Hammer and Feather

Notes: 1) If you see this story anywhere but Literotica it isn’t supposed to be there. 2) Because of shorter chapters, this is being posted in chunks.

* * * * *

*One*

“That’s too broad.” Syreilla shook her head at the plans being laid out in front of her.

“The gentle sun warms the king and the wretch just the same, and the punishing sun withers the vine and the weed with the same indifference.” Atos leaned back on his golden seat with a broad gesture and Isca shrugged.

Syr scowled at both of them. “Rielle is the one who needs to be punished. You may not care how many you hurt when you act, Grandfather, but I do.”

“I thought you didn’t like elves,” Isca smirked at her and Syreilla wanted to throttle the woman.

“As a rule, I don’t. But there are two I’m fond of and I’m not stupid. If you go to war with all of the elves, half-elves are going to be lumped in with them. I have siblings who’ll get hurt by this.”

Atos leaned forward again. “I will protect them.”

“What you’ll do, Grandfather, is let me look at things and come up with a plan. I’m good at this.”

“You’re young, Syreilla.” Isca shook her head, “You’re strong, but too soft-hearted if you won’t spread the pain a little.”

“I’m the goddess of righteous vengeance, Isca, and the protector of gentle souls. I can dole out the pain and destruction but I’m not going to let innocents suffer if I can help it. Think before you work.”

“The builders always said, measure twice, cut once, but it’s bows and axes, my girl.” Isca grinned, “In my experience when you see where the blow should land you hit your mark hard. If you do it right you don’t need a second strike.”

“If you’re hitting the elves, all of the elves, you aren’t hitting the right mark. You need to take some time and think-”

“I’ve been toying with ways to crush them since before you were born, girl.”

“And you spent how long on that temple of yours? I looked, I thought, and I took your temple out at the knees. Call me ‘girl’ again, Isca, I fucking dare you.”

Atos laughed quietly. “We will do some thinking, as should you, Syreilla. Consider the benefit of our experience and greater power.” He folded his hands and smiled at Isca before glancing back at her, “Visit the chamber I’ve made for you before you return to my brother.” A doorway opened next to him.

The memory of the last chamber he’d sent her into was at the forefront of her mind and she could see clearly that he and Isca were being devious. There was something murky hanging around them like dirty water.

“I have some other plans for the day. I need to visit Orsas. I’ll come back later, Grandfather.”

“I want you to see it.” Atos kept the door open.

“Grandfather…” She took a breath, “You do remember about my eye?”

“Yes.” He frowned.

“You and Isca are both murky looking, you’re being devious.”

Isca blinked and sat back in surprise.

“I remember the last chamber you dropped me into when you weren’t entirely happy with me and I would prefer not to be dropped into another when I have plans for the day.”

Her grandfather gave her a rueful smile, “I didn’t build it to hold you, sweet child.”

“I’ll come back when you’re in a better, less devious mood, and see it. You can show it to me.” She smiled at him and he laughed, closing the door.

Syr gave them a curt nod and stepped out of the room, opening a door to the foot of the mountain first to collect her waiting raven since Atos hadn’t allowed him to come inside with her for the discussion.

“Come on then, my friend.”

The bird looked at her curiously from its perch and she could see the question in his eyes as if he’d asked it.

“No, it didn’t go well. I have a bad feeling about all of it. I want to talk to Vezar about it but we need to go see Orsas, he’s expecting us.”

Opening another door, she let the bird fly through first. He was doing a lap around the immense forges as she stepped in.

“Are you bringing my bird back to me, Syreilla?” Orsas grinned as he made his way toward her.

“Never, I love that bird.”

“Have you given him a name?”

“I was going to ask if he had one. I don’t want to call him something he doesn’t like.”

The dwarf laughed and shook his head, “Name him, Rook. Give him a good dwarvish name.”

Syreilla held out her hand and the bird came to perch on it. “A good dwarvish name? Baduil.”

“A whole name, he’s not a babe.” Orsas folded his arms grinning.

“Baduil Rookfriend.”

“Badwill Rookfriend.” He shook his head.

“Ba-du-il. Not Badwill. After Batran and Kaduil.” She narrowed her eyes as she gave him an annoyed frown.

“It’s a good name, and I doubt anyone will be brave enough to tease him when they see your face.”

“I’ve been trying to think of a gift I can give you in return. There’s nothing that leaps to mind. Nothing I can find or make out of steel or gold can equal what a dwarf could make and…” she tilted her head and looked at him carefully with both eyes, one after the other, as he broke into a mischievous grin. He had something in mind already.

Baduil changed perch, moving to her shoulder.

“If you didn’t have that dragon at home I know what I’d ask for Syreilla. Has he made his way back into your good graces?”

“He has. Uncle has made him a god of purification and punishment.” She grinned impishly as Orsas eyed her with reddening ears, falling in to walk next to him as he turned away. “It suits him and he’s happier now. We both are.”

“None of the Fellwives enjoy that part of me.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing. There’s no pleasure quite like when he brings those teeth and claws to bear. But then Syreilla Hammersworn and I always did enjoy it when Kaduil would-” Syr jumped and laughed as the dwarf gave her a firm slap on the ass, the bird on her shoulder took flight in startlement. “You are such a flirt, Orsas!”

The black-haired dwarf grinned. “Dragons always take the best treasure for themselves. If you want to give me a gift, bless a dwarf and let me have a wife who will appreciate me in the same way.”

“You mean like my father does? Or is there another way to do it?”

Orsas grinned and shook his head again, “There’s another way, Syreilla. I’m not asking for your daughter. Share your heart and claim one, it’ll be enough.”

Baduil returned to his perch on her shoulder and they entered a door the dwarf opened. The hall was peculiar, it was as if they walked among the dwarves there but unseen and untouched. A hum, like conversations at the edge of perception filled the air. The dwarves moving around them almost seemed blurred and indistinct with her normal eye, but with her better eye, they looked sharp and vibrant.

“See if anyone stands out to you.” Orsas eyed the moving dwarves with something like satisfaction. “We can iron out details with the others later.”

“Orsas Fellforger!” A red-haired dwarf woman came storming through the crowd. “What are you doing here? And with an elf?!”

“Half-elf.” Syr offered a bow and Baduil took flight. “Syreilla the Rook.”

“The Rook!” The dwarf woman rounded on Orsas, “Why is she here? You said she wasn’t going to become one of us.”

