Willem watched the old man drink his tea. He rubbed his sweating palms together and tried to keep his teeth from chattering. The window rattled again, startling Willem.
“I’m at a loss for words, Senator,” Willem said.
“You asked to see me,” said the old man. “You work for the master builder, and your name is Korvan, isn’t it? Not Wheloon. We’ve met before, son, and I’m old but not that old. Does Inthelph treat you well?”
Willem wanted to look away from the old man, but couldn’t. He could see the suspicion mounting in the senator’s gaze, but it was more curiosity than fear.
“He treats me like a son,” Willem said, and he was sincere. “I couldn’t ask for a better patron or mentor, and please accept my apologies for this Wheloon business. I just thought that perhaps some discretion….”
“I have secrets on everyone in this city, Korvan. I’m alive today because I keep them. What’s on your mind?”
Willem forced a smile, but inwardly grimaced at the sight of the old senator downing the rest of his tea in one half-choking swig.
“Your wisdom is valued by many in Innarlith,” Willem said. “I thought you might be able to answer questions for me that the master builder can’t.”
“Like, how can you move up if the master builder is always in your way?” Khonsu suggested with a wicked smile.
“Senator, I …” Willem hedged.
“Oh, come now, Korvan,” Khonsu said. “I’ve been around a long time, but I was young once. You’ve gone as far with Inthelph as you can. That whole wall business…. Word is you saved his incompetent arse on that one-and that keep of Osorkon’s as well. Old men take credit for the works of the young, Mister Korvan. The trick is to hang on until they drop dead. Present company excluded”-and he indicated himself with a wry smile-“they all drop dead eventually.”
The old man laughed, and Willem tried to laugh with him but couldn’t. Khonsu didn’t notice. All of a sudden, the old senator seemed to be having some trouble seeing. He blinked, looked around, then rubbed his eyes.
The window rattled again, loudly, startling them both.
“What was that?” Khonsu asked, still blinking.
“The wind,” Willem said.
“My …” said Khonsu. “All at once I can’t seem to …”
“I’m told it will resemble heartstop,” Willem said, his brain and his mouth moving all on their own, without his seeming to have any say in the matter. “In a man your age, that won’t surprise anyone, I should think. Old men drop dead after all, Senator, leaving room for the young.”
Khonsu coughed, and his eyesight returned enough that he could look Willem in the eye. He seemed somehow relieved.
“It’s not Inthelph who’s standing in the way, old man,” Willem went on. “It’s you. You’re standing in his way. All this talk. He’s heard it. He has more friends than you do now. This talk of incompetence …” Willem found it difficult to talk about that. It appeared that Khonsu was having even more trouble breathing, so Willem could pause in silence before going on. “Inthelph would regret this if he knew I’d come here to kill you and not just to trap you into admitting to me what the master builder already knows. You’ve done that, anyway, as well. I can’t have you turning on him, you fickle old …” Willem stopped himself from being too disrespectful. The murder was bad enough. “The poison in your tea was entirely my idea. The master builder thanks you for your support over the years.”
Willem stood and looked down at Khonsu, who, try as he might, could not breathe at all.
“Sorry, old man,” he whispered, looking Khonsu in the eye.
Willem walked out, also having a difficult time breathing.
He left Khonsu to die and went to the nearest public house where he didn’t stop drinking until it felt like he could sleep. By the time he fell into bed, the sun had come up.
40
24 Hammer, the Year of the Wyvern (1363 DR)
ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE OF STEAM
Hrothgar hated being so close to the water, and it wasn’t just because of the smell. Growing up in the Great Rift, among the forges and smelters, he’d lived with sulfur and worse fumes all his life. The Lake of Steam smelled bad to be sure, but it was the water itself he didn’t like.
He’d heard the jokes and petty insults over and over again in the time he’d spent living among humans. They had strange ideas about dwarves, not the least of which was that he and his kind should for some reason resent being shorter than humans, dislike having beards, hate working hard, and so on. Humans always thought everyone wanted to be like them. It was the most irritating of all their many and varied irritating qualities.
Also he’d heard the jokes about dwarves not being able to swim, of them sinking like stones and drowning in even the shallowest water. What offended Hrothgar most about that was that it was true, at least in Hrothgar’s case.
“Come, Ivar,” he growled at his human companion. “Let’s get to a decent pub.”
Devorast continued to walk at a slow, steady, distracted pace on the smoothly rounded stones at the shore of the great lake. The night air was cold and the wind whipped at Hrothgar’s beard and made his eyes water. Devorast didn’t seem to notice it at all. The thick layer of clouds hid the stars and the moon, and that at least made Hrothgar feel a bit better. It almost felt as if they were underground.
“Come on, lad,” the dwarf said. “Why are we here? Why do you insist on these walks?”
Devorast shook his head and it looked to Hrothgar as if he was searching for words. There was something about that reaction that unsettled the dwarf; it was so unlike Ivar Devorast.
“You’re bored,” Hrothgar guessed. “You finished that ship for the Shou lass and you’ve nothing to do. You’ve nothing to occupy your mind.”
Devorast smiled at that, and the dwarf started to see some hope.
“Get one of those gangly, beardless girls of yours,” Hrothgar suggested. “That’ll give you plenty to-”
“You’re right,” Devorast interrupted, much to the dwarf’s surprise. “I don’t have anything to do, but my mind is occupied.”
“Is it?” the dwarf asked. “Another ship, then? Is there someone needs a ship built?”
“No,” Devorast replied. “I’ve finished with ships.”
The dwarf couldn’t help but laugh-a good, loud, healthy guffaw.
“I mean it, Hrothgar.”
“Do you, now?” asked the dwarf. “No more ships then. Perhaps another try at a keep?”
The dwarf laughed some more, but Devorast said, “There was something Ran Ai Yu said just before she set sail.”
“While I was waiting to drown in that damnable little boat?” Hrothgar said.
“Do you know what a canal is?”
“Do you know that I’m not the village idiot?” Hrothgar growled.
Devorast smiled.
“So what?” the dwarf went on. “Now you want to build a canal?”
Before Devorast could reply the both of them were engulfed in water. The force of the wave hit Hrothgar so hard the air was forced from his lungs. It felt as if he’d fallen from a great height-a dozen feet or more-onto solid rock. He wanted to pull a breath into his already burning chest but knew if he did, he’d get nothing but water.
Someone-it must have been Devorast-kicked him in the side. Gravel bit into his face and he was dragged along. The moment he realized he was upside down, he’d already spun back around. He kicked and kicked, but his boots found no solid ground. The water leeched all the heat from his muscles and his limbs stiffened and cramped. He couldn’t force himself to open his eyes so everything was utter blackness.
The muscles in Hrothgar’s broad chest pulsed, so great was his physical need to draw a breath. The cold water finally found its way up his nose. His whole head burned and the dwarf was afraid his eyes were going to launch from his skull. His ears popped. Someone grabbed his ankle.