Bad Times in Dragon City (7 page)

“They’re bulletproof too,” Johan said. “We’re as safe inside here as anywhere in Dragon City.” 

“But we can’t look outside?” 

Johan shrugged. “The Brichts like their secrets.” 

I pointed toward the front of the palanquin. “Is Ingo a Bricht?” 

“Someone has to operate this thing. He’s a well-trusted member of the clan, but his last name’s Dunkel.” 

I nodded, pretending to understand. The dwarves had their own way of doing things. Some called it underhanded — even criminal — but I had to admit it was usually effective. As long as you were on their side. If you happened to wind up facing off against them, I didn’t suspect it would seem fair. 

“So what’s this all about?” The palanquin took that moment to dip forward. The light that had been filtering through the veils vanished as if night had come crashing down over us. We had to have entered the mountain. 

If I’d wanted to turn back, it was too late now. 

Small glowglobes that I hadn’t paid much attention to before now kept the interior of the palanquin lit with a gentle luminance. Johan fidgeted on his cushion. “They haven’t really told me. I just know they want to see you. Bad.” 

I wondered if I’d made the right decision to come with him. I felt sure I hadn’t done anything to piss off the Brichts. 

Lately. 

That I knew of. 

I eyed the veils, trying to see if they really were immovable. My wand might have something to say about that in a pinch. 

Johan put up a hand to reassure me. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong, Max. They seemed eager to meet you. In a friendly way.” He tried to smile, but he was too nervous to pull it off well, and his face looked like he was wearing a rictus grin instead. 

“You’re not helping.” 

“No, really. It’s just that once you wound up with the dragonet attached to you like that, they suddenly got interested in you. They knew that you’d helped me out of that spot, so they leaned on me to reach out to you. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. Honest.” 

I believed him. I just didn’t know if I believed whatever it was his bosses had told him. Deep as we already had to be into the mountain, though, I didn’t see how I had a better option than sticking it through to find out. The palanquin moved far faster than I would have ever dared fly inside of something. Even if I’d have been able to open the veils and get out, I didn’t like the idea of trying to leap off the thing at such speeds. 

Moments later, the palanquin dipped down at an even sharper angle, then righted itself and slowed. Bright lights shone through the veils once more, but they came at the wrong angles to be natural. We dropped toward the ground as if we were caught in an elevation field, and we came to a stop with a gentle bump. Ingo seemed to know his trade well. 

The veils around the palanquin unstiffened. Ingo pulled aside the one that separated his seat from ours. “We’re here, sirs. And they’re waiting for you.” 

Johan opened the door to the palanquin and stepped out, then held it open for me. I crawled out after him and found myself standing in a vast underground chamber. Glowglobes ringed the walls of the place maybe twenty feet up. It felt like the roof had to be much taller than that, but the lights made it hard to see past them to the ceiling, wherever it might be. 

The palanquin had set down in the center of a sunken landing pad off to one side of the chamber. Low wide stone steps rose up in every direction from where we stood. Statues and carvings covered three of the walls — the ones nearest us — with imagery I knew told the story of the founding of Dragon City. I’d heard it recited many times over the years, but the sculptors who’d rendered these visions out of solid rock had likely borne witness to the events themselves. 

That was always one of the jarring things about life as a human in Dragon City. Compared to some of the people who lived there, I had the relative lifespan of a fruit fly. The things I thought of as history or legends, they’d actually been through. 

Belle was young for an elf, for instance, full grown but not ancient. Her parents, on the other hand, had been here before the city had been founded. They may have withdrawn into the heart of their estate these days, but from what she’d told me, they’d played a large role in the creation of our hometown. 

Being human means that even if you make it to a ripe, old age, the elves and dwarves and gnomes will still think of you as a child. That struck home even harder when I looked past the massive meeting table that stretched across the center of the room and I glimpsed the gigantic door set into the far wall. 

The top of the door towered out of sight, hidden by the darkness beyond the reach of the glowglobes’ lights. Side to side, it had to reach at least twenty feet, and it seemed to be made out of solid stone. How anyone could get such a slab to move, I couldn’t comprehend. It had to involve magic. 