Orsas made a shooing motion at Syreilla and she stepped away as the two dwarves began to argue. Baduil called to her from a distance off to one side and she made her way toward him. In a quieter, less crowded part of the hall, a small dwarf girl sat alone looking angry and tearful, her arms around her knees in a dirty dress. Syr stepped close to the girl and crouched, and as she did she realized she must have stepped out of the hall and into a mine. It was pitch dark.

“Hello?” The child’s voice wavered.

“Little one, why are you alone here in the dark?” Syreilla brought her flame to hand, giving a little light and the dwarf girl flinched back, her eyes wide. “I’m not going to harm you. I’m Syreilla the Rook, the goddess of righteous vengeance and protector of gentle souls.”

The girl drew a deep breath and relaxed. “You’re an elf. Why are you in a mine?”

“Half-elf, and the first real home I ever had was a dwarf mine. Dwarves have always been good to me, even when no one else was.” Glancing around in the light, she realized they were at the base of a shaft with no ladder.

“They haven’t been good to me.”

“What happened? Tell me, little one. Do I need to go breathe dragon’s fire on someone?”

Baduil somehow managed to join her, flapping furiously and looking ruffled as he came to rest next to the child who broke into nervous laughter.

“Is he yours?”

“He is, this is Baduil Rookfriend.”

“I’m Nali of Clan Flinthewn.”

“I don’t know that clan. Clan Hammersworn usually vouches for me. I have family among them, a niece and two nephews.”

“I don’t know Clan Hammersworn.” Nali nodded. “They must be in a different mine.”

“Delver’s Deep.”

“This is Half Shaft Mine but they call it Draft Shaft.”

Syr nodded and waited as Nali picked up a feather that had fallen loose from Baduil and stroked it.

“I ran away. They… I always get blamed and punished even when it wasn’t me. I get punished for the things my brother does and I just wanted to go away for a while so they could see. My light went out and I-I fell.”

“Ah. If you weren’t there to blame things on, they’d see you weren’t the one causing trouble. It’s not how I would have done it but it makes sense.”

Nali looked at her curiously, “How would you have done it?”

“If I’m going to be punished I’ll give them a reason to do it. When my brother started to get into something, I’d go cause some trouble somewhere that no one could miss it. I can’t be in two places at once, they’d have to pick one thing to blame on me. I’d still get punished but it’d be for something I did and he’d get his own.”

The dwarf girl grinned. “Maybe getting lost in the mine counts.”

“Maybe, but only if they know to look for you.” Syr held out her hand and the raven hopped onto it. “Baduil, my dear one, will you go find Sirruil and make certain someone is looking for Nali?” She opened a small door just big enough to fly through with the intention that the other side would open into wherever Sirruil was.

There was a moment of quiet after the raven vanished.

“If you can send him somewhere, can you take me home?”

“Maybe, but I’m not technically a dwarf god and no one likes it when I open doors and start strolling around wherever I like. They don’t mind Baduil so much, Orsas Fellforger gave him to me.”

“Really?” The girl leaned forward. “You’ve met him? Was he terrifying?”

“No! I like him! He’s a good dwarf and good company. There’s something to be said for punishment given fairly and taking punishment you’ve earned is good for the soul. Of course, getting into trouble and avoiding punishment altogether is a hobby of mine but I don’t think anyone has told him yet.” She tried to put on an innocent expression and Nali laughed.

“What about the Nightforged? Are they real? The stories say he smelted the meanness out of the worst dwarves and put it into steel and forged an army to protect the mines.”

“I’ve seen two of them and I was impressed. Malevolence and viciousness have their uses, Nali of Clan Flinthewn. If you put them to a purpose they can serve you well. Nothing is ever truly good or truly bad in and of itself. It’s all in how you use it.”

The dwarf girl nodded slowly. “You’re friends with Orsas Fellforger and they let you into this mine?”

“I was walking with him in his hall and I saw you. While he was getting fussed at by one of the Fellwives for letting me visit, I think I stepped to the side a little too far to make certain you were alright. If you don’t mind I’ll sit with you until someone comes. Once Sirruil gets to your mine it shouldn’t take him long to find you.”

Nali looked at the ground and shook her head, “No one is supposed to go down those tunnels, it’s dangerous. The hole is small. He won’t find it.”

“He will. He has Syreilla’s Eye. It lights the darkest rooms, there are very few wards that can hide from it, it can find a way into or out of any place that has an entrance or an exit, little one. Though, I don’t always need them. I’ve been known to break through walls if no one was thoughtful enough to leave me a door.” She grinned and the girl giggled. “It’ll show him danger before he steps into it and how to get around it. Syreilla’s Eye is very useful.”

“Why did you give him your Eye?”

“He inherited it from his mother, Syreilla Hammersworn. It was part of a stone of great power that had belonged to one of my uncles. It was stolen from him, carved, and set to purpose in the Glan Minrhia. I paid for it, and it became mine, because I won’t let anyone take away Sirruil’s inheritance, and I can’t let my family be stolen from. Sirruil needs it to keep himself and all those he loves safe. He uses it to secure the mines and I’m very proud of him.”

“Dwarves aren’t supposed to steal.” Nali frowned, giving her a stern look.

“They used to think it wasn’t so bad to take things from dragons.” Syr sighed and then shrugged. “Then my uncles destroyed the mine trying to get that stone back and they changed their minds.”

“Your uncles are dragons?”

Syr put on a wide grin and nodded. “I have a large, complicated family. Humans, elves, dragons, dwarves, gods… I’d be more surprised if you showed me someone I wasn’t related to than if you and I were cousins.”

Nali laughed. “Can you really breathe dragon’s fire?”

Stepping so that she was beneath the shaft, Syreilla looked up it, steepled her fingers with the fire still burning between them, and blew through the hole. A brilliant, hungry, tongue of flame roared up the shaft and caught the very edge, burning and casting flickering light and shadow above them.

“Dragon’s fire can even eat stone. Not for too long. There isn’t enough on it to make a good meal, but it’ll burn for a bit. This fire will burn until I tell it to stop. It may help attract attention.”

“But…” the girl swallowed nervously, “but what if they can’t get past it?”

“I’ll put it out once Baduil comes back. It comes when I call and goes when I tell it to.” She came to crouch near the girl again, “Sirruil likes to call me the Lady of smoke and flame.”

There was a strange sound above them and Nali tried to get comfortable on the stone floor. Syr was looking up curiously and the dwarf girl beckoned her over.

“It’s alright, Syreilla, that’s why they call it Draft Shaft. There’s drafts now and then from some caverns that the miners ran into.”

“Ahhh, that means there’s always ways in and out of here. If they take too long we can try to climb out and find our own way.”

