"And we must watch powerlessly while the northern blight advances," Gundrabur murmured somberly, closing his eyes. "Then it is settled: I shall appeal to the maga for help."
Tungdil said nothing, although he doubted the efficacy of the scheme. No amount of dwarven reasoning could influence the workings of the maga's mind. The thought of Andфkai reminded him that Djerun had been permitted to enter the stronghold without raising his visor. At the time it hadn't occurred to him, and it clearly hadn't registered with the sentries or the twins, who had blithely waved the armored warrior through their gates. She must have put a spell on us. He decided not to say anything, least of all to Boпndil, whose hot temper would explode in incandescent fury. The last thing they needed was for Djerun to be challenged to a duel.
He took the opportunity to broach the subject of the succession. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful," he said, determined to nip the matter in the bud. "You've done me a great service in reuniting me with my folk, but I can't be made king. I was raised by long-uns and learned the dwarven ways from books-extremely inaccurate books, I might tell you. My rival is a much more suitable candidate, so I intend to renounce my claim and vote in favor of him. We need a high king whom everyone will respect."
"Your speech and sentiments do you credit," Gundrabur praised him, "but the fact is, we made up the story about your birth. Lot-Ionan played along because we swore him to secrecy. I'm afraid you have no claim to the throne; there's no proof that you're even a fourthling."
Tungdil's mind was reeling. "But why…I mean, I don't see why you made me come all this way just to tell me it isn't true…"
"Think of all the good that has come of it already," Balendilнn said soothingly. "It's put us in a better position to do something about Nфd'onn. And if we hadn't sent the twins to look for you, the orcs would have killed you in Greenglade."
"True, but…" He fumbled for the right words. "What of the delegates? All this time, the assembly has been waiting for me, and I'm not even a genuine heir!"
He felt as if the ground had been tunneled from under his feet. After the ordeals of his journey he had just been getting comfortable, and now he had nowhere to call home.
"Please don't be angry with us," Gundrabur entreated him. "If Gandogar is crowned, our race will be locked in combat with the elves, and we can't let that happen. Our idea was to postpone Gandogar's appointment until the assembly had been persuaded of the folly of waging war. When your magus wrote to us with news of a foundling dwarf, we took the liberty of inventing a story about your lineage to buy some extra time."
"We were hoping to find a solution-an ancient law or suchlike that would force the assembly to vote against a war," Balendilнn explained. "Fighting the elves would be ruinous for both our races, but Gandogar just won't see it. I expect you think we're as dishonest as kobolds, but our intentions are honorable: We want the best for our race."
Tungdil kept his mouth shut for fear of saying something he might regret. He helped himself to more beer and emptied the tankard in a single draft. "And did you find anything?"
"Not exactly," the high king confessed. "That's why we're asking you to join our conspiracy and challenge Gandogar for the throne."
"What good would it do?" Tungdil shrugged. "They'd never elect me."
"No," agreed Gundrabur, "but if I'm not happy with the assembly's choice of heir, I can veto the succession."
"And what then? Would you rather our folks fought each other than waged war on the elves?"
"It won't come to that," Balendilнn reassured him. "Our laws state that the heir must challenge his rival to a duel. Of course, the rival candidate would have to be backed by some of the chieftains and elders, but roughly a third of the delegates have been won over to our cause. That should suffice."
"And then Gandogar will have the privilege of slicing me in two." Tungdil scowled. "I still don't see how it changes anything."
The high king and his counselor exchanged glances.
"Swear that you won't breathe a word of this to anyone," Balendilнn demanded, eyeing Tungdil solemnly until he complied. "We need to banish Bislipur and Sverd from Gandogar's circle. Bislipur is obsessed with the idea of wiping out the elves and his zeal has rubbed off on Gandogar. Thanks to Bislipur's constant whispering, the fourthling king rarely has time to think for himself." He frowned. "The villain tried to kill me. I can't prove it yet, but I will."
"But assuming you succeed," Tungdil said doubtfully, "won't Gandogar still go ahead with his plan?"
"We'll open his eyes to the perfidy of his mentor and the folly of an elven war. Gandogar is a good dwarf at heart; his adviser is to blame." Balendilнn paused and looked at Tungdil intently. "But I need more time; and for that we're depending on your help."
"You'll be doing your kinsmen a great service," Gundrabur assured him. "They'll realize it eventually. History will record how a foundling dwarf named Tungdil was hewn by Vraccas to save his children from destruction."
"I'll do it," agreed Tungdil, "but I'll need your full support."
"We'll do everything we can for you," promised Balendilнn. "You're an honorable dwarf, Tungdil. Forgive us for burdening you with our troubles before you've even had a chance to rest. Now that we've settled the important business, you should get some proper sleep. You'll have one orbit in which to recover and prepare yourself for the hustings." The one-armed counselor smiled at him encouragingly.
"Buy us some time, and we'll forge a better future without the likes of Bislipur," the high king exhorted him. He picked up the ceremonial hammer and held it out to the dwarf. "Swear on the hammer that brought us into being that you won't tell a soul."
Tungdil gave his word and left the great hall. Outside, Andфkai and Djerun were still waiting in the corridor.
"They said we could stay for a while," she said evenly. "As it happens, I could do with a break. These past few orbits together have been horribly stressful."
"My sentiments exactly," said Tungdil, leaving the maga to decide whether it was the journey or her company that he found such a trial.
An attendant arrived to take them to their rooms. As they followed, Tungdil marveled at the splendor of their surroundings. The masons had worked the walls with incredible finesse and the smooth surfaces were decorated with sculpted reliefs and chiseled inscriptions. Dwarven runes inlaid with precious metals shimmered in a kaleidoscope of silver, gold, and red.
But what really caught his attention was the staircase. He had always thought of steps as being rectangular, smooth, and plain.
These were a revelation. Each slab of stone was different from the next, the flat treads decorated with elaborate patterns and the uprights engraved with runes.
It was only when he read the runes in sequence that he realized the purpose of the design: The staircases spelled out stories that served to distract the weary secondlings from the grueling ascent. Tungdil could tell from Andфkai's expression that she too had noticed the runes and was reading with interest.
The stories told of glorious days of old, evoking heroic adventures, each more impressive than the last. Tungdil climbed eagerly, relishing every step until at length they reached their chambers.
Andфkai disappeared inside her room before he could inquire about the books. He was sure that her change of heart was connected to something she had seen or read.
Maybe Gundrabur will be lucky, he thought hopefully as he shuffled to bed.
That's the beauty of being among friends," said a deep voice. "You don't even have to lock the door."
Tungdil woke with a start and sat up drowsily, only to discover Bislipur in his room.
"Good morning, Tungdil." Somehow the greeting sounded suspiciously insincere. "We'll talk properly at the hustings, but I'm sure you're as impatient as I am to have a little chat."