"You must understand, Runethane," Odrick begins, "that the miners are always telling fool stories to each other, to pass the time. Their work is dull, and I don't blame them for it, of course. But it did mean that when the rumors started up a couple long-hours ago, about strange sounds down the bottom of the pit, the overseers didn't take them too seriously."

"Go on," I say, perhaps a little coldly—all this talk of miners and overseers brings back bad memories.

"I know, I know," he says hurriedly. "Maybe I should have been a little more vigilant. Especially with the war having begun properly, and all that."

"Indeed. I also notice that there were no guards posted at the bottom of the pit."

"No. The pit isn't meant to connect to anything below, so usually there's no need for anyone down there. Even the exploratory tunnels were dug long, long ago. No one goes down them, and they're short."

I nod. "So you thought the rumors were nonsense, then."

"At first. But I've never seen a rumor grow so strong in such a short amount of time, and certainly not a rumor this unlikely—some miners started to say they'd spotted a troll made from diamond, standing just within the tunnel entrance."

"It never emerged?"

"No. It had the good sense not to, it seems. Anyway, a few saw it, and then even the overseers were getting scared. Everyone's on edge, with so many new arrivals—it really does feel like a war's come. So, I promised them I'd go down and make sure there was nothing."

"And you left the other tunnels unguarded."

"They're shorter than this one. Barely even tunnels. And besides, the mine is never truly unguarded. We have a fleet of minecarts with blades attached—extendable. I made them myself. If any force was to enter the pit, they'd be eviscerated in seconds."

"You might have lured the troll out, then."

He grimaces. "That was one idea I had. But trolls aren't that stupid, and besides, what could we possibly offer something already coated with diamonds?"

"Meat?"

"Well, I suppose. But we only half believed the rumors, anyway. More likely, it was just some other kind of beast, or a natural phenomenon."

"So, you went down. And then I presume you saw that the tunnel had been extended."

"Yes. Some wanted to go back, then—but I persisted. I am a member of the Thanic Guard, Runethane. I have a reputation to uphold. I am meant to be a fighter, not simply an engineer."

I am starting to get a picture of what kind of a dwarf this Odrick is. He is clearly skilled with metal and runes, perhaps even ingenious with them. Certainly, I would never have thought to fix blades to minecarts. Yet he has been given a territory, which, though it will make him rich, will never expose him to danger. This shames him, I think. He believes the Runeking doesn't trust that he can fight. With this expedition, he sought to prove otherwise.

"When did you first see the troll?" I ask. "And did you see anything else—like a dwarf?"

"We didn't see it until we got all the way down here. It was over there, scraping at that wall." He points to beyond where Ithis stands. "Odd, isn't it? If this tunnel is sealed, where'd it come from?"

"What?" I say.

"Look, Runethane. This is a dead end. And look how smooth that wall is."

"Ithis, inspect it!" I order.

He advances, holding a torch out in front of him. Sure enough, he comes to a dead end, a smooth wall of black chalk. It has none of the white-chalk stars upon it, and absorbs light well, so I'd thought it to be just empty space.

"Scraping at it, you say? Trying to get through?"

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"Not really. It wasn't striking it. It just seemed confused. That's why I think it had been led here too."

"What about the stalagmites and stalactites further back? Were they there too?"

"Yes. What about them?"

"They aren't natural either. Shit, what is going on?"

I can't understand this mystery, not at all. A tunnel appears, and a confused troll emerges from it. Strange stone formations, designed to muffle sound, sprout from nowhere. And then the tunnel is closed off from behind, trapping the troll in Allabrast—and inside one of the city's most important economic resources, no less.

"I don't know," Odrick says, shaking his head. "We found the troll, and I thought we could take it on. Seven against one, and all of us at least second degree. Seems we were overconfident."

"We? You were overconfident," I snap. "You are the commander. This is your responsibility."

He bows his head. "I apologize."

"Apologize to the dead, not to me." I soften my tone a little—after all, I too just led dwarves down here to face an unknown threat. "In any case, we need to hurry back up to the city. The Runeking must hear of this."