“You’re not supposed to move if you get lost without a light. That’s how I ended up in this hole.” Nali shook her head.

“But you have me. I have a light and I can always find my way out of anywhere. There isn’t a prison or a treasure room that can keep me in or out if I set my mind to it.”

The dwarf girl giggled and Syr settled in to cuddle with her.

“This is a mine, not a prison.”

“Mines are easy to get in and out of. I helped them find ways in and out of Delver’s.” She let the fire in her hand go out and the only light came from above where the dragon’s fire clung to the stone’s edge.

°°°°°°°°°°

Syreilla got bored of waiting. She’d kept the girl asleep for perhaps a day or more hoping to keep her from being too hungry and after she’d woken the dwarf child, Syr started working on burning handholds into the stone mostly to entertain herself, and partly to send more smoke out where someone would notice it. Nali watched with amazement, fanning herself with the hem of her dirty skirt.

“It’s so hot, how can you stand it?”

“It’s part of me, it doesn’t burn me. But I’ve never minded the heat either. Do you ever go watch the dwarves who work the forges? It was one of my favorite things to do.”

“The forges are dangerous.”

“Yes, but fascinating. They take a lump of metal and turn it into something useful or beautiful or deadly using a flame and strength of will, dwarves do it better than anyone. I can sit and watch for hours.”

She glanced at the girl as she let the holds she’d made cool, they only went as high up as she could reach. “I liked trying my hand at it. I wasn’t too bad. Batran said the trick was knowing what you wanted and beating the metal until it gave in and saw things your way.”

Nali broke into laughter.

There was a flutter of wings from above and Baduil joined them.

“Nali?” Sirruil’s voice wafted down as if he were calling from a distance and Syreilla made the flames above flare before putting them out.

“Call out to him.”

“I’m here! I’m-I’m here!”

Baduil let out a series of loud calls and the sound of activity above was unmistakable. Someone was cursing the hot stone and there was an argument about pouring water on it or using a blanket. Something began to hiss above them.

“I think it’s time for me to go, but I’ll give you a gift if you’ll let me, Nali of Clan Flinthewn.”

The girl beamed as a torch dropped down. “Yes!”

Grinning, Syreilla picked up the feather next to the girl and ran her hand up it. It turned from inky black to solid gold. Pressing her face to the dwarf girl’s she spoke softly, “Call on me if you ever need me. Speak my name and hold this. I promise you, I’ll come.” Giving her a kiss on the head she whispered, “Tell Sirruil that if you want to leave, or if they keep punishing you for your brother’s bad behavior, he’s supposed to take you with him. I wouldn’t mind if you inherited Syreilla’s Eye and my nephew will be good to you.”

Nali laughed and Syr stepped back just as Sirruil came down on a rope.

“Is she laughing?” Someone sounded angry.

Sirruil’s face broke into a grin as he bowed to the place Syreilla was standing even though she was back in Fellforger’s hall. She couldn’t hear them anymore but Nali was speaking animatedly, waving the feather.

“You picked a troublemaker.” The red-haired dwarf woman from before was giving her an annoyed look.

“I am a troublemaker! We’re the most fun to have around!” She offered the woman a wide smile and allowed herself to be shooed out to the forges again.

Orsas was grinning as he came toward her. “I have a long time to wait but she has promise.”

“I gave her a feather and I told her that she can call me if she needs me. What do we need to arrange so that I can keep my word?”

He laughed. “She’s yours, Syreilla. No one will interfere if she calls on you.”

“Why is Sirruil talking about adopting a little girl from some two-man clan?” Orefinder came storming into the forges.

“I told her to tell him that if they won’t stop punishing her for her brother’s misdeeds he should take her with him. I don’t mind if she inherits-”

“I mind, Rook! He’s mine!”

“And Syreilla’s Eye belongs to Syreilla.” Orsas grinned, “As does Nali Rookfriend.”

Baduil preened on her shoulder before croaking out, “Nali.”

“Would it be too much to ask if I let Baduil look in on her from time to time?” Syr opened her hands, putting on as innocent and hopeful an expression as she could manage.

“Who is Badwill?” Orefinder narrowed his eyes, “The bird?”

“Ba-du-il.” She dropped the innocent face to give him a sour look and he took a half-step back.

“Baduil Rookfriend may look in on her but not too often.” Orsas folded his arms, his dark eyes glittered.

“Thank you, Orsas.”

“She’ll get into enough trouble without your help.” The black-haired dwarf grinned at her.

“I’ll help her get back out of trouble! That’s the part I’m best at!”

He laughed and Orefinder muttered something in dwarvish that made Fellforger laugh harder.

“Say that again? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“The part you’re best at is being difficult, Rook.”

She straightened her cloak proudly and Orefinder broke into a grin, “You look like that bird when you preen.”

“I need a few more feathers.”

“You’ll have talons, soon, Syreilla.”

“Did you ever make that boot knife you wanted?” Orefinder gave her an amused look.

“No, I’m still making do with the old one.” She bent and drew it out to show him the plain, human-made blade.

“I’ll make one of those too.” Orsas gave it a disgusted look.

“It’s not the best blade I’ve ever had but it serves its purpose. I’m not ashamed to carry it, I just wanted a better one. I’ll put it back in reserve for when I need a knife and don’t have another at hand.”

The dwarf held out his hand with a look of annoyance. “I’ll give you a better one to keep on hand.”

“It’s not a bad little knife.” She handed it over and he looked at it closely.

“For a human smith, it was adequate work. A goddess should carry better.”

“You sound like Vezar. He wants to build me a library with golden shelves.” Syreilla shook her head and the dwarves grinned.

“He should collect those little glass figurines for you,” Orefinder teased.

“It isn’t all figurines I like, it was just those. And I don’t want a home filled with gold, I wanted a shelf to put the books he and my cousin brought me on. I made plain wooden shelves and he changed them.”

“You can’t keep a dragon from filling his home with gold.” Orefinder laughed and gave her a look as if she’d done something silly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, I’m keeping him from filling my home with gold. We have separate chambers.”

Both dwarves looked at her incredulously.

“I love him and I enjoy going into his chambers every bit as much as I enjoy him coming into mine but we have very different tastes as far as what we feel a home should look like. Mine is uncluttered, stone, tree roots, open balconies, and no doors. His is much more closed, doors, windows, everything is black and gold, it’s beautiful and it suits him but I don’t want to live in his chamber.”

“What color stone?” Orsas smiled as he studied her.

“Mostly black, it looks so beautiful contrasting with the tree roots, but on my garden balcony, the stone is almost white. The dark stone with the dark earth looked strange, somehow.”

