Oberon's Dreams (26 page)

“I understand that,” Corin said. “But the risk—”

“It will stop him coming after us,” Avery said. “It will bury whatever cannons he has down here—”

“Alas, but most of those are with his troops,” Ogden said. “I saw to the deliveries myself.”

“What troops?” Corin asked.

“A regiment in Ephitel’s colors,” Ogden said. “Camped with all the others outside the city.”

“That’s where he’ll go,” Corin said. “If we cut off this venue, if we bring down his house, the only move he will have left is to get to that regiment and bring them into the city. He’ll march on the palace.”

Avery nodded. “He might be heading there already.”

“How long will that take?”

“It depends upon the traffic in the city, but knowing Ephitel…two hours? Three at most.”

“We have to stop him. He’ll use those guns against the citizens.”

Ogden gaped. “That seems too much, even for him.”

Corin raised his eyebrows. He pointed out into the cavern to one of the powder kegs mounted on a supporting pillar. “What do you think he intended for those?”

“A last resort, in case we were discovered.”

Avery snorted. “This is the ground beneath the Via Autunno, right to the palace bridge.”

Corin nodded. “He meant to move against the king, then sink the plaza and cut off any aid across the river.”

Ogden cursed. Even his second swore an oath. “I never meant to aid in this.”

“No,” the dwarven chieftain said. “We’ll have no part in it. Take down the powder kegs. Brick up the wall and earth it in. We’ll take the prisoners to topsides and be done with them.”

“And the sword?” Corin asked.

“That still depends,” Ogden said, “on if your valor lives or dies.”

That meant Kellen. The dwarves moved Kellen, Corin, and Avery out into the cavern, and then they set to work. For half an hour Corin divided his attention between their construction and the fate of the wounded soldier.

He watched a wall go up in an amazing time. Stones were carved and shaped and slotted into the demolished wall without a seam. When the work was done, Corin could not have guessed which bricks were new and which were old. It looked as though the ancient wall had never been torn down.

But the dwarves did not stop there. They brought barrowloads of dirt from elsewhere in the excavation, dumping, piling, shoring up, until the wall was buried behind a dozen paces of earth. A cannon could not have cleared a way into the cavern from the cellars. The mansion was sealed off.

But as rewarding as that process was to watch, Corin spent far more attention on the other. He watched the dwarven medics as they probed the yeoman’s wounds. They extracted both lead shots—horribly deformed from their brief flights—and bandaged all his wounds. They applied unguents from small clay pots and chanted prayers to pagan spirits of the dark. They spent every bit as much in toil and energy as their brothers moving earth or breaking rock, but with half an hour spent, they had nothing to show for it. Kellen still breathed—if irregularly and only in panting wheezes—but he hadn’t stirred. His pulse was feeble and his skin burned to the touch.

When Corin judged that half an hour had burned away, he dragged Avery to hunt down the dwarven chieftain. Ogden brightened as the two approached. “Has your valor wakened?”

“Age of reason!” Avery grumbled. “I have the better part of valor!”

Corin shushed him with a gesture and answered the dwarf. “He hasn’t stirred. He makes no sign of progress.”

“Oh, well,” Ogden said with a forced cheerfulness, “these things take time. We’ll know more by tomorrow.”

“We don’t have until tomorrow!” Corin said.

The chieftain shrugged. “I understand you’re worried, but you must consider my position. I have a thousand lives looking to me—”

Corin waved him down impatiently. “I know, I know. I understand your requirements, and I will stay here until Kellen wakes. I only ask that you take Avery on ahead. Have someone show him to the surface so he can take a warning to the king.”

“Why me?” Avery demanded. “You should go. I’ll stay here with Kellen. I’m just as concerned for him as you are.”

Corin rolled his eyes. “No, you’re not!”

“No?” Avery threw a look back toward the wounded soldier, then he turned back to Corin. “Even so. Even so. I do want the sword as much as you do.”

“Not even close,” Corin said.

“I’ll argue with you there. I have every reason to hate Ephitel for what he’s done in the last year.”

“One year?” Corin asked. “Talk to me again when you can claim a thousand.”

Avery stepped back, his jaw hanging. “Honestly?”

“Aye. Maybe more. And all of it a tyranny that I would see undone.”

The gentleman dropped his head and shrugged pathetically. “I won’t contest you then. But even so, the king will not see me.”

“With the news you have, I think he will.”

“Ah, but there’s the catch—until he sees me, he won’t know what news I have.”

“Avery, we don’t have time for this.”

“Then we don’t have time to waste on foolish errands.”

Corin shook his head. “I suspect your sister will already be there. I just need you to take the latest news.”

“But if she’s not…”

Corin caught Avery by the shoulders and turned the thief to face him. He recognized the fear in the other man’s eyes. Avery was out of his element, baffled by the unrecognizable mess his world had become within a few short hours.

Corin remembered that feeling well, and he remembered how he’d overcome it. “Remember who you are. You’re Avery of Jesalich, legendary founder of the Nimble Fingers.”

“Yes, but—”

Corin cut him off. “You want an audience with Oberon? Go and steal one.”

Avery flushed red and stammered an apology. Corin spun, expecting to find chests full of dwarven gold or perhaps the legendary sword. Instead, he saw half a dozen dwarven lanterns gathered in a ring to illuminate the injured yeoman.

