“Hold up a minute.” Panax stood suddenly and walked over to them. “I think he’s speaking in the Dwarf tongue, a very old dialect, a kind of hybrid. Let me try.”
He spoke to the stranger, taking his time, trying out a few words, waiting for a response, then trying again. The stranger listened and finally replied. They went back and forth like this for several minutes before Panax turned back to his companions. “I’m getting some of it, but not all. Come over and stand with me. I think it’s all right.”
He went on talking with the stranger, Tamis staying close beside him, as Quentin, Kian, and Wye joined them.
“He says he’s a Rindge. His people live in villages at the foot of those mountains behind him. They’re native to this area, been here for centuries. They’re hunters, and he’s part of a hunting party that stumbled on us during the night.” He glanced at Tamis. “You were right. He’s not alone. There are other Rindge with him. I don’t know how many, but I’d guess they’re all around us.”
“Ask him if he’s seen anyone else besides us,” Tamis suggested.
Panax spoke a few words and listened to the other’s reply. “He says he hasn’t seen anyone. He wants to know what we’re doing here.”
There was another exchange. Panax told the Rindge they had come to search for a treasure in the ruins of the city. The Rindge grew animated, punctuating his words with gestures and grunts. He said there wasn’t any treasure, the city was very dangerous, and metal beasts would hunt them and fire would burn their eyes out. The city had eyes everywhere, and nothing came or went without being seen, except for the Rindge, who knew how to stay hidden.
Quentin and Tamis exchanged a quick glance. “How do the Rindge hide from the creepers?” she asked Panax.
The Dwarf repeated the question and listened intently to the answer. Confused, he made the Rindge repeat it. While they spoke, other Rindge appeared out of the trees, just faces at first in the dim light, then bodies, as well, materializing one after the other, ringing the little company. Quentin glanced around uneasily. They were vastly outnumbered and very much cut off from any chance of flight. He resisted the urge to put his hand on his sword; relying on weapons for help would be foolish.
Panax cleared his throat. “He says the Rindge are a part of the land and know how to disappear into it. Nothing can find them if they keep careful watch, even at the edges of the city. He says they never go into the ruins themselves. He wants to know why we did.”
Tamis laughed softly. “Good question. Ask him what it is they’re hunting.”
The Rindge, tall and rawboned, listened and nodded slowly as Panax spoke. Then he replied at length. The Dwarf waited until he was finished, and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not sure I’m getting all this. Maybe I’ve got it wrong. I almost hope I do. He says they’re hunting creepers, that they’re setting traps for them. Apparently the traps are to discourage the creepers from hunting them. He says the creepers harvest the Rindge for body parts, that they use pieces of the Rindge to make something called wronks. Wronks look like them and us, but are made of metal and human parts both. I can’t quite figure it out. The Rindge are pretty frightened of them, whatever they are. This one says that by taking pieces of you, the wronks steal your soul so that you can never really die.”
Tamis frowned. “What does that mean?”
Panax shook his head. He spoke to the Rindge again, then glanced at the Tracker and shrugged. “I can’t make it out.”
“Ask him who controls the wronks and the creepers and the fire,” she said.
“Ask him who lives under the city,” Quentin added.
Panax turned back to the Rindge and repeated the questions in the strange, harsh Dwarf dialect. The Rindge listened carefully. All about them, the other Rindge pressed close, exchanging hurried glances. The air was charged with fear and rage, and the Highlander could feel the tension in the air.