“I’ll ask Hevtos if I can come to see it.” The black-haired dwarf looked at her wistfully. “If you’d let me.”

“I love having visitors. You would be welcome to visit me if Uncle Hevtos will allow it. He can be odd with who he allows in and who he doesn’t. I know Bone White isn’t allowed in. Uncle scolded me for crossing the black lake with Finwion.”

The dwarves broke into laughter again.

“How did you cross it?” Orefinder grinned, “Is he still using that tiny wooden thing?”

“No, the wooden boat rotted. I remembered a story about stone boats left lying-”

Both dwarves started to swear about her breathlessness and she interrupted them.

“I know the laws of salvage!” Syr put a hand on her hip and frowned, “That boat had been lying there since before I was born, more than three hundred years is a respectable amount of time to wait and it was the last one lying there. The others must have been taken already.”

They looked at her with deep annoyance, and Orsas exhaled loudly before speaking. “You should have asked first.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone asking before they went to salvage something. If it’s any consolation, Bone White was impressed with it.”

“The compliment was probably backhanded.” Orsas folded his arms.

“I corrected him.” When they looked at her pointedly she continued, “He said dwarves were impressively clever, if only they could be civil. I told him if dwarves are rude it’s because elves have been first. I get along with dwarves.”

“I’d have loved to see his face.” Orsas gave her a smug smile, “You should have been born in a mine.”

“I’m a born troublemaker, Orsas. Dwarves have more patience than humans but I think it runs a little short with dwarf children. Nali’s a sweet girl, her family should have looked after her better.”

“Sirruil will look after her.” Orefinder rubbed his beard absentmindedly, “She’s already reminding him of his mother.”

“Then there’s no one better to look after her. He might have learned a few tricks his mother used to keep an eye on him by now, or guessed them, he does have Syreilla’s Eye. Dwarvish good looks were the only thing he inherited from his father. That boy kept her on her toes.”

Orsas chuckled. “Sirruil Flamedrawn keeps everyone on their toes. Come with me, Syreilla. I’ll get you a knife to take home and you can see what I’ve done with your talons.”

*Two*

Pacing in his audience chamber, Vezar waited impatiently for his Syreilla to return. His door opened and he spun to face it but it was only a spectral priest with a pair of souls. They looked at him fearfully and held out their feathers.

“These two belong to Syreilla.”

“She has not yet returned. Why does Grandfather allow her to visit the dwarves? They wish to steal my treasure.”

“She will return soon, Orsas Fellforger has spoken to Hevtos of the arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” Vezar growled and took a step toward him.

“She will return.” The priest slipped out leaving the two nervous thieves brandishing feathers at him.

“Come. You will tell me all you have done and then you will go to wait at the foot of her tower. When she returns, Syreilla the Rook will decide what is to be done with you.”

“What does she usually decide?” One of the thieves eyed him with some curiosity creeping into his fear.

“If you have a good heart you’ll have very little punishment, or perhaps none at all. If you don’t you may wish you hadn’t asked her to intercede. She’s the goddess of righteous vengeance and the protector of gentle souls.”

He nodded slowly.

The other inquired, “How does she decide that? If we have good reasons for what we did?”

“Syreilla the Rook will look at you and know. Her eye-”

“Syreilla’s Eye! I told you it wasn’t a myth! It belongs to the Rook!”

“Lady Rook.” Vezar looked at them with annoyance. “She is a goddess even if she dresses like a vagabond and a thief.”

Both men relaxed and grinned, “She’s one of us. You can make her a goddess but you can’t take the thief out of her.”

“If she decides you require punishment you come to me.” Vezar glowered at them and they stopped smiling. “My golden treasure is the daughter of Odos, her father raised her to be a thief, but she’s a goddess who should have a great deal more respect shown to her.”

They bobbed their heads and one offered an awkward bow.

Vezar took his seat on his throne, the black seat had what were meant to be gilded roots like the bottom of a fallen tree all around it but Syreilla had been impressed with the way it looked more like some sort of gold tentacled monstrosity reaching in all directions instead. She sat in the crown of the tree and he chose the roots. He glanced at his doorway. The moment these had been sent down he would inquire of his grandfather what arrangement had been spoken of.

One cleared his throat carefully, “If she’s the one who judges us why are we…”

“I have to decide in what form you should wait for her.”

The other looked as if he wanted to discuss the matter and Vezar’s tolerance evaporated. “I have no patience for you today. You will wait as a pair of her rooks until she returns.”

He waved his hand and the startled thieves trembled, their faces contorting as their bodies slowly changed into those of the black birds Syreilla was so fond of. With a thought, he opened the door that led to her audience chamber and beyond and the thieves-turned-rooks fell over themselves flapping and hopping to get through it.

Vezar stormed out of his chamber, searching for Hevtos. The god of death was standing on the threshold speaking to Isca.

“Allow me to enter. Have I caused harm-”

“Syreilla the Rook’s home is protected and her visitors must meet my requirements. I protect that gentle child and none whom I feel she should be kept safe from may enter to visit with her.”

“A goddess of vengeance shouldn’t be a gentle child.”

“Righteous vengeance, Isca. Her fury and viciousness are an armor to protect the soft heart within.”

The goddess snorted and departed the doorstep. Hevtos frowned and made his way to where Vezar stood in the shadow of the entrance.

“My brother told me that they argued with our Syreilla. She doesn’t agree with their plans. When she returns-”

“Where is she? What arrangement was made?”

“Orsas wants a Fellwife like Syreilla if he cannot have her. She agreed to help him find one and to bless a dwarf. The matter will take some time.”

“She’s giving the dwarf a child?” He felt his heart drop to his belly. “My Syreilla…”

“No. She is blessing a child already born. This is not as complete as the blessing Odos gave. This child will not be her daughter, though she may claim it as kin if she chooses.”

“I beg of you, let me find a place to make safe for her, a place I can give her a child of her own.”

“You have your tasks. Hers can be deferred at times, but yours cannot. You are needed.”

Vezar looked out at the threshold. “You could make a door…”

“No.”

“She wants a child. If I cannot-”

“Syreilla the Rook will not leave you. You are bound together tightly, touch your threads and be reassured.”

He wanted to argue but the need to feel his treasure was too great. Caressing the threads, he gently pulled on them to make her want to return. As he did, he felt her delight at something the dwarf was showing her. She held affection for him but she belonged with her dragon, she sent the thought and a passionate caress of her own across the threads.

Hevtos was smiling at him as he opened his eyes. “They may tease her for that. That was nearly lewd.”

