"What sort of presents do they like best?"
"Ah, very cunning," exclaimed Boлndal. "Sorry, scholar, but you can't bribe your way into a lady's heart. There's no secret formula. Either she likes you, and she'll tell you as much; or she doesn't."
"And she'll tell you about that too," Boпndil added merrily.
"I wouldn't wish that on anyone," said his brother, "but if she likes you, well… anything is possible. But enough about womenfolk."
Their journey continued, and after several orbits Tungdil began to recognize his surroundings, which meant they were getting closer to Lot-Ionan's vaults.
He was looking forward to seeing the famuli and being reunited with Frala and her daughters. They'll never believe that I'm an heir to the throne! To prove that he hadn't forgotten her, he knotted Frala's scarf around his belt.
After a while they came to a river. A ferry was moored on the opposite bank near the ferry master's house and smoke was rising from the chimney.
Tungdil reached up to ring the bell that was suspended from a tree beside the berth. That way the ferry master would know to come and fetch them.
Boпndil grabbed his hand. "What are you doing?"
"I'm calling the ferry, unless you'd prefer to swim," said Tungdil. "It's either that or get the boat."
Boпndil eyed the swirling water. The river was lapping against the banks. "We'll go a different way," he decided. "It's too deep here. We could fall in and drown."
"You could fall off your pony and break your neck," Tungdil countered sharply. "Come on, Boпndil, it's too far to the next crossing-two orbits, at least." When he saw the twins' stony faces, he knew it was useless to protest. "It's this way," he sighed, pointing upriver. "But I don't see what's wrong with the boat."
It was all the encouragement that Boлndal needed to launch into the story of why dwarves and water didn't get along.
"Long ago, Elria put a curse on us. Elria was born of water and water was her element. From the beginning, she took a dislike to the dwarves-Vraccas's fire-loving, furnace-tending children couldn't have been more different from her water-dwelling creatures. To protect her children, she put a curse on the dwarves, and now any dwarf who ventures into water outside his kingdom is doomed to drown."
Lakes, rivers, ponds, or streams-according to the twins, even puddles could pose a mortal danger, and they avoided water at all costs.
"It's an excellent excuse for not washing," Tungdil told them.
They rode until nightfall and arrived the following orbit at the ford. When the time came to cross, the brothers waded nervously through the fast-flowing water, the river swirling ferociously about their thighs as if it intended to carry them off.
It was evening when they finally neared the entrance to the tunnel leading into Lot-Ionan's vaults. Boлndal and Boпndil grew uneasy at the thought of wizardry and spells.
"I didn't like coming here the first time," grumbled Boпndil. "Lot-Ionan is a nice enough fellow, I'll grant you, but he's a magus. At least we dwarves have the good sense to know that hocus-pocus never did anyone any good. We stay away from it. If Vraccas had wanted us to dabble in magic, he would have given us wands." He stared at Tungdil suspiciously. "You understand that, don't you? I hope he hasn't given you any daft ideas…"
"I can't weave magic," Tungdil said soothingly. "I've never even tried." He stopped for a second and looked at the brothers imploringly. "Promise me you'll treat him respectfully. Without his charitable intervention, there wouldn't be another claimant to the throne. In fact, it's only because of his salutary-"
"Listen to him!" Boлndal said sarcastically, mimicking his voice. "Do you hear the scholar speaking? Quite the gentleman, isn't he? He must be refining himself for highfaluffing conversations with a more h-h-educated race."
"Highfalutin," Tungdil corrected him with a smile. "All right, point taken. Either way, be nice to him or say nothing at all. You can wait at the gates if you'd rather. I'll be fine on my own."
It was already dark by the time they got there. Even from a distance Tungdil could see that the door to the tunnel was ajar. It was usually bolted and protected with a magic incantation, but one of the famuli must have forgotten to do his job.
Tungdil grinned mischievously, his tanned face creasing around his eyes. Whoever was guilty of such negligence would soon regret it. He intended to give the vault's inhabitants the shock of their lives.
"Tut-tut," Boпndil said disapprovingly when they reached the open door. "The confounded thing better not close behind us. What if it's a trap to catch innocent travelers?"
"Why would the magus want to trap travelers?" his brother inquired.
"To try out new gobbledygook on them, of course! You don't think he'd experiment on his own apprentices, do you? He needs to be sure that his wizardry works." He looked to Lot-Ionan's protйgй for confirmation, but Tungdil chose not to get involved. Boпndil unhooked an ax from his belt and mumbled threateningly into his beard. "If any of those wand-wielders so much as looks at me oddly, I'll show them what for."
Boлndal burst out laughing. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to punish them if they turn you into a mouse or a bar of soap." He gave the butt of his crow's beak an affectionate pat, but his brother was frowning grimly.
Tungdil noted their squared shoulders; it was clear from their posture that they were ready to fight. He decided to head off any possible misunderstandings by leading the way.
"Keep the noise down," he told them. "I want to take them by surprise."
Boпndil looked skeptical. "Seems to me that's just asking for trouble. What if they put a spell on us by accident? They might not recognize you in time."
Tungdil waved dismissively and stepped into the vaults. At once he was surrounded by the familiar aroma of paper, papyrus, parchment, and a hundred dusty books, mixed in with the smell of stone and a hearty whiff of supper. "Boiled potatoes and meat," he declared.
He looked over his shoulder at the twins, who were more interested in studying the tunnel and speculating in low tones about who had built the vaults and why.
"You can tell it's the work of long-uns," Boпndil was saying. "Do you see this? I noticed it last time as well. To think they didn't bother to work with the rock! They've cut through the strata with no concern for the veins." He pointed at something. "If they'd troubled themselves to look properly, they wouldn't have got themselves into such a mess. Even I could do better, and I'm a warrior!"
"A precarious design." Boлndal was gazing at the ceiling that was propped up every few paces by pillars and struts. "There's too much sand in the soil. An engineer or a miner would never have taken such a risk." He prodded the ceiling gently with his crow's beak, loosing a shower of mud and stone. "I'm no expert, but they should have dug the whole thing out. See how the warmth has dried the sand strata and made them all crumbly? Your magus needs a lesson or two in how to dig tunnels. It's a good thing we're here."
"Shush," Tungdil reminded them firmly. "You'll spoil the surprise."
"No sentries, no alarm system, nothing!" Boпndil rolled his eyes. "No wonder Vraccas told us to take care of the long-uns! The whole place would be easier to conquer than a dead dragon's den. Dwarves are more careful," he continued in a whisper still loud enough for Tungdil to hear.
Tungdil tiptoed on. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light, but the vaults were too quiet for his liking. There was no chattering of voices or banging of doors. If it hadn't been for the tantalizing smell of supper, he would have suspected the magus of moving his school elsewhere.
"Maybe they've abandoned the vaults and left the cook behind," mused Boпndil out loud. "Hardly surprising, given the state of the place."
The comment earned him a reproving look from Boлndal. "Surely they'd take the cook with them?" he couldn't help asking.
"Not necessarily." Boпndil grinned. "He might be so bad at his job that they've made him stay and practice until the ceiling caves in. Either that, or he's stewing in his soup."