of exquisite torture.
“Well, now what?”
Bal-Simba heaved his bulk up off the rock and picked up his wizard’s
staff. “That we shall know at the next full moon, Sparrow.”
“You sent for me, Uncle?”
King Tosig looked up sourly at the young dwarf standing in the door of his
study. His sister’s niece’s son was well-enough formed, with broad
shoulders and powerful limbs. His beard was long and thick, as a dwarf’s
beard should be, and his craggy features bore a hint of the dwarf king’s
own.
The face was fine. It was what was behind it that was the problem.
Instead of digging, making, hoarding and other normal dwarfish pursuits,
Glandurg’s mind was forever on other things. Where the average dwarf is an
intensely practical, rather unimaginative sort, Glandurg was a dreamer and
a romantic.
The young dwarf knew that there was more to life than the tunnels and
forges of his subterranean home. He just wasn’t sure what. Being young,
inexperienced and a romantic, he was convinced it was better than what was
here.
Worse, he had gathered a group of young dwarves about him and converted
them with his cockamamie chatter. They careened about the tunnels,
refusing to listen to their elders and engaging in all sorts of undwarvish
nonsense.
To Tosig, who was practical and unimaginative even for a dwarf, Glandurg
and his friends were a constant source of trouble. If such a thing were
possible Tosig would have suspected a taint of mortal blood in his
ancestry.
The dwarf king forced his face into an unaccustomed smile and gestured at
his visitor. “Come in, boy. And close the door behind you.”
“Uncle, I really am sorry about the sewage tunnel,” Glandurg began
breathlessly. “But the survey showed . . .”
The dwarf king reddened at the thought of the stope flooded when that
tunnel broke through, and his already perilous hold on his temper
weakened. As if a dwarf had to rely on a survey to know where he was
underground!
“Never mind that,” he cut his near-nephew off. “I have another job for you
and your friends.”
“It’s not another sewage tunnel, is it?” Glandurg began apprehensively.
“Because if it is . . .”
“No, this is something else. Something more suited to your talents. Oh sit
down, boy! Sit!” He shooed the young dwarf into a three-legged chair in
front of his desk.
Apprehensive at this unprecedented honor, Glandurg sank into the chair,
his eyes riveted on Tosig’s face.
“Now then,” said Tosig, composing his thoughts. “You know I had an embassy
from the trolls this evening?”
Glandurg nodded eagerly. “Three mighty kings of the trolls-or so it is
said.” His face fell. “I was on guard duty on the peaks.”
Tosig nodded. He did not mention he had given standing orders to keep
Glandurg out of the throne room during audiences.
“The trolls came asking a great favor and for reasons of state I have
decided to grant their request.”
Glandurg leaned forward expectantly.
“The trolls are threatened by a new wizard who has arisen among the
mortals. A wizard from beyond the World, bringing with him strange and
powerful magic. Our allies the trolls suffer cruelly under his influence
and they beg succor.”
He fixed his young relative with an eagle stare. “You are to be their
succor. I want you to gather a troop of hardy adventurers and kill the
human wizard with the new magic.”
Glandurg gulped. “You mean go Outside? Out into the World?”
“Well, you’re not going to find him in our tunnels are you?” Tosig
snapped.
“No, I mean, of course not, but . . .”
The dwarf king glared and the young dwarf trailed off. Glandurg was all
for adventure and travel, in the abstract. But now that he was facing the
possibility of leaving the tunnels where he had lived all his 184 years,
he discovered he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go.
“We’ll need supplies,” he said at last. “And gold.”
Tosig’s stomach flared again, but he nodded. “Anything you need. Within
reason, boy! Within reason. Now, how soon can you leave?”
“I don’t know. A week perhaps.”
Tosig nodded. “A week if you must, then. Sooner if you can. Our allies