They passed one more tavern, marked by a sign picturing a large mug with a jagged crack running down the side, and turned down a narrower, quiet street, with Kondike taking off at a run. The three gully dwarves had just turned the corner when the dog came to a halt in front of the doorway to a dwarf house. The dog barked once, loudly, then repeated the sound with growing urgency.
The door flew open a few seconds later, just as Gus was drawing close. His heart flipped happily in his chest as he saw Gretchan rush out, kneeling down to embrace her dog as Kondike yelped and licked and generally wiggled in ecstasy.
Still panting, Gus slowed to a walk, stumbling slightly in his weariness. Still, he pictured himself as the pinnacle of dwarfish style as he sauntered up to her and offered a big, cheery smile.
“Hi … Gretchan,” he said between gasps for breath. “Sure is nice … to see you!”
“Gus?” she gasped, staring at him in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I don’t know,” he replied honestly enough. “First, tell where ‘here’ is.”
“You don’t know?” she asked then laughed ruefully. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You certainly do have a way of getting around. Somehow you’ve gotten yourself to Kayolin; I can’t even begin to imagine how.”
He was about to ask what Kayolin was when they were interrupted by a breathless dwarf running down the street. Gretchan stood up quickly, her face creased by an expression of concern.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The League of Enforcers,” explained the puffing dwarf. “They’ve got Brandon and Garren in chains-they’re taking them both up to the palace!”
TWENTY-FIVE
Brandon and Garren, hands shackled and the Bluestone Axe snatched away, were being marched side by side up the stairs from the Enforcers’ headquarters to the highest level of Garnet Thax, the palace of Regar Smashfingers. Baracan Heelspur led the detachment of Enforcers, more than two dozen, who escorted the prisoners up to the palace.
“Never trust a woman,” Baracan said with a chuckle, walking along behind Brandon. “Rona Darkwater thought she was good enough for me! Imagine-as if I’d accept one of your castoffs. But she served as the perfect pawn, didn’t she?”
“What have you done with her?” Brandon growled, appalled at the way the noble dwarf maid had been used.
“Oh, she’ll be fine once the bruises heal,” Lord Heelspur’s son assured him breezily. “I didn’t even break any of her bones when I beat her.”
Brandon thrashed, trying to turn, but he was cuffed harshly on the ear by one of the guards. Glowering at the floor, he kept moving, his mind churning with schemes of the vengeful violence he’d like to inflict upon Baracan Heelspur. He didn’t know how or when, but he’d make the smug bully, the murderer who had killed his brother, pay for his villainy.
They marched right in to the great throne room with the two shackled prisoners prodded forward by the sword points of several grinning Enforcers. As usual, the galleries above and to either side of the throne were lined with spectators. The whole room was wrapped in a strange pall of silence, though, and Brandon couldn’t help but take encouragement from that. He was also encouraged to spot several scarlet jackets in the crowd; he could only hope the members of the Garnet Guard would be ready to help.
Even more heartening, he heard a series of whispers-“Bluestone, Bluestone!”-coming from the gallery until Lord Heelspur, who stood behind the throne, gestured irritably. Numerous black-garbed Enforcers began to move through the crowd, and the rebellious muttering died away. The procession advanced at a steady march and came to a halt before the throne. Baracan Heelspur saluted stiffly.
“I recognize these dwarves,” Regar Smashfingers proclaimed, lounging casually back in his throne. “But why do you bring them to me in chains?” he asked innocently.
“Sire, they are rebels, plotting the overthrow of your reign!” Baracan Heelspur proclaimed, his voice loud enough to ring through the gallery. “The father has already been charged, and at your command was secured by the League of Enforcers in a cell. The son entered the League headquarters through subterfuge-a magical disguise-and attempted to free the father by smashing down the door to his cell.”
The one word, magic, seemed to echo by itself through the cavernous throne room, provoking a volley of mutters and prayers among the superstitious dwarves. The king’s eyes widened in a mocking display of surprise.
“Can this be true?” he asked of Brandon. Before the prisoner could answer, he addressed his captain of Enforcers. “What was the nature of this magic?”
“I know not, sire, except that it cloaked his appearance in deception. He was made to look like a captain of Enforcers. Even his axe”-Baracan produced and brandished the Bluestone Axe, the legendary artifact known to all Kayolin dwarves-“was concealed to resemble the halberds of the League’s guards.”
“These are serious charges!” the king declared. “And to think, barely six days ago I welcomed this criminal into my court, acknowledged him as a hero! The Horax Hero indeed! This is a sad day in the noble history of Kayolin!”
Regar Smashfingers actually managed to sound distressed as he recounted the distressing facts, though Brandon could plainly see the delight flashing in the old scoundrel’s eyes. That delight quickly focused on the two prisoners, changing into a glower of cruel cunning. The king spoke again, and though his tone conveyed regret, his expression belied the sadness of his voice.
“I had hoped my coronation would signal a new dawn in Kayolin’s days, an era of peace and prosperity of benefit to us all. And still, it is my hope that this will be the case. It had been my intention, in fact, to promote the legendary Bluestones back into Kayolin’s nobility, to the rank they held so long, so very long, ago.
“But I shall not have the Bluestones in my court when I finally don my crown. There will be no place for rebels amid my loyal nobles.”
Smashfingers stood suddenly and, with a flourish of his right hand, gestured to Lord Heelspur. “Bring me my crown, that I may wear it now, as I pronounce sentence upon these criminals!”
Immediately the loyal follower advanced, bearing a velvet pillow upon which rested an object covered by a silken cloth. A courtier whipped the cloth away to reveal a stunning crown, a circlet of silver bejeweled with startlingly blue stones, each blinking and sparkling in the reflected light of a hundred torches.
Regar Smashfingers stepped down from his throne, descending the three steps to the chamber floor. He came to stand beside Alakar Heelspur, where all could see.
“Behold the new crown of Kayolin!” he declared. “Molded from the Torc of the Forge itself, the blessed talisman of Reorx. These blue stones are proof of his blessing, proof of his favor, proof of the rightness of my rule-”
“They are proof of nothing!”
An audible gasp rushed through the vast chamber as the words, spoken in Gretchan’s voice, resounded through the assemblage.
“Who speaks?” demanded Lord Heelspur. “Who dares to challenge the true king?”
“I speak,” Gretchan declared, stepping to the edge of the gallery. She was wearing a white bearskin cloak, and her staff was held firmly in her hands. She banged the wooden post against the floor, and it struck a blow that reverberated through the huge room, seeming to vibrate the stones under every dwarf’s feet.
“And just who are you?” demanded the king, genuinely puzzled. At the same time, Baracan Heelspur gestured to his Enforcers, many of whom began to filter through the crowd, closing in on Gretchan.
Brandon, watching her, desperately hoped she had more of a plan than simply to challenge the king.