“It’s not the only thing I could be burned at the stake for.” Apparently some of Sasha’s attitude from the previous evening had registered in her mind. She laughed, looked around with her beatific smile and said, “How much further to Khazduroth?”
“Another day or so, if we make good time along the road,” said Sasha. “We’ll be in Prospect Valley by the evening.”
“What’s that?” Boreas asked.
“It’s the prospector’s camp outside the Gates of Khazduroth.”
“Sounds like a charming place.”
“You can get your throat cut in there quick as dropping pennies. Keep your hands on your swords and your wits about you. The City in the Deeps is worse.”
“Why do they call it that anyway, the City in the Deeps?” Boreas asked.
Karnea cleared her throat. “It was the site of the Shrine of Morakana, Princess of the Deeps, the Mother Goddess of the Khazduri. It was the largest of their cities and the one blessed with most children because of her patronage. Of course, that was before the Plague and the Long Dying.”
“They say the Shrine is down there still,” said Sasha. “The dwarves still go there.”
Karnea looked at her. Her eyes blazed with interest. “You have seen this?”
“I have seen dwarves,” she said. “In the distance, in the Deep Dark. They avoid humans but they are still there or so people claim. You can see their sign inscribed on the walls sometimes, where it was not before, as if they were leaving cryptic messages for each other.”
“No word of this has reached Aethelas,” Kormak said.
“Who would tell you? The only people likely to see it are a few prospectors, the boldest ones, who go into the Deep Dark.”
Sasha sounded thoughtful. “Most people don’t want to think about the dwarves. We take their stuff after all. It’s a kind of robbery, I suppose.”
“That means it is possible we may see some,” Karnea said. She sounded thrilled. “We might be able to trade with them.”
“Maybe,” Sasha said. She did not sound very positive. “They are very shy.”
“Still dwarves are rare now in the world, and these ones may have much to tell us,” Karnea said.
Boreas lifted his pack and hefted his great two-handed hammer using it like it was a staff. “We’d best be going if we want to see any of these wonders,” he said.
They set off down the path to where it connected with the road. The marks of Otto’s band’s passing were still there from last night.
As they marched, the weather got dirtier. The clouds lowered until the peaks above them were obscured by mist. The wind grew stronger and chillier, whipping Kormak’s cloak around his body.
The pony clopped along beside him, hooves ringing on the cut stone of the Dwarf Road. They passed one of the ancient milestones, a stone figure, somewhat man-like but broader and squatter and a good deal shorter. Its edges had been softened by centuries of weather, and the runes along its side were filled with lichen.
Karnea squinted at them. “It says we are three leagues from the gates,” she said. “It is a marker representing one of the warriors of King Malki Ring-giver. The third of that name.” She looked at them all and smiled. “I am glad I came. On our way back I would like to make a sketch of that stone.
“You know a lot,” Sasha said. Karnea beamed.
“I spent a lot of time in the library at Mount Aethelas. It has the greatest collection of Khazduri literature and literature about the Khazduri anywhere on the surface.”
Sasha smiled as if she understood that point. “Who knows what was lost in the Underlands during the Long Dying though?”
“Precisely. I am hoping we may find some new stuff. I regret not having more time to spend in the bazaar in Varigston. Someday I’ll come back and really have a rummage about.”
Sasha looked suddenly wary, as if she had been tricked into talking to the sorceress as she would any normal person.
Boreas was striding ahead, gaze fixed on the road. Kormak glanced behind to make sure nothing was coming on them from behind. He felt as if in the clear mountain air he ought to be able to hear anyone doing so, but it never hurt to be careful.
He found that in an odd way he was enjoying himself. He was walking through the sort of terrain that reminded him of his childhood, and when the clouds occasionally parted they gazed down into huge valleys cleaved out of the titanic mountains. Clouds floated below them as if they were the Holy Sun himself looking down from the sky.
“What are you thinking, Sir Kormak?” Karnea asked.
“I was thinking that Aquilea must be over there somewhere,” he pointed towards the Northwest.