Chapter 9

It took much to exhaust a dwarf. Masters of architecture and engineering, they were tireless laborers. Niom had heard of his ancestors erecting citadels and cities in a fraction of the time it took other bloodlines, and all while instilling their creations with an austere grandeur. No mine was safe from their excavations, even those in the Deep plagued by the abominations born of the chaotic sorcery that lay in the World’s Womb.

Niom had always taken pride in being a dwarf. He’d striven to be the best of his bloodline. Even if he occasionally perpetuated tales of their quick tempers and boisterous revelry, rare was the moment he discarded the mantle of being a paragon of his people. In Elendol, he might be the only dwarf Mirelings ever met.

Yet as Niom left the Agarae warehouse that evening, his shoulders were sloped and his head bowed. The day had been difficult as they prepared for the latest caravan’s departure, but that was nothing he wasn’t used to. All that day, he’d moved about with his head full of all that could have been. All that he would never see.

He hadn’t any other choice but to refuse Leras’s offer, yet that didn’t stop him from imagining a different life. One where he wasn’t obliged to stay. One where he could go with his friend to see the World.

Life encompassed more than the Mire. He’d always known that, always yearned to reach beyond it. But when keeping the little ones fed and a roof over their heads required him to labor from dawn to dusk, what room was there for more?

During his brief childhood, Niom had enjoyed reading. He liked the stories held between pages, visiting all those far-off foreign places in his mind. He was glad his little siblings had the chance to experience them, too, and that Leras’s mother, the Elf Queen, sought to educate the entire population of Elendol as much as she could.

But that was all he would ever taste of adventure. For him, a life of tedium and labor was to be his lot. He knew there would be a time when his siblings were grown and able to fend for themselves, but what of his mother? If she fell ill, her care would fall to him, the eldest of her children.

Niom shook his head and shuffled along the muddy pavers. No—he would never experience life beyond the canopy of the kintrees. Elendol would be his home from cradle to grave.

Don’t sulk, he remembered his father saying a little while before he died. It don’t look good on a strapping lad like you, hear?

He tried to hold it all in. As soon as he reached home, he would stuff it down again, for his family’s sake. But all he could think of just then was the numbing touch of iceleaf and the escape at the bottom of a mug of ale.

“My, my, you make for a sorry sight.”

Niom startled and looked up. As ever, Lelweth arrived when he least expected—and least hoped for her.

“You again,” he growled. “Getting sweet on me, are you?”

Her laughter was like crushed glass in his ears. “You do have a certain gruff charm! But no, my dear Niomadrum. Our master has another task for you.” She circled him, every step as smooth as a panther’s prowl. “It’s a…momentous one.”

The thick hair across his arms stood on end. Niom folded them, hoping she wouldn’t notice. “What’s that?”

Her eyes widened, the scarlet of her irises somehow seeming to intensify. “Ah, but you already know, don’t you? I see it in your face.”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

Lelweth’s smile dimmed. “Just because you are of the Stalwart Blood doesn’t mean you must always be stubborn. But very well, my stout friend, I shall play along. It is simple: you must accompany the Venaliel prince on his journey north.”

Only anticipation of the request allowed him to hide his dismay. How did she know? How does she always know?

It was a losing battle, but he had to fight it. For his Ma’s sake. For his little siblings.

“Can’t. Just turned him down this morning, matter of fact.” Niom shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Guess old Spinner has to find another Yarn to pluck at.”

Far from dissuaded, Lelweth’s smile returned. She slid closer, standing only a foot away, near enough that he caught a whiff of some sweet dessert on her breath. Her hand trailed over his arm, disregarding his tenseness.

“Don’t make me tug your strings, Niomadrum Feldrif. You won’t enjoy dancing to my tune. Nor will your family.”