“She will be home soon.” Vezar felt weight melting off of his shoulders. “I don’t want her giving children to anyone else, Grandfather. Her children should be mine.”

“The time may come when you can give her one, son of my son, but it is not yet here.”

With a hand on his back, Hevtos escorted Vezar back inside. Syreilla would be home soon.

*Three*

Syr turned her wide smile on Orsas as she noticed his red ears. “He gets a little impatient and wants to know when I’m coming home.”

“If you answered me that way I’d be impatient for your return too.” The black-haired dwarf gave her an appreciative look.

“Part of the fun of leaving is being missed and welcomed back. I’m troublesome enough, I have to give my poor dragon something to look forward to so that he wants me to come home.”

The dwarf laughed and shook his head. “Off you go, Syreilla, before I start thinking about stealing from dragons. I’ll have your talons ready for you soon and a better boot knife than the one I gave you.”

“Thank you, Orsas. I’d still like to come and watch.”

He laughed and his ears turned red again, “If you’d help me wash up after…”

“You’re trying to make me understand how my dragon got seduced, aren’t you?” She gave him a sour look and he broke into laughter.

Fellforger opened a door for her and she slipped through with a smile, Baduil following after. Hevtos’ doorstep was empty. Before she reached the entrance, Isca stepped out of nowhere.

“There you are! I’ve been asking about you for days.”

“The matters with Orsas took a little longer than I expected.” Syreilla tilted her head studying the goddess of war and hunting carefully with her good eye. The air around the woman looked like shade falling on a murky lake.

“Invite me in. I need to speak with you.”

“No.”

Isca exhaled in exasperation and Syr saw it billow around her like fog. “Come to my home. We need to talk, Syreilla.”

“No.”

They studied one another for a long moment.

“Why?”

“You’ve gotten murkier. I don’t trust you enough to invite you in or to believe you’d allow me to leave without a fight.”

“That would be rude. You’re too young to know the rules-”

“I’m old enough to know a threat when I see it. Every shadow and ripple around you tells me not to trust you, rules be damned.”

The goddess’ eyes narrowed but her smile was appreciative as if Syreilla had caught onto something unexpectedly and it pleased her. “Very well. I’ll arrange another location.”

For a moment after Isca departed, Syr considered going in but she traded a look with Baduil where he was perched on the stone of the opening. He felt it too.

“We have another errand. If something should happen to me, Baduil, you go back to Orsas and tell him I’d like you to look after Nali until I get out of whatever mess this is.”

The raven flew immediately to perch on her shoulder.

“It’s a comfort to know you’re next to me, dear one.”

She opened the door and a weight settled on her chest. Syr stood looking through, hesitating for a heartbeat, before moving her feet. It felt as if she were stepping toward something suffocating and terrifying. A weight settled on her chest and she had a suspicion she knew why.

Finwion’s clearing looked exactly as it had the last time she’d been here. This time, however, the large-eyed elf didn’t seem pleased to see her. He gestured wildly and seemed angry about her entering where she had.

Syreilla held up her hands. “I don’t know where else to open the door, Finwion, and I need to warn you.”

He paused and looked at her oddly, beckoning for her to continue.

“Can you feel it? The weight? Something bad is coming your way.” She took a deep breath and looked around as his head tilted. “They won’t listen to me. They have their plans; the goddess of war has her plans and my grandfather is out for blood. Get as many of your people to safety as you can. It’s going to fall on the mortals harder than anyone else, elves and half-elves alike.”

Finwion paled slightly and then darted forward to grab her by the wrist, dragging her through onto the far shore of the black lake.

“Uncle fussed-”

A furious voice rang through the air and she didn’t understand the elvish words. Finwion held up his hands in placation, moving away from the water and dropping onto his knees. Baduil took flight as Syreilla followed him.

“Syreilla the Rook?” Nimphon gave her a frigid look as he swept up to them, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Do you want me to use words or-”

She held still as he took firm hold of her chin. His eyes were the pearlescent grey of his stone but with the intensity of his scrutiny, all she could see was blinding white. It felt for a moment as if the floor was falling out from under her as her memories and thoughts were looked over. Syr blinked and rubbed her eyes as he stepped away.

“They dare?” He helped Finwion to his feet. “You are both forgiven for this trespass.”

“They won’t listen to-”

“This entire matter should have been brought to me, Rook.”

“And I’ll leave it to you if that’s what’s supposed to be done, but-”

The white-haired elf turned and gave her an exasperated smile, “Thank you for granting me what was already mine.”

Huffing, she adjusted her cloak, “You’re welcome. But that doesn’t change the fact that I couldn’t make them listen to me and I don’t see a way to stop them on my own.”

Nimphon gave Finwion a deeply amused look. “She came to you because you’re clever enough to help her stop them.”

The large-eyed elf grinned.

“They won’t soon forgive you for betraying their plans, Syreilla.” Nimphon gave her a speculative look, “If you need a new home, I will offer you one.”

“I only accept homes in places where I can come and go as I please and I won’t give up the one I already have.” Syr gave him a mischievous smile, “Besides I think Orsas is freeing up a spot for me with their birds. He gave me a raven and a dwarf.”

“Nali.” Baduil croaked, coming to land on her shoulder.

“This is…” Nimphon studied the bird with surprise.

“This is Baduil Rookfriend. I apologize for bringing him without asking. Nali is the dwarf Orsas allowed me to claim. Baduil is as fond of her as I am, I think.”

Finwion huffed.

“I get along with dwarves.”

“You would get along with elves if you behaved less like a dwarf.” Nimphon gave her an almost doting smile. “I have encouraged the others strongly to be kinder to half-elves.”

“I have the feeling that they’ll need the kindness.” She rubbed her chest as the feeling of weight returned. “Something is coming.”

“You’re a protector of gentle souls, the coming war feels like a crushing weight.” The elf inclined his head. “I will do what I can to stop this now.”

He gestured to the stone boat, she stepped into it with Finwion and the white-haired elf followed. As they crossed the water, the hair stood on her arms and Baduil took flight.

She waited until they touched the other side to speak. “Finwion… If something happens to me, see to it that Baduil gets back to Orsas. Will you do that for me? I don’t know if I’ll be able to offer you a favor in return.”

“Child, nothing will happen to you here.” Nimphon gave her a concerned look but his attention was pulled away as Isca and Atos stepped into view, both were murky but the murk around Isca was darker than it had been before.

“I told you, Atos, she wasn’t off speaking to the dwarves, she ran to the elves.”

