Tivi's Dagger (17 page)

That night the dwarves built a fine bonfire
outside the cabin and the air filled with the delicious scent of
roasted bird. Kornat, the shortest and sturdiest of the three, made
good use of Kari’s supplies on top of his own to produce rice
enough for ten as well as an aromatic and spicy gravy to accompany
the fowl. As they warmed to our presence, ale appeared in tankards
by our sides as if by magic. Even my brother did not object,
although he did not partake. We sat on old sacks in a half-circle,
warming our boots at the crackling fire as the night sky slowly
blanketed the mountains in darkness, punctured only by the light of
the stars.

When the meal was cleared, Lana rubbed her
belly contentedly. “That was by far the best feast I’ve ever had!
Health to your hands, Kornat. By the Gods, let us have tales to
complete this fine evening!”

The dwarf’s thick beard twitched with
apparent mirth and he gulped at his drink. “You know our ways well,
Lana of Lis. How about a fine rendition of Unfortunate Almus?
Fiernot, the bass.”

I had some experience of dwarven tale
telling in the past but it was always a joy to listen to their
gruff melodies. My belly pleasantly full, I sipped at the bitter
ale and glanced at Kari, who lay beside me, firelight flickering
across his features as he watched the dwarves warm up with an
expression that was all rapt expectation. I sighed with pleasure
once more at the sight of him as the dwarves cleared their throats
and lifted their voices in song.

Beside Lake Arkan in days of yore lived
Unfortunate Almus by the shore,

His hut had seen far better days, his
livestock starved through want of graze

His soil grew naught but tangling weeds no
matter what he spent on seeds

The village mocked his sad travails to
gather coin but he would fail

To such excuse — investor’s fright, the
weather’s bad, the time’s not right…

Long of beard but short of nous, it’s said
that all he did was grouse.

His neighbors often heard him bitch, “If
ills were coin then I’d be rich!”

One day his father passed and thus, coin
came his way but nothing much.

Enough to start again it’s true, but he
could not think of what to do

But count the gold out every day and hope
that luck would come his way.

One day a passing trader came, light of load
and dark of name

“
I am a magic man,” said
he. “A simple spell I’ll cast on thee

No more you’ll hunger, cry and moan, no
longer you’ll be skin and bone

No longer will you need to toil; just plant
your coin deep in the soil

And soon a tree will sprout for each; low
boughs will swing within your reach

Bearing gold instead of leaf; and once
you’ve picked yourself a sheaf

Then rich you’ll be without a care, and
fortune the burden that you’ll bear.”

So morning came and Almus stands out in his
field with coin in hands

The magic man did speak his spell,
muttering, gibbering and leaping well

Tossing herbs and calling the sky; smearing
pastes both wet and dry

Upon the soil and Almus last; the magic
spell was truly cast.

Then Almus did as he was told and in the
earth he put his gold.

Each day he tended his new seeds, yet
nothing grew but grass and weeds.

“
Alas!” cried he, “this
spell has failed.” He gnashed his teeth and wept and
wailed.

No trees would grow, no crop of gold, but in
his heart he was consoled –

Gold coins still lay beneath the grass so he
took a spade in hand at last

And dug and dug, but once
more left sad — the coin was gone, for he’d been
had
.

Lana burst into enthusiastic applause which
made me jump, so transported was I into the gardens of Unfortunate
Almus and his seeds. I joined her, and even Brin managed a feeble
clap. “A marvelous story,” I said heartily. “Is it one of Antrocus’
Cautionary Tales?”

The dwarves preened their beards, obviously
proud that we had heard of their most famed philosopher. “Indeed it
is,” Fiernot said. “Antrocus warns us against the shame of foolish
investments in many of his tales. It is a lesson that takes some
tellings to learn, unfortunately. And those who do not learn it at
all often find themselves outcast from their clan, which is about
the worst thing that can happen to a dwarf.”

“
Fascinating!” Kel cried, springing to
his feet. “What an insight into dwarven culture. I must record this
tale immediately! Thank you…thank you! I’ve never heard a dwarven
tale sung before…simply beautiful! Wait till I get back to the
university…” He scampered back up the ladder and into the cabin,
muttering to himself in academic rapture.

