Dwarf guards were stationed outside their rocky outposts, enjoying the summer weather now that the tepid drizzle had stopped. As Sabira approached, one of them, a woman with a greataxe strapped to her back, stepped forward and asked for her papers. But before Sabira could reach into her pack and retrieve them, another of the guards hurried forward.
“I’ve got this one, Guddrun,” he said, tugging a sapphire bead and scratching his right ear quickly before the other guard could notice.
Guddrun looked from Sabira to the second guard for a moment, then shrugged, turned on her heel, and walked back to the guardhouse.
The new guard had signaled, “Just follow my lead.”
Surprised, Sabira took a closer look at the dwarf, wondering if she knew him. His hair and beard were jet black, and he had a thick scar bisecting his right cheek horizontally and puckering the skin. With such distinctive features, Sabira should be able to place him, but she couldn’t. Someone Mountainheart had told to look for her, then? She didn’t think Aggar’s nephew had that much sway in Frostmantle, especially since he’d chosen to make his home with Gunnett in Krona Peak, but perhaps the title of envoy carried more weight than she thought. Or perhaps the fact that Mountainheart was Aggar’s designated heir was not as great a secret as the Tordannons would like to think.
The guard held out his hand for her papers and Sabira passed them down. As the black-haired dwarf made a show of looking at them, he said in a low voice, “Best to keep your hood up inside, and keep off the main ways. Kiruk thinks it’s better if the whole city doesn’t know you’re back.”
Ah. That explained it. The Tordannon chief would, of course, have loyal followers within the guard who’d be willing to get someone inside the city incognito, based solely on a message sent via speaking stone or courier.
Louder, and more gruffly, he said, “Mute, eh? Well, let me see inside that hood! How am I supposed to verify your identity if I can’t see your face?”
Sabira bent over in the saddle so the dwarf could better see her face, wondering what his and Kiruk’s game was.
The dwarf winked at her, then contorted his face and drew back dramatically in disgust.
“Onatar’s stubble, woman! That’s even worse than your picture! You keep that hood up while you’re inside my city—I don’t want you frightening the citizens!”
Clever, Sabira thought as she took her papers back and replaced them in her pack. If the guards circulated a description of a deformed mute visiting the city, she’d be less likely to be accosted by the watches inside, and her true identity would stay hidden longer. Given how she’d been received in Krona Peak, that was definitely a good thing. The last thing she needed was a series of spontaneous parades in her honor. And if Nightshard’s accomplice didn’t realize she was here, it might just be easier to find him.
The guard stepped back and waved her through, but Sabira didn’t respond immediately. The last time she’d entered through this gate, Leoned had been at her side, laughing at some jest she’d made. The memory hit her with such force that, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
Now that she was actually here, she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to go inside. Leoned’s face swam before her vision, then Aggar’s, and Kiruk’s, his eyes forlorn and desperate. Then Anneka’s, Gunnett’s, and Mountainheart’s, in quick succession. The last face was Elix’s, flushed and earnest in his borrowed office in Stormreach, ordering her to come back home safely.
To come back to him.
And the only way to do that was to enter the city, find Nightshard’s accomplice, and clear Aggar’s name.
After the briefest of hesitations, Sabira drew in a deep, resolute breath, flicked the reins, and crossed over the threshold into Frostmantle.
Mountainheart was waiting for her at a secluded back table in the Tankard’s common room, near a fireplace that blazed cheerily with illusory fire. He was sipping on an oversized snifter of Onatar’s Blood and making eyes at one of the serving women, whose ample bosom was displayed to good effect by her low-cut bodice.
“So what did Gunnett think of you running off to do your uncle’s bidding yet again?” Sabira asked as she slid into a chair across from him, one that gave her a full view of the room’s occupants and the door.
Mountainheart glared at her for a moment.
“I love my wife and would do anything to please her,” he said at last, as if by rote.
“That’s obvious,” Sabira remarked, looking askance at the barmaid, who slunk away without getting her order. “But I think maybe you want to please your uncle more—or maybe you just owe him more, for making you his heir. How did that happen, anyway? It’s not as if he’s too old to have children of his own.”
“If he wanted you to know, he would have told you,” the dwarf responded sourly.
“Well, he and I didn’t exactly have time for that, did we? You and I do, and we’re not leaving this table until you tell me what exactly it is you’re holding over Aggar’s head that would make him take such a drastic step.”
She hadn’t actually been sure that was the case, but Mountainheart’s surprised look told her she was on the right track. He covered it quickly with a drink from his snifter, but Sabira had seen enough.
“Maybe he just sees potential in me,” the dwarf replied flippantly, and Sabira almost laughed.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt he sees potential in you for something, but not for ruling Frostmantle in the event of his death. And marrying Gunnett, that was a stroke of genius, because there’s no way Kiruk would risk Frostmantle going to the Toldoraths. She virtually guarantees no one will be hiding beneath your bed to slit your throat after Aggar dies.”
Sabira leaned forward, pinning the dwarf to his seat with the ferocity of her stare. “Which he will, unless I can find what I need here to clear his name. And that gives you more than enough motive to have orchestrated these events, either yourself or in league with the true killer. So unless you want me to arrest you on suspicion of murder, you’d better start talking. Now.”
“Please,” Mountainheart scoffed. “If I’d wanted him found guilty, why would I have bothered procuring your services to help free him?”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I should have said it gives your wife more than enough motive. As I recall, there’s a House Sivis station with a speaking stone down one level on Dragonbane Way,” she said, pushing her chair back. “I’ll just send word over to Kiruk and have her arrested. Then maybe you’ll be more inclined to talk.”
She stood, and Mountainheart’s hand shot out to grab her arm in an iron grip.
“You wouldn’t.”
Sabira looked at him pityingly.
“I would think you’d know me better than that by now. Not only will I do it, I’ll enjoy doing it.”
“Fine,” Mountainheart growled, releasing her arm and motioning for her to sit. “I’ll tell you what I know.”
Sabira sat, rubbing her arm under the table. Mountainheart’s ire would be visible to everyone come tomorrow; he’d gripped her hard enough to bruise.
“It’s not nearly as dramatic as you make it out to be,” he continued, toying with his glass as he spoke. “Aggar sired a bastard in Krona Peak. The woman—a server at one of Aggar’s favorite haunts—came to me when she learned she was with child, knowing I was his nephew. I suppose she hoped to gain either money or status, but I hid her away until the birth. I was not going to allow her to extort my uncle if the child wasn’t even his. When she was in labor, I summoned my uncle and he saw her give birth to the child. A red-haired little boy who was born with no eyes. Naturally, he was devastated. The mother experienced some complications during childbirth, and we were unable to save her. The child died soon after, and Aggar swore he’d never risk siring another again. He’s been celibate ever since.”