a group of friends confronted a host of other-minded dwarves, the group spouting the praises of the man who had "stopped the traitor afore he could betray Mirabar to Mithral Hall."
"Ye're seeming a bit happy that Elastul's quick to jail one o' yer own," Shingles argued. "Ye're thinking it a good thing to have a dwarf rotting in a human jail?"
"Might be that I'm thinking it a good thing to have a traitor to Mirabar rotting in a Mirabar jail!" retorted the other dwarf, a tough-looking character with a black beard and eyebrows so bushy that they nearly hid his eyes. "At least until we've built the dog a proper gallows!"
That brought applause from the dwarves behind him, roars of anger from those beside Shingles, and an even more direct opposition response from old Shingles himself in the form of a well-aimed fist.
The black-bearded dwarf hopped backward beneath the weight of the blow, but thanks to the grabbing arms of his companions, not only didn't he fall, but he came rushing right back at Shingles.
The old dwarf was more than ready, lifting his fists as if to block the attack up high, then dropping to his knees at the very last second and jamming his shoulder into the black-bearded dwarf's waist. Up scrambled Shingles, lifting the outraged dwarf high and launching him into his fellows, then leaping in right behind, fists and feet flying.
Battling dwarves rolled all about the street, and the commotion brought many doors swinging open. Those dwarves who came to view the scene wasted little time in jumping right in, flailing away, though in truth they often had little idea which side they were joining. The riot went from street to street and snaked its way into many houses, and more than one had a fire pit overturned, flames leaping to furniture and tapestries.
Amidst it all, there came the blaring of a hundred horns as the Axe of Mirabar charged down from above, some on the lifts, others just setting ropes and swinging over, trying to get down fast before the rioting swept the whole of the Undercity into disaster.
Dwarf against dwarf and dwarf against man, they battled. In the face of the battle joined by humans, some with weapons drawn, many of the dwarves who had initially opposed Shingles and his like-minded companions changed sides. To many of those in the middle ground concerning the arrest of Torgar, it then became a question of loyalty, to blood or to country.
Though nearly half of the dwarves were fighting beside the Axe, and though many, many humans continued to filter down to quell the riot, it took hours to get the supporters of Torgar under control. Even then, the soldiers of the marchion were faced with the unenviable task of containing more than a hundred prisoners.
Hundreds more were watching them, they knew, and the first sign of mistreatment would likely ignite an even larger riot.
To Agrathan, who came late upon the scene, the destruction along the streets, the bloodied faces of so many of his kin, and even more than that the expressions of sheer outrage on so many, showed him the very danger of which he had warned the marchion laid bare. He went to the Axe commanders one by one, pressing for lenience and wise choices concerning the disposition of the prisoners, always with a grim warning that though the top was on the boiling kettle, the fire was still hot beneath it.
"Keep the peace as best ye can, but not a swing too far," Agrathan warned every commander.
After reciting that speech over and over, after pulling one angry guard after another off a prisoner, the exhausted councilor moved to the side of one avenue and plopped down on a stone bench.
"They got Torgar!" came a voice he could not ignore.
He looked up to see a bruised and battered Shingles, who seemed more than ready to break free of the two men who held him and start the row all over again.
"They dragged him from the road and beat him down!"
Agrathan looked hard at the old dwarf, gently patting his hands in the air to try to calm Shingles.
"Ye knew it!" Shingles roared. "Ye knew it all along, and ye're not for caring!"
"I care," Agrathan countered, leaping up from the bench.
"Bah! Ye're a short human, and not a thing more!"
As he shouted the insult, the guards holding Shingles gave a rough jerk, one letting go with one hand to slap the old dwarf across the face.
That