“
So the accumulation of wealth is the
most important aspect of dwarven culture?” Kari asked.

Fiernot began to pick his teeth with a
sliver of bone. “Certainly,” he said. “But don’t think to
proselytize, young one. Many have already wearied our ears with
tales of Matativi, the Thirteen, and other stray gods of men, none
of whom I care to remember. You can have all the love in the world,
but when all’s said and done you can neither trade it nor eat it.
Trade is the constant that unites; belief only serves to
divide.”

“
I do not seek to proselytize,” Kari
said. “For there is no point in talking to ears of stone. You may
love naught but coin and trade but you are no different from a
swooning poet who lives to pen verse about his lover. Our language
has many words for love, and all who live experience it whether you
acknowledge Matativi’s gifts or not. How can you describe all the
colors in the world with one crude word?”

“
I’m confused,” Lana admitted. “I
thought Tivi was the bringer of pain, not love.”

Kari shifted and settled his boots closer to
the fire. “Perhaps it will help you to see it thus. Mata’s smile
bestows happiness and joy; Tivi’s dagger is the dark side of love.
Pain, obsession, unrequited longing…all have their place in the
heart and must be endured. If you do not grieve for something’s
loss, then you did not love it much to start with. It’s impossible
to separate the tangled creepers of the heart into light and dark,
for they are one as Matativi is one.”

Kornat refilled his tankard from a heavy
earthenware jug and let out a hearty belch. “Bah! This young one is
touched by the silver — I knew it! I tire of this weighty
conversation. Where is that firewater, Fiernot? Our mouths will be
better occupied by more tales and drink!”

I expected my brother to chip in with a bit
of preaching of his own, but it appeared that he had become bored
of the conversation just as Kornat had, and was sleeping
soundly.

Lana lifted her tankard with a grin. “Well
then, I’ll continue with my own favorite. I don’t rightly recall
the name of the tale itself nor the whole of it, but it’s surely
one of Antrocus’s.

“
Waste not your time in
such a flurry, for tempting ‘tis to stress and hurry.

Put down your burden and up your feet, and
take a rest so we may eat.

The fire yet burns, so
grab some ales to sup a while, with friends and
tales
.
”

“
To friends and tales!” the dwarves
chorused, and to my great relief, there was no more discussion
about affairs of the soul. Brin started awake at the noise and
hobbled off to bed without another word. I realized that it had
been some time since I’d heard my brother preach and was suddenly
grateful for the peace his silence brought to my ears. I cracked
open the firewater and shared it around and our little party was
soon as drunk and raucous as a gathering of ravens at a cider
barrel. As I reached for my tankard my hand brushed against Kari’s
and he smiled at me. I couldn’t control the silly grin that spread
over my face. How happy I was, suddenly! All my troubles seemed a
thousand-mile away; this wife who awaited me, the thought of taking
over my father’s estate and all the tiresome legalities therein,
society balls and feasts to introduce my new bride — why, the whole
situation was ridiculous and surely would not come to
pass.

“
Lord Nedim Melchion, at your
service.” Light of head, I practiced the introduction I would one
day have to make, and began laughing uproariously at how
pretentious it all sounded.

“
Now, now, Ned,” Lana chuckled.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Withdraw your imagination and
put the future behind you, so we may have fun in the here and
now!”

Kornat began to lead his companions in a
harmonious rendition of “The Randy Merchant” and we sang and drank
until my memory began to fade alongside the flames of the fire.

The next morning, after an extremely
uncomfortable sleep top-to-toe with my brother in his bunk, Brin
was finally able to get his boot on and I began to prepare for our
imminent departure. My head felt somewhat furry on the inside and I
tried not to breathe too heavily, lest the aroma of stale firewater
and ale permeate the nostrils of my brother. Apparently our dwarven
friends had polished off the remaining firewater after we’d
retired, and were looking unlikely to continue their journey south
for another day or so. The donkey’s tail twitched as Kel strapped
the last of our dwindling supplies to its back. “Where is your
armor, cousin?” he asked my brother. “Do you wish to wear it, or
will I…”

Brin held up his coin purse and jingled its
contents. “I’ve traded it. Coin will be more useful and besides,
that armor has been nothing more than a burden both to me and the
poor beast. By the Gods, let’s move! I tire of the sight and smell
of this cabin.”