He shrugged her hand away. There was no stifling his anger now. “Leave them out of it, Lelweth. I mean it. I don’t owe the Spinner a damned thing more than he owes me. I give, he gives back. Even trade.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Lelweth moved to stand at his right shoulder, peering back out into the deserted street. “Let’s put it like this. Each coin we’ve put in your family’s flat purse has a string threaded through. Anytime we like, we give them a little tug. Like now.” She studied him from the corner of her eye. “Rather appropriate analogy, don’t you think?”

He wanted to deny it again, to tell her to go to the red hells. But he couldn’t. His family depended on the Spinner’s coin.

But they also depended on him.

“I can’t leave Elendol, Lelweth. Ask something else and I’ll do it. But for my family’s sake, I can’t do this.”

The gnome gave him a lingering look, then hummed in the back of her throat. She strolled to the end of the alleyway and peered around for a moment before slinking back to his other side and whispering in his ear.

“You believe you’re impoverished now. That things cannot get any worse for you and your kin. But you are wrong, my dear dwarf. Things can always get worse.”

She didn’t need to explain her threat; Niom’s imagination was more than capable of inventing it. The Spinner’s reach and resources were vast beyond his comprehension. Niom didn’t doubt he could take away his livelihood in a moment and prevent him from finding any other. Without income, it would take mere weeks before his family starved. Perhaps only days.

He felt like he stood in a swamp, the World swallowing him into the mud. Drowning.

“Who’ll look after them?” He hated the weakness in his voice, too close to how his Pa had sounded on his deathbed. “Who’ll pay for food and clothing? Protect them?”

“Don’t make me sound a boar, Niomadrum!” Lelweth peeled herself from his side to pivot around and face him, hands propped on her hips. Her eyes gleamed with triumph. “I would be honored to care for your kin. Under my watch, they shall want for nothing. More than can be said with you looking after them.”

Even inured to her insults, the barb stung. But he had greater concerns than his tender pride.

“And how would you do that without tipping them off to all this?” he pressed. “No, it can’t be you.”

“If you insist.” The gnome cocked her head to one side, curls falling with the movement. “But I assume you have other arrangements in mind? I will not hear more of your protestations.”

“Yes. I have…someone else.”

Dwarves had hardy constitutions, but Niom felt sick to his stomach then. He’d refused Leras’s offer of aid for so long and so vehemently it was like digging a pick into his own leg to accept it now.

Better than them being in this harpy’s claws.

“Good! If you don’t wish to receive our master’s generosity, I am more than pleased to retract it. Now then, if that is all, you’d best scurry off. You would not wish to miss their departure!”

Lelweth turned back into the deeper shadows that gathered beyond the hovering werelights. Before she entirely vanished, Niom rallied himself and spoke to her back.

“I want one thing.”

Slowly, the Yarn turned back, one dark eyebrow raised. “And that is?”

“My strings cut.” He could scarcely believe his words even as he spoke them. He pressed on before doubt could silence him. “No more threats. No more coins. Just a clean cut. Got it?”

The gnome studied him in silence. Slowly, her smile spread again, a hint of her teeth showing.

“Very well. Upon your return, Niomadrum Feldrif, our master shall relinquish you of your duties. Until then, stay close by the prince’s side. Listen and see all you can. We’ll be in touch soon, I’m certain.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, but turned and strode off. Even before she turned the corner, Niom lost sight of her. Her disappearance had to be sorcerous; dwarves had keen vision in the dark, but gnomes were as capable of spells as any elf.

Niom rounded his shoulders and raised his gaze to the canopy. Though he loathed admitting it, Lelweth was right. He had no time to delay. Leras and his company would leave in a few brief hours, and Niom had tangles of knots to untie before then. Starting with slinking back to his friend and, at long last, accepting his family’s generosity.

He’d expected the boulder-sized lump in his throat at the thought of leaving his family. What he didn’t expect was the lightness in his chest.

He was leaving Elendol. Truly leaving.

His worries hadn’t vanished; he would worry aplenty for his family still. But the decision was set. As far as he could see, he had no other choice in the matter.

And it’s past time I saw the World.

Nodding to himself, Niom shrugged his shoulders, then set off at a lumbering run toward House Venaliel.