“Syreilla, this matter-”

“This matter should have been brought to me. She is a protector of gentle souls and she feels the crushing weight of the coming war. Syreilla the Rook has done as she should.”

“Rielle must be punished. I would have all who worship her feel the heat of my wrath.”

Atos squared his shoulders and Syr could see his hand brightening in the murk surrounding him. She was moving before she realized it, putting herself between Nimphon and the coming blow.

“Grandfather. This is wrong. You have to lis-”

She didn’t see the blow but she felt the air knocked from her and felt the embrace of the water as she struck it. It was as black and thick as it had looked and no amount of swimming seemed to help her move even as a flare of light briefly illuminated the water above her like smoky glass. Syreilla stopped moving and waited, summoning her wits. In Hevtos’ realm, there was no need for food or water, no need even to breathe, it was just a habit that she’d always kept. Bone White’s realm should be the same. She hoped.

Deliberately, she relaxed without taking a breath in. It felt odd but it didn’t burn. There was no urgency. Bringing her hands together and steepling her fingers in the still and silent liquid dark, she started to think. If all she could use were her wits, then she’d sharpen them as best she could. What would be the best way to escape this lake? When she got out of here, what could be done? What was likely to happen in her absence?

*Four*

Vezar felt the change. It was as if he’d been doused with frigid water. He grasped the threads that connected him to Syreilla and felt them pressed down tightly, almost as if they ended. The only way he knew they didn’t is that they were still taut.

“Grandfather.” The word came out as a rasp and then he found his voice, calling out in anguish, “GRANDFATHER!”

Trembling, he knelt, running his senses over the threads until Hevtos reached his side. “She… my treasure… something…”

Hevtos vanished. It felt like an eternity until he returned with Atos.

“Where is my Syreilla?”

“Isca…” Atos shook his head. “She convinced me that we needed to attack. Syreilla put herself between us and Nimphon. Isca…”

“She was knocked into the black waters. Do you have any sigil of hers? Has she made any sigil with her own hands? The sigil I created will not suffice to draw her back, the power of its creation must have come from her to be strong enough to pull her from the waters.”

“No…” Vezar bent his head to the floor. “My treasure…”

“She begged me to listen. The plans we were making felt like a crushing weight on the child’s chest.”

The sound of Atos’ voice as he admitted causing sweet Syreilla pain and being the reason she would never return to him ignited a rage like Vezar had never felt and he lifted his head, feeling his face and body contorting. Whatever words Hevtos was speaking in answer were no longer comprehensible, the blood rushed in his ears and the dragon’s roar of fury drowned out all else.

The walls around him wavered and buckled. Vezar found himself enveloped in them, shoved along until he was contained in his chamber, confined. The enraged dragon began destroying all that fell into his reach, shattering the marble of his floor with tail and claws, scoring the walls, and smashing the solemn statues he had created for his audience chamber until he came to his throne.

Syreilla. Syreilla had been pleased with it, it echoed her own throne. Crown and roots. Coming back to himself, Vezar leaned against the reaching roots. Gold was something she had never liked. She was the only golden treasure he ached for. When he made the attempt he found he could no longer alter his chamber as he pleased. He began rubbing furiously at the roots trying to rub the gold away and leave the roots bare.

The only gold in his chambers would be his Syreilla.

How long he rubbed at it he wasn’t certain but by the time a soft knock came at his chamber door, the throne had only thin ragged patches of gold clinging to the roots. He didn’t look up as the door opened.

“Leave me.”

“Vezar…” Zyulla’s pained voice made him look toward her.

His grandmother was surveying the wreckage of his audience chamber.

“Can Syreilla be-” He stopped himself as his voice broke.

“Her father is searching her chambers to see if she made a sigil.”

“I would know if she had.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Nimphon believes she has one.”

“She has a bird.”

“She told Finwion to return it to Orsas if something happened to her. Syreilla the Rook could see that something was going to happen. Her vision is clear but I don’t know how far she can see. If she was afraid that not even her family could be trusted, where would she have hidden a sigil?”

He shook his head. “Her bird went everywhere with her. It was a raven. Perhaps… perhaps it would-would…”

Zyulla came close and began to stroke his head. “We’ll find it.”

“Why would she… why would she think I could not be trusted?”

“Atos and Hevtos have spoken and chosen to become one once more. She was defending Nimphon from Atos. If she didn’t see who struck the blow and she glimpsed their reunification it would shake her. She might think that you would speak of it or give it over to the wrong person.”

“I would draw her back and bind her here with me.” Vezar pressed his face into one of the roots. “She would not leave my side again. I would endure her anger.”

The door to her audience chamber opened. “She doesn’t even have places to hide things! I thought I was on the right track by looking in her plant beds, her birds went mad, but there was nothing.”

“She’ll be furious…” Vezar felt his heart dropping to his belly and something inside him began to crack. “I’ll fix them.”

For a moment he thought that he would be denied the right to cross into her chamber. But then like fabric tearing, he left the raging parts of himself behind. Feeling ragged and incomplete, he donned one of the garments he wore to help her garden. The rooks calmed as he made his way to the destroyed garden and set to work, leaving Zyulla and Odos to speak quietly.

*Five*

“I’m not going back, Father.” Nali folded her arms and scowled. “I’ll go off on my own.”

“You’re barely thirty-five, Nali, you’re a child. After that ward you dropped on the boys I’m being told I can’t look after you anymore. Where did you learn that? It took them hours to get them out of the stone floor without harming them and now it has to be repaired.” Sirruil sighed and tried to look stern but she could tell he was a little proud of her, he always was when she surprised him.

“The scribes aren’t very careful with where they leave the copies of Grandmother’s spell tomes when they finish a day’s work. I’ve been reading them.”

He looked a great deal less pleased on hearing her explanation.

“I’ll be looking into that. Those books are worth more than all the gold in the mine and as dangerous as dragon’s fire.”

Baduil made a happy sound and Nali gave the old bird a grin.

“Why did you drop the ward on them? Learning them is one thing but using them in the mine is another. Even Lady Rook-“

“They kept calling Baduil ‘Badwill’ and they were calling me ‘Nali of Clan Featherbrain’! I made them stop.” She thrust her bearded chin up proudly.

Sirruil rubbed his hand over his mouth as if he were rubbing his beard but she knew he was hiding a smile. “You remind me so much of your grandmother. An entire family once fled Delver’s after they made fun of my brother’s ears and insulted her for being half elf.”

“I heard Uncle Oduil ask if my mother had been to Delver’s visiting before I was born and Lady Rook said she’d be more surprised if I wasn’t related to her than if I was.”