I looked at my brother in astonishment, but
he just glared at me before leading the donkey forth.

Fiernot poked his head out of the door and
shouted after us in his gruff voice. “You are not the only dark
skins about these parts, Lana of Lis! There are two ahead of you,
hanging about a ruined farm beyond Khar Tam and sticking out like
the proverbial thumbs with all their shivering complaints about the
cold and such! There’s a dragon at Thar Mati too, and plenty
lingering to see it who are willing to trade if you’re interested.
Very profitable indeed!” He gave a hearty chuckle and slammed the
door, no doubt to count the coin he’d fleeced from us — their
prices had been truly outrageous, but we’d had little choice but to
pay what they asked. But they had entertained us well, and I was
grateful for their appearance. It had been a welcome
distraction.

“
So our pursuers are ahead of us,”
Lana mused as we began to walk. “And yet while facing danger,
Brindar has sold his armor. What a topsy-turvy world we live
in!”

Chapter 5

The ruined city of Khar Tam was nothing like
my imagination had painted it. I’d pictured mysterious black rock
buildings smoothed away by time, carved walls and steps, a
still-fine palace basking in beautiful decrepitude, perhaps
shrouded by creepers that had made their homes in the cracks.
Instead, we found ourselves standing at the meeting of the path and
three sheer rock faces with no more room to walk more than twenty
steps between them. The city — if that was what it had been — was
little more than a set of lofty spires far above us. The rock had
crumbled away from part of the ancient wall — almost
indistinguishable from the mountain it was carved from — to reveal
black holes which must once have been fine walls of rooms and
passages not lived in for a long, long time. Through the thin layer
of mist that hung eerily about the place I could just about make
out the outline of a shattered tower. Arrow slits gaped darkly down
at us like watchful eyes.

Before us lay the black entrance to the
caverns.

Kel scratched his head, craning his neck to
see what was left of the city. “Call me intellectually inferior if
you dare, but I don’t see any way up there.”

“
The only way up is through the
caverns below.” Kari nodded ahead.

“
Impregnable,” Kel muttered,
apparently awe-struck.

“
I think it’s about time you stopped
beating about the bush and told us what’s in there, Kari,” Lana
said, fixing her daggers at her side. “You said there was some
danger to Ned — I want to know everything.”

Kari nodded. “I did not intend to beat about
any bush, but nor did I wish to burden your minds with
apprehension. When I passed through the caverns I saw nothing but
the swords that hang from the roof and the spears that grow from
the ground. It felt as if I was in the dark maw of some giant
beast, but I was with my grandmother, who has seen the caverns more
than once. It’s said that many ages ago a portal from the fae world
was strong here, but over time the rip has begun to heal, much as
skin grows over a wound. You must keep your heart calm, for it’s
said that fae creatures can yet see through the skin, and will
feast upon your fears and drive you to madness if they should
detect your presence. That’s why passing through these caverns is a
test for all who take the silver, for Matativi teaches us that true
warriors must have peace in their hearts at all times. If that’s
the case, you should feel little more than a prickle at the back of
your neck as the fae gaze sweeps past you and into the darkness
beyond.”

“
Seems a bit contradictory,” Kel said,
scratching his chin. “From the little I’ve seen of warriors, they
seem to roar and rage as easy as sup an ale.”

Kari shrugged. “Rage serves only to blind.
Methar’s warriors are accomplished and feared, it’s true, but we
are relatively few in number, so we must choose our battles wisely
with open eyes. For you, Ned…I fear I do not know how to defend
against any fae possession, since I’ve never had cause to study it.
You know your own magic; have you ever encountered such dangers
before?”