The arch that was the symbol of the Stronghold had been carved into the door’s surface. A massive hammer and pickaxe stood crossed underneath that, the arch framing them both. They’d been inlaid with gold and platinum and rubies and diamonds, and they sparkled in the dim light, seeming to produce illumination from inside. The artisans who’d worked the gems into the design had also enchanted them so that they moved on their own, the rubies mixing with the diamonds to produce flame patterns that reminded me of nothing more than the Dragon himself. 

C
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T
EN

“They’re waiting for us, Max.” Johan jostled my arm and pointed over to the table stretching before us. 

A handful of dwarves stood there staring at us with dour faces. It was hard to tell if they were angry with me or not. Long, braided beards tend to disguise mirth well. That’s one reason why most people think dwarf men are grumpy. They have to smile twice as wide to make an impression through all that bushy hair. 

The table at which the dwarves stood was shaped like a gigantic horseshoe or — as I realized as Johan and I walked closer — the Stronghold arch. Johan guided me right between the two legs of the arch to stand in the center of it. I didn’t like the idea of letting these people surround us, but I figured if they’d brought me there to hurt me they’d have already done it. I was in their hands now, for good or ill. 

The dwarf in the absolute middle of the arch — at its highest peak — stood and stared at me. One of his eyes had gone milky, but the other burned with such intensity that I worried that he might shoot a beam out of it to lance me through where I stood. His hair had gone to gray but not yet white, and the braids in his beard were so long that he had stuffed them into his belt for safekeeping. 

It wasn’t until I reached the spot directly across the curved table from that dwarf that I realized the floor inside of the arch was lower than that outside of it. Despite the fact the people standing outside the arch were dwarves, they all looked down on me as if they were giants. 

As Johan came to a halt in front of the old dwarf, he clicked his heels together and gave a deep bow in the manner meant to display extreme deference among his people. I didn’t really feel that way about a dwarf I’d never met before, no matter who he might be, but I went along with it anyhow. Better to be polite when surrounded. 

I recognized him, of course, although I’d never seen him before in the flesh. He had to be Benno Bricht, the leader of the Stronghold. As he glared down at me with sharp, deep-set eyes as black as the darkest mines under the mountain, I could see why. He radiated the strength and confidence of bedrock. 

“Welcome to the Core, Son of Gib.” Benno’s voice rasped like steel on flint. “We are pleased you could find the time to accept our invitation to join us.” 

I glanced at Johan, who kept his eyes trained on the floor. Benno wasn’t talking to him, and he seemed uncomfortable standing at the focal point of the arch-shaped table with me. I didn’t blame him. Any one of the dwarves sitting there could have made his life miserable and short. 

Me, though, I didn’t much care. 

“The pleasure’s mine.” I clapped Johan on the back, and he looked up then, startled. “I wouldn’t have come, but my friend Johan here said it was urgent.” 

Benno squinted at me. “An invitation from Stronghold’s Core isn’t enough to bring you to us? Are you always so casual about such important matters?” 

I shrugged. “What’s important to you may not be so vital to me. I have matters of my own that I need to attend to today.” 

Benno’s beard widened at the sides, which I took to mean he was smiling under all those ancient whiskers. “Fair enough then. We’ll be brief so as not to waste too much more of your time. We wanted to meet with you and offer you an alliance.” 

That put me back a little bit. “I’m flattered that you’d make such an offer, but I don’t understand. I mean, I can see what the Stronghold has to offer, but what does the Stronghold want from me?” 

I had tried to live a quiet life in Dragon City ever since I’d given up adventuring over a decade ago. The kind of attention I’d earned myself back then hadn’t done me much good, and I’d learned to avoid it. Till now, that had served me well. 

“You underestimate yourself, Mr. Gibson. While you may not have the heir to the imperial horde draped over your shoulders at the moment, he spends plenty of time in your company.” 