Her adopted father grinned. “That doesn’t surprise me, Nali.”

“Papa?” Raduil came in with a frown. “Juddri says Nali has to leave and go back to another mine?.”

“I’m not going back there.”

Razi, the woman who’d come to be almost like a mother to her in the twenty years she’d lived with Sirruil, came in looking as if she’d been crying. “Can you make her apologize?”

“It won’t be enough this time. Those wards are too dangerous, my love.” Sirruil took his wife under his arm and held her. “Baduil is going with her and Lady Rook won’t let anything happen to her. In a few years, she’ll be old enough to go where she pleases and we’ll still have a room for her.” He gave Nali a small smile. “It won’t be so bad, Clan Flinthewn has been asking for you to come back for a few years now. They’ll treat you better than they did, my Nali.”

Her heart ached, but she had told him again and again. She returned his smile as best she could. There was nothing more he could do, but she could do something. In secret, Nali started her preparations hoping she didn’t have to use them, hoping that maybe they would relent.

When word came a day later that she would be escorted back to Half Shaft mine the next day, she hoped she’d prepared enough, she’d barely had any time.

They had a last large dinner as a family, Sirruil served his mother’s favorite mead as a treat and after dinner, she made certain to give them all firm embraces. It would be years before she saw them again.

Once everyone had settled into their beds, Nali waited an hour for them to fall asleep before she rose and put on her father’s old clothes she’d altered for herself. Lady Rook’s golden feather was tucked down her front in a pocket made especially for it, like the one her father said his mother had used.

As quietly as she could, she snuck down to the cellar workroom and, using the tools he’d made for her and trained her with that lay in their place, she opened his chest of tools. She took the few familiar ones that she thought she might need and stowed them in the pockets she’d carefully sewn to hold them. Rising from her plundering, and leaving a note apologizing and promising to return them when she came back someday, she quietly closed the chest and turned to see him standing in the doorway. Wordlessly, he held out a pouch.

Taking it, it felt like money. Nali nodded and embraced him once more before slipping out.

Baduil flew along with her, helping her avoid other dwarves and slip out of Bhiraldur without being noticed, or so she hoped.

The raven came to perch on her shoulder as she made her way into the dark. Sticking to the roadway would probably be safe enough for now but in the daylight, she would need a safe place to sleep. Nali kept up a quick pace trying to put some distance between herself and the mine.

Making it to a walled crossroads town as dawn started to lighten the sky, she reached into the bag that Sirruil had given her to see if she had money to buy a ride with anyone who might be leaving that day. Her fingers touched a fine chain and her heart nearly stopped. She knew what was in the pouch along with the coins without needing to pull it out.

“He gave me the Eye,” Nali whispered to Baduil. “Why would he do that? They’ll come hunting for me.”

“Nali.” The bird croaked and she thought he sounded pleased.

She took a deep breath. “I suppose I could try to use it.”

The raven flew off of her shoulder and perched a distance away on a tree limb looking at her expectantly. She followed and moved out of sight of the city wall to try it on. The circlet fit, though the stone tingled strangely where it touched her head, and what had been dim morning gloaminess was now bright and clear. There was a faint haze, like smoke, around the walled city and she found that she didn’t like the look of it. Turning and looking around a faint blue path leapt out of the trees and she put her feet to it.

“I hope there’s a safe place to sleep on this path, Baduil.” She murmured mostly to herself. The path led her deeper into the woods and dropped down into a hollow protected space that might have been something’s den at some point. It didn’t smell like dead things but there were bones strewn on the floor among the leaves.

She hadn’t thought to bring a mat so she cleared a space as best she could and settled into sitting on the bare dirt. Nali had a small meal from the food she’d taken from the pantry before lying down and curling up. She was certain she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but it felt like only moments later that Baduil was gently prodding her back to wakefulness. It was brighter in the den now and she thought it might be midday. As good a time as any to have a bite and start out again, this time with Syreilla’s Eye leading the way.

*Six*

Kwes glanced at the elf with him and Eldil made a small gesture to wait. It didn’t seem like it was long ago that he could go anywhere he liked without having to worry about being murdered or worse for being a half-elf. Now, travel was far more dangerous. The other two elves with them hid so well in the trees that even he couldn’t see them.

A huge, elderly raven flew and landed just above his head, peering down at him curiously before croaking, “Nali.”

The old man might have stopped dropping in but it seemed he was still arranging things. Kwes nearly broke into laughter. The bird flew down and took a lower perch waiting as the dwarf came loudly stamping through the undergrowth. On his head was Syreilla’s Eye.

“The dwarf is alone,” Eldil murmured with surprise.

“Father likes to arrange things. That’s the dwarf we want, I’d bet you a bath and a hot meal.”

He leapt down as the dark-haired dwarf reached the raven and held up his hands as a small axe was produced in the blink of an eye.

“I mean you no harm, Master Dwarf. We-”

“That’s not a Master, Kwes.” Eldil dropped down with a smile. “That is a dwarf woman. Her beard is shorter and beaded. They rarely leave the mines.”

“Forgive me.” Putting on a rookish grin, he bowed. “You can tell I mean you no harm with that circlet. Syreilla’s Eye can see a great deal.”

“I see you’re a thief.” The dwarf eyed him warily.

“I’m a son of Odos. It’s in the blood, really, but compared to my sister, Syreilla the Rook, I’m barely any good at it.”

The axe lowered. “I met her once.”

“Did she give you anything?” He stepped forward as he asked and her axe came back up.

“Why?”

“Even if she didn’t, with the Eye, Nimphon can attempt to summon her,” Solchion spoke up from behind the stumpy creature and she spun in surprise.

“No one is taking the Eye!”

The dwarf looked frightened and the raven made a loud angry sound before croaking, “Nali!”

“You’re Nali? Is that Badwill-”

“Baduil. Ba-du-il.”

“Rookfriend. Yes. We don’t mean you any harm and if anyone steals from you, once we get my sister back, whoever did it will burn. She has very firm rules about that sort of thing. No one steals from hers.”

“What do you mean, once you get her back?”

“Have you tried to call for her? Did she give you anything to use to call for her? There’s a war going on, little one, and-”

“Never call a dwarf ‘little one’, Kwes.” Eldil gave him a look that suggested he was an idiot.

“She’s young!”

Ruinir dropped among them with a sharp gesture, “Quiet! We’re being hunted and they aren’t as far as I would like.”

Kwes took a deep breath and held up his hands, “My sister was… for lack of a quicker explanation, sealed away. To get her back, we need something she made, something that is intended to summon her. We have to call for her and pull her out of the place she is. Our father, Odos, went looking for a way and hasn’t come back.