I have six third-degrees pick up the bodies between them, and eight second-degrees lug the troll—despite its immense weight, it's far too precious to leave behind.

As fast as we can manage, we hurry back up the tunnel. Will it still be there? Might whatever mason, or troll, or miner or whatever it is that's warped stone so expertly, still be lurking in the tunnels to trap us?

It seems not. We make it back out into the pit without further incident. Short inspections prove that the other two tunnel-stubs are untouched. But I remain worried. The face of the master mason appears in my mind, and although I cannot quite remember the exact words he spoke to me, I remember the tone he spoke them with. A tone of utter hatred.

All runeknights were his enemy.

If that's the case, though, and if this was indeed their work, then why are they sabotaging us right before we go to battle against Uthrarzak? They might be doing it to his side as well, I suppose, but that seems counter-productive. Sabotaging both sides would just mean we kill less of each other.

No. They are working with him. He has promised them something, I think, and in return, they are offering their services for the war effort. That's my guess.

Yet—how could anyone, even the greatest mason, work stone quickly enough to trap a troll so elaborately?

Fortunately, everything—finally—starts to proceed a little more smoothly. Guardsdwarf Odrick has organized our billings with admirable efficiency, and soon all ten thousand of the force are settled in. Not comfortably perhaps, and there are complaints from the guilds that have been put in miner lodgings, but overall, the army is in good spirits. Especially now that I'm allowing them to go out to the public houses, so long as they stay in groups of at least ten.

The eight captains and I are shown to the best lodgings, in a kind of huge guest house contained within a massive, hollowed out boulder overlooking the mine. From the outside, it looks like a gigantic chunk of incandesite, glowing from within from its multitude of windows and balconies.

A short while after getting my room and forge set up, I find myself standing at a crystal glass window in the main hall, looking out at the diamond-studded pit while I sip from a glass of surface-fruit wine. It's my third. I'm glad to finally get some rest—though in my War Armor, I can never feel truly at ease.

"Apparently, Runethane Grovik has refused the call," says Lekudr, sitting at a table behind me. "He won't abandon his realm."

"He's not on the border though, is he? Not the one with Uthrarzak, at least."

"It seems he doesn't have much faith in Runeking Bolotorok."

I shake my head. "Neither do I, if I'm honest."

"You think he'll turn?"

"No. I just think he'll lose. When we spoke to him a while back, he seemed old, somehow. Like his amulet was starting to rust, or flake away. He was weak. Weaker than you—you seem more vital."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Do. Even now, I still can't believe you survived that thing."

"Neither, guildmaster."

"The Twins will defeat him if they choose to join the fight. I'm sure of it. The only question is whether they'll keep moving forward afterward."

"Runeking Bolotorok may be weak, but he has some fierce Runethanes under him. Hopefully they'll be able to do enough damage to discourage those mad-dwarves from going too far."

The Twin Runekings—though one should properly be called a Runequeen—rule the armor-shunning mad-dwarves of the sandstone lands. Runeking Bolotorok divides us and them, but the two kingdoms have been on poor terms recently. It's widely believed that they've been sending dwarves over the surface to do dealings with hated Uthrarzak. They are better able to cope with sunlight than most.

The geographical situation, then, is this: we stand facing Uthrarzak to our north and west. To our east is Runeking Talamat, who may or may not stay neutral—hopefully he will not want to risk marching his forces through slinker-infested underburrows. Then to our south is Runeking Bolotorok, facing off against the mad, chain-draped Twins.

But why worry about all of this now? Nothing can be decided until the Runeking calls us to the grand meeting. And since a quarter of the Runethanes are yet to arrive, it will be a while yet before he calls it.

I put down my wineglass and turn from the window. Despite the good drink, all this waiting is making me restless.

"Going somewhere, guildmaster?" Lekudr asks, surprised. "Or will you retire?"

"I'm too on-edge to sleep, so the former. I have a couple of places to visit. The libraries—there are things I want answers about. And... another place, too."

It's time to pay a visit to somewhere very important. Somewhere I should have made time to return to a while ago.

My eyes sting a little, all of a sudden.

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