata, with all her superior senses, three tries to spot it, and only then because she caught the steady thrum of dwarf heartbeats as the stone that blocked the opening was rolled aside. She and Rasha were led into the darkness of the steeply angled tunnel beyond. The entirety of the slope had apparently been honeycombed with tunnels that went off in seemingly random directions.
There were a number of dwarfs in evidence; dozens, in fact. Not quite a fighting force, but more than just observers, judging by the weapons they carried. Many of them wore the aprons and padded clothing she had come to associate with the engineers’ guild. Razek had had several members of that secretive organisation amongst his coterie in Mourkain.
‘It’s an und — a watch-post, you’d call it,’ a familiar voice said. Neferata turned. Razek looked little different from the last time Neferata had seen him. A new scar decorated the side of his face, descending from his scalp line, down through his eye and disappearing into his beard. But he was the same bulky, tough-looking creature she remembered. He sat at a round stone table, his hands flat on its surface. His expression changed from curiosity to something more alert as he examined her. ‘I didn’t realise manlings lived so long, Neferata.’
‘My folk are long-lived. We are well-made, as your people might say,’ Neferata said.
‘Perhaps you are at that. It’s been some time since we shared a drink,’ Razek said, fluffing his beard. He glanced at one of his warriors. ‘Beer,’ he said. The warrior hurried off with an alacrity that Neferata envied. If only her own servants were that quick to obey.
‘I assumed you got tired of being shown up,’ Neferata said, turning to examine the central room of the outpost. It was barren of ornamentation, as befitting a dwarf outpost. The rough stone walls curved in a fashion that Neferata knew no human artisan could accomplish, and the whole of the outpost put her in mind of an overlarge animal den. There were other tunnels splitting off from the main chamber, leading to other hidden apertures, perhaps. Racks of weapons were mounted on the walls, including a few whose design and purpose escaped her completely. ‘I did out-drink you, after all.’ She looked at Razek.
Razek grunted. ‘Only because I took it easy on you,’ he said. ‘Why are you here? This is of no concern to Strigos.’
Dwarfs could be touchy about matters of honour. They weren’t a folk to accept aid gladly, or even at all. Neferata knew that she had to tread carefully in the next few minutes. ‘I come to offer aid to our allies,’ she said formally. ‘We humbly ask that you accept what small help we can give to the throng of Karaz Bryn.’
Razek scratched his chin. ‘And what form does that aid take? Surely it’s not just you two…’
Neferata made a face. ‘And if it was?’ she said, in mock anger. ‘Am I of no consequence, then? Is my ability in question?’ Dwarfs respected one who was quick to defend their honour. In this case, it was more for the benefit of the other dwarfs in the outpost than for Razek, who was cunning enough to recognise her ploy for what it was. It was that same cunning which had necessitated the ending of their association, so many years ago. She pressed on. ‘My forces wait in the reaches to the east, and our allies to the west and the south.’
‘Allies, is it?’ Razek said. He looked at the dwarf who had brought Neferata in. ‘Ratcatcher, feel free to chime in, eh?’
Ratcatcher grunted and gnawed on one of his plaits. ‘Aye, there are manlings massing in those regions right enough. But they’re tribesmen — barely a step above the orcs themselves. We figured they were just preparing to defend themselves against the orcs, same as we are.’ He looked at Neferata with newfound respect. ‘If she’s got them working together, they could punch the urk right in the belly.’
Razek looked back at her. ‘And how’d you do that, then?’ he demanded.
She shrugged. ‘I have my ways.’
‘You promised them weapons,’ Razek said grimly. Neferata blinked. Momentarily nonplussed, she studied Razek and said nothing. He glared at her. ‘Dwarf weapons, Neferata, sold in good faith to our allies.’ His emphasis on the last two words was tinged with bitterness. What did he know, she wondered? Obviously her people had not been as efficient at ferreting out Razek’s spies as she had assumed, but that was a problem for another time. Right now, she had to convince him to work with her.
‘And paid for with our gold,’ Neferata said softly. It was a calculated insult. Dwarfs lived by the law of debts, and to remind a dwarf of that was, Neferata had come to learn, the equivalent of questioning his competency. The bitter odour of dwarf anger filled her nostrils as Razek continued to glare. ‘We do not play foul with you, thane of the Silver Pinnacle. But it is not your remit to tell us whom we may do business with,’ she said.
Razek held her eyes. It was impossible to tell what was going on behind his stony gaze and Neferata didn’t even bother to try. Finally, Razek gave a snort. ‘You know they’ll take those weapons and stick them right up the Strigoi’s fundament, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but not any time soon,’ she said. ‘The orcs are here now.’ Razek grunted, though whether in agreement or otherwise, she couldn’t say.
‘We don’t need them,’ Ratcatcher said, looking at her contemptuously. ‘Our warriors would only be hampered by the presence of manlings.’
‘True enough,’ Neferata said, throwing off her cloak and taking a seat at the stone table. She gestured. ‘Then, this isn’t about “need” but about debts owed, isn’t that correct, Razek?’ She leaned forwards. ‘Have we not been good allies, Razek? We have helped you, and you have helped us, but is it not meet that allies shed blood as well as gold and beer?’
Razek raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you saying we owe you a debt?’ he said slowly. Then, ‘Or perhaps it’s the other way around?’
‘Neither,’ Neferata said. ‘Or maybe it is both.’ She made a fist. ‘We would show you how much we value the friendship of Karaz Bryn, Razek.’
‘We don’t need your blood, woman,’ Razek said dismissively. ‘Manlings die too easily for it to be worth much.’
‘Strigoi die harder than most,’ Neferata said. She stood and drew her sword with a flourish. The dwarfs reacted much as she expected, some drawing weapons, others racing to the wall where crossbows and other deadly tools waited. Razek, however, didn’t move so much as a muscle. ‘Part of that is due to the benefits of our alliance,’ she said, ignoring the startled dwarfs and laying the sword down on the table between them, its hilt towards Razek. ‘Good dwarf iron,’ she said. ‘It is wielded by the hands of men.’
Razek’s hand settled on the hilt and he lifted the blade as if it were a toy. He examined it with a critical eye and then set it back down. ‘And what is that to us?’
‘Progress,’ Neferata said. ‘The Silver Pinnacle is the wheel and we but the spokes. Together, we can move mountains.’