“We came looking for you, she spoke of you-”

The dwarf put away her axe and began rummaging down her front. After a moment she pulled out a golden feather.

“This is what Lady Rook gave me. She told me to hold it and speak her name and she would come. She promised.”

The raven began to hop and dance. “Nali! Nali!”

“Silence that bird!” Ruinir drew an arrow within a breath and Kwes jumped between the elf and the raven as he loosed it.

The arrow buried itself in his thigh and Kwes bit his fist trying not to scream. The bird took flight.

“Syreilla the Rook!” The dwarf called out loudly and for a moment the only sound was someone crashing through the underbrush toward them and then…

“Oh, that air feels good.”

Syreilla had stepped out of nowhere behind him dripping thick black liquid and burst into flames. When the conflagration subsided she was standing as dry as a bone, dusting a black powder from her clothes.

“Nali, my dear one, why are you in the woods with elves, and who shot my brother with an arrow?”

She looked around at them all, tilting her head before turning her gaze on something past them and breaking into one of her terrifying smiles. “I’m in a bad mood, you can run or die horribly. Your choice.”

“Kill them all! Get their ears!”

Rook’s grin widened as she stretched and sauntered toward the charging men. Kwes dropped onto the ground next to Nali and winked at her.

“You don’t want to watch. Trust me.”

The elves crowded closer to them, weapons at the ready, as the screaming started. The raven circled and occasionally called out, resulting in more screams until there was nothing but silence and the smell of charred flesh that hung in the air.

“You’re welcome, by the way, Ruinir. You’d be the next one to burn if you’d killed her bird.” Kwes gave the elf a vicious grin, “She’ll be sour with you for the attempt but you might survive her anger this way.”

Syreilla came back, stroking the now young-looking raven, and when Ruinir stepped forward she made a gesture. He froze with a look of shock on his face. “No one fucks with mine with impunity.”

“Don’t kill him, Syreilla.” Kwes couldn’t help but smile at her. “He was afraid of those soldiers and we’ve all had a rough time of it.”

She gave the frozen elf a flat look and made another gesture. He collapsed to the ground gasping for air. “You’ve had your warning. If I were you I’d never point my weapon at another bird as long as I lived.”

“Yes, Lady Rook.” The two standing elves bowed low.

Kneeling, she placed a hand on Kwes’ thigh and he felt everything beneath it start to warm. Rook pulled out the arrow slowly, with impossibly little pain, and there was barely any blood that came out with it.

“You don’t need to speak a spell…” Eldil stared, awestruck.

“I used to. I’ve had a lot of time to think and learn to focus myself. When you can’t even distract yourself by breathing you find your mind becomes sharper.”

Ruinir shuddered as he slowly picked himself up. Kwes suspected the elf had felt very focused himself for a moment.

After standing and pulling him to his feet, Rook dropped back into an oddly birdlike crouch and studied Nali. “Why are you out here?”

“I ran away. They were going to make me go back to Draft Shaft and Clan Flinthewn. Father, Sirruil, gave me your Eye when I was sneaking out…” The dwarf seemed to blush, “He caught me as I borrowed some tools on my way out.”

Rook grinned. “You’re definitely one of mine. Why were they sending you back? Is Sirruil neglecting his duties? I think Orefinder was concerned about that.”

“No, I…” The dwarf glanced at them, “I dropped some wards on a few boys who were making fun of Baduil and me. They didn’t die!” Nali assured her hurriedly, “I used some of the nicer ones in Grandmother’s tomes.”

Syreilla fell over as she laughed and then grinned up at the girl. “That’s the Hammersworn temper, you know. Never cross a Hammersworn.”

Two of the elves disappeared into the trees, and Ruinir glanced around nervously. “It feels like we’re being watched.”

Syreilla tilted her head and then nodded. “I need the Eye, Nali. It goes back to Sirruil for now, I’ll do my best to keep you safe.” She took the circlet as the dwarf girl handed it over and gave it to the raven who vanished from sight soon after he took flight. It was moments later the raven flew back without it.

“Did Father ever find another for you, Magpie?”

“No.” Kwes squared his shoulders. “Syreilla, he disappeared. He went looking for a way to bring you back and-”

Her eyes flickered with flame and she held out her hand. “You have his sigil?”

“It doesn’t work anymore. I tried it.”

“Let me try it.”

He placed the coin in her hand and she turned it over with a faint smile. “He does love writing things, you should see his library if you haven’t yet, Magpie.” Her hand burst into flame. “Odos, son of Atos, come here.” The flames changed color and she made a curious sound.

“Father.” They changed again. “Old man, are you stuck?” She laughed and took the flaming coin in a wide circle. The flames remained hanging in the air and she reached through into the dark on the other side, grabbing hold of someone and pulling them through with a violent jerk.

The chains were still burning off of his wrists as Odos straightened himself up and shook the dust and remnants of the chain from himself.

“It took you long enough, Syreilla.”

“Nali, this is the old man. Did Sirruil tell you about him?”

“Great-grandfather?” The dwarf looked delighted, “He said I play Massacre as well as you do.”

Odos blinked and then broke into a smile. “How long have I been locked away?”

“I don’t know, how long has it been since my grandfather and the huntress dropped me in the black lake?”

“It was her, not him.” Odos raised his hand. “He was distraught. She’d persuaded him to attack Bone White but he had no intention of harming you. He tried to reach you and nearly sank into the water himself. Uncle pulled him from the lake with their stone.”

“He should have listened.”

“He regretted that he didn’t. Atos is no more.”

Rook studied him with a grim expression, “What happened? And more importantly, who do I need to go burn from memory?”

Their father relaxed into a smile, “No one, little rook. He became one with Hevtos again. Ahevhethrah.”

“That’s like my uncles’ names.”

A door opened and a man who looked like a taller, grimmer version of Odos with flames filling the place his eyes should be stepped through. “My dear one.” He placed a hand on Odos’ shoulder. “You found a way to pull her from the water?”

“She pulled me from the prison I’d been locked in, Father. The air was utterly dry of magic and it was sealed so that I could open no door and not even my sigil could draw me. I had to be pulled from it bodily.”

Kwes shivered as the greater god looked him over, and then those burning eyes settled on the dwarf girl. “This is the one Finwion and Nimphon spoke of.”

“My Nali, yes.”

Kwes glanced at his sister and found her studying Ahevhethrah, tilting her head much like a bird.

“You gave her a sigil?”

“I gave her a feather so that she could call me if she ever needed me.”