Kellen was pale as a sheet, his face drawn, his torn clothes now sodden with his blood. Dwarven medics worked around him, fretting ceaselessly, but for all their effort, Corin saw no sign of improvement.

Corin mumbled, “Oh.” He turned back to Avery. “You really
do
care about Kellen?”

The thief shrugged one shoulder. “Of all of us, he shouldn’t be the one who dies. We watched your fight with Ephitel, you know. We saw it all. The dwarves were waiting to see who would win, and Kellen…” He trailed off, choked up.

“He’ll make it through,” Corin said. “Heroes don’t die like this.”

“He
is
a hero.” Avery sighed with deep regret. “I called him a coward, just last night, and he proved more a hero than any of us.”

“He’ll come back,” Corin said. “The dwarves are master craftsmen, and their healers are no exception. They’ll bring him back.”

Avery forced a sad smile. Corin sighed. “You stay with him. I’m sure it won’t be long. Bring me the sword.”

Avery wrung his hands. “But you said—”

“No. This is best. I should have seen it from the start. The king will see me before he would see you. Just…take care. And do come quickly once you have the sword.”

“Of course! Of course!” the gentleman stammered. “Thank you, Corin Hugh. You have a noble heart.”

Corin couldn’t answer that. He left Kellen’s fate to fortune and the dwarves, and went off in search of Ogden Strunk. He found him not ten paces off, pretending not to listen. Corin forced a grin. “Avery is staying. I go to see the king. Can you find someone—”

“Aye. And someone’s me. You seem to be a man worth talking to, and there’ll be time while we walk.”

Corin watched while Ogden bustled over to his fellow dwarves. The chieftain spoke with them a while, then came back with a bundle tucked beneath his arm. He said nothing of it, merely headed off into the cavern’s depths, but the pirate’s curiosity wouldn’t stand for that. Ten paces in, Corin asked, “What’s in the rags?”

“A gift to make amends,” Ogden said. “You could call it a reward.”

They walked in silence for a while, the dwarf offering nothing more. Corin grunted. “I hope it’s something edible. I’m half-starved.”

Ogden didn’t laugh. “You’re talking to the wrong folks for that.”

“Oh. Aye. I suppose I am.” Corin licked his lips. “I’m sorry. I can speak to Oberon about that, too.”

Ogden cocked his head. “Can you really? Are you such good friends as that?”

“I can’t make any promises, but the king owes me a favor.” Corin looked back over his shoulder, toward the injured yeoman and the gentleman thief sitting anxious by his side. “The king owes a lot of favors.”

The chieftain snorted his agreement, but he said no more. For some time they walked beneath the city’s streets, until they left the sounds of voices and the workers’ lights all far behind. Ogden’s lantern was their only light, an eldritch thing that glowed without a flame.

While they walked, Corin made his plans. He would carry a warning to the king and beg transportation back to his own time and place. If the sword was really needed for that magic, Avery would bring it soon enough. But Corin suspected it was no such thing. Oberon had used him as a pawn against the lord protector. He had sent the four of them to find a lord of war.

Corin frowned. The four of them. Avery, his lifelong hero. Maurelle, the sister of his hero, whom Corin had chanced upon within a crowded plaza. The coward Kellen, an enemy of the House of Violets and yet a noble man, and one they’d needed to confront Lord Ephitel. There was too much of chance in all of that. If he considered this a plot, just how far did it reach?

Ogden interrupted his musing, though he never looked Corin’s way. “What can you tell me of Benjamin?”

“What?” Corin asked, caught off guard. “Ben—”

“My son.” Ogden kicked a stone, which skittered off with a hollow rattle that hung in the still air. The chieftain cleared his throat. “You said before that you knew my son. You come here from another time. What can you tell me of my son?”

Corin had no wish for small talk. Enormous things weighed on his mind, and this idle question only made it worse. What chance was it that he had stumbled across Ben Strunk’s father? But Ogden was yet an uneasy ally, and such things needed care. The pirate licked his lips. “I don’t…the druids said it isn’t wise—”

“Friya take the druids. I care little for their games. Just tell me what you know about my boy.”

“Ben Strunk. In my time, he is…an honest man,” Corin said, fabricating wildly. “Rich in valor. Honored for his handiwork. Everyone in Aepoli knows his name.” That much, at least, was true.

The chieftain wrinkled his nose. “A city dweller, then? Ah, I suppose it’s not so bad if he’s found fame.”

Infamy, more like
, the pirate thought, though he kept that to himself. He’d never known a dwarf more desperate for drink or worse at playing cards. Between the two, he was a useful man to know. But Corin wanted done with this discussion, and a generous fiction would serve them both. “I rarely go a week without paying him a visit,” Corin said. “And I always regret it when I do.”

The chieftain took the lies with all the naive pride of a new parent. “It warms my heart. It’s good to know he has a future, despite the things I’ve done.”

That struck a spark of guilt in Corin’s breast, and he could find no answer. Ogden seemed happy with the silence for a while. He led Corin on among the pillars, until at last they reached an earthen wall stretching off into darkness on either side. The dwarf had come unerringly to the only breach in the wide, clean-cut wall. A rounded passage angled up through the earth, for all the world like a man-sized rabbit hole. Or…
not quite
man-sized.

“It may be a tight fit,” Corin said.

“Oh, aye! Good thing you’re hungry, eh?”