The Fate of the Dwarves - By Markus Heitz Page 0,150

do the same, unless they’ve got Aiphatòn at their side,” Tungdil replied.

Mallenia had kept quiet throughout this exchange, limiting herself to furious glances at Hargorin Deathbringer. But she had held her tongue for the sake of peace. Ireheart could tell she was finding it difficult. In her opinion the Deathbringer had committed too many crimes in the name of the älfar. Ireheart had to admit she had a point. “I don’t like the pact we’ve entered into with the black-eyes. They’ve oppressed my people for so many cycles now and suddenly it’s all sweetness and light with Aiphatòn and he’s planning to lead the älfar to their deaths and to destroy their empires?” Her mouth narrowed to a very thin line. “I don’t believe it.”

“Who says the thirdlings are going to join us?” Rodario asked them to consider. “Right, one of their number has become high king—but don’t they still despise the other dwarf-tribes?” He glanced at Hargorin and Barskalín. “How can you remove my doubts for me?”

“Your doubts?” asked Hargorin in astonishment. “You’re an actor. You’re only sitting at this same table because you invited yourself. You have no part in decisions concerning the future existence of Girdlegard. You can’t even fight. But I suppose we can take you along as a mascot.” Barskalín laughed in agreement.

Now a smile, dangerous enough to rival Tungdil’s best, crept onto the actor’s visage. “Try to strike me and you’ll have to take back those words.”

Coïra leaned over to speak to Mallenia. “If I’m not mistaken, his face is looking much thinner.”

The Ido girl agreed. “And the lake has torn off a few beard hairs, I see.” Looking more closely she noted a distinct dark shadow round his chin, throat and cheeks. “But they’ll be growing back with a vengeance, stronger than ever, I expect.” The two girls exchanged glances, each reading the other’s suspicions.

In the meantime Hargorin had got up from his seat and had planted himself in front of Rodario. “You don’t know what you’ve taken on.”

“Yes, I do,” he said confidently. “But it is not nice to fight in the presence of ladies. It would not be fitting to smear the place with your blood and guts while they are watching. And at the moment we have a more pressing task.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Tungdil called impatiently.

“But I’m not being taken seriously merely because I appear on the stage. I can’t accept that. My question was not stupid: I was wondering about the loyalty of the thirdlings,” Rodario returned. “What if they decide to help the älfar? They’ve served them for over two hundred cycles. If there’s a shift in the balance of power they’ll suffer great losses—never mind that, they’ll be exposed to the rage of the humans in Urgon, Idoslane, and Gauragar. They’d be definitely better off if there’s no change at the top.”

“It’s worth considering,” Mallenia agreed. In gratitude Rodario sent her a long, warm look.

Rodario placed his hands on the table. “Can you understand why I’m hesitating here? What if the dwarf-haters were to attack the fourthlings and fifthlings while they’re marching south? We’d never manage a campaign against Lot-Ionan after that.”

“We follow Tungdil Goldhand,” smoldered Hargorin.

“We—do you mean all the thirdlings or a substantial majority?” Rodario tried to pin him down to specifics. “It would be interesting to learn what the minority might get up to? And what about the freelings? Where are they?”

Barskalín broke in: “They’ve dug themselves in in the last of their cities and are fighting off the thirdlings…”

“Aha!” said Rodario. “There you are, you see! The thirdlings are still attacking the other tribes.” He folded his arms belligerently. “I don’t see, with all due respect, any change in their attitude.”

“That will be because I haven’t issued any commands to them to stop what they are doing.” All heads swiveled round to Tungdil. “If the thirdlings suddenly changed their tune the älfar would smell a rat. Then Aiphatòn’s plan would be jeopardized and the northern älfar would be suspicious, too. That’s why I haven’t told them to stop their attacks. I can’t do that before Aiphatòn has set out with his army. The freelings will just have to bide their time and hold them off.”

Nobody dared to respond.

Finally, Ireheart cleared his throat. “So, tomorrow we’ll set off to Lohasbrand’s hideout. We’ll pinch his best bits of treasure and then hie ourselves off to the magus. As soon as we hear from the emperor of the black-eyes, we’ll send off some riders