“And you think that I might hold some influence over him? He’s a little young for that yet. He doesn’t even speak.” 

I wondered then if he would ever speak. The Dragon himself didn’t talk, not in the way that I understood it. He communicated through an elf proxy dressed in burning robes, known as the Voice of the Dragon. I assumed they had some kind of magical or at least telepathic link, but I didn’t know for sure. I’d only spoken with the Voice once, and drilling him about his relationship with the Dragon Emperor hadn’t seemed wise at the time. 

“That will come in time,” Benno said. “And we dwarves are as patient as we can be. When the day comes that your influence over the heir becomes more explicit and apparent, we want to make sure that we are in your good stead.” 

That got me suspicious. “And what do you want from me in return?” 

The other dwarves around the table chuckled at that. I wasn’t sure if I should join in with them or run. 

“Nothing.” Benno spoke with all seriousness, despite the laughter from the others. “We offer our assistance to you freely with no tethers attached.”

“That’s direct,” I said. “And appreciated.” 

I rubbed my chin. I didn’t have anything I wanted from the Stronghold at the moment, but it was good to know I had them in my back pocket should something come up. Or at least for as long as the dragonet still enjoyed my company — and the Dragon Emperor didn’t incinerate me for it. 

“Our apologies for taking you away from your business for the day,” Benno said. “Ingo there will be happy to return you to wherever in the city you like. If and when you need anything from us, please contact Johan, and he’ll make sure to put our resources at your disposal.”

Johan shuddered so hard at Benno’s words that I could feel him shaking through the stone floor between us. I suppose having the whole of the Stronghold to tap on demand on behalf of an outsider like me could put a dwarf in an uncomfortable position. I patted him on the shoulder and said to Benno, “My thanks, Mr. Bricht.” 

“Benno,” he said gesturing to himself. “We will become friends.” 

It was a statement of fact, and I didn’t care to argue it. Not in here for sure. 

I returned the kindness to him. “Max.” 

“We won’t keep you any longer from your pressing duties then, Max,” Benno said. “If there’s any way we can grease the gears for you — at this time or any other — be sure to let us know.” 

I rubbed the back of my neck as I considered this. Benno and the rest of the clan leaders arrayed around him leaned over the arched table, expectant looks in their eyes. 

I knew what this meant. As soon as I started accepting favors from the Bricht family, I’d become enmeshed with them. They might pave my way with bricks of gold, but somewhere along the path, they’d ask me to return a favor, whether I wanted to or not. I had no idea how high the price might be when that happened, but they weren’t the kind of people who took no for an answer. 

Of course, that was just as true now as it would be then. If I refused any help from them on principle they’d be sure to mark me as a potential foe rather than a friend, and they’d treat me accordingly. I didn’t like being obligated to anyone, especially in such a nebulous way, but I didn’t need any more enemies at the moment either. It would be a lot easier to just play along for now and only shatter that stone bridge if and when I came to it. 

At least that’s what I told myself. 

“Actually,” I said as I craned back my neck to look up at Benno, “I’m looking for a missing body.” 

C
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E
LEVEN

I’d never been to the Dragon City morgue before. I’d come close to being carted into it a few times — and I’d sent a few people there — but I’d managed to avoid it till now. When I stepped inside of it, I realized why. 

The morgue was located high in the Stronghold, on the edge of what would have been considered part of the Elven Reaches if it had been outside of the mountain rather than buried beneath it. It had an entrance that you couldn’t walk up to, although you could say that of lots of the structures this high up the mountain. The Stronghold Gate marked the end of what a person on foot could reliably reach, at least without a good deal of ambition and hopefully some climbing gear, and the way into the morgue sat high above that. 

Johan gave me a ride there in his palanquin, and I felt grateful to have the veils holding firm around us as we rose into the mid-morning sunlight. Yabair was sure to be on the hunt for me at the moment, hoping to drag me off to either the Academy or the Garrett, depending on his mood. If he or any other member of the Guard had spotted me inside the Brichts’ ride, it would have stopped my trip to the morgue cold.