I stood still and looked off into the wide open space of the chamber and marveled at such architecture while awaiting word from the grandmaster.

  It took a while, but the soldier returned and ran up to the officer and handed him a letter. The color drained from his face as he read, and he looked up at the young dwarf. “You saw him sign this?”

  “I did, captain.” The young dwarf replied.

  “Fall in line. “ He told him.

  “First Squad, honor guard. Form up around our honored brother.”

  He approached me and stated formally. “Forgive my reaction and words, honored brother. I am to escort you to the Grandmaster Conclave.”

  He stood at attention and looked at my chin, failing to meet my eyes as a sign of apology.

  I nodded my head. “There is nothing to forgive, captain. You were guarding our hall from hostile forces that wish to do harm to our cousins, kin, and elders. You acted properly, and I will report it as such to the Grandmaster Conclave.”

  He looked up at me in genuine surprise. And then he bowed to me, his long beard touching the stone floor. And that act of his, in turn, surprised me. It was a sign of deep respect shared between brothers. Not something a dwarf would idly do. It made an impact on his soldiers as well, who stood even more at attention beside us.

  We marched in silence except for the sound of the dwarven metal-shod boots and the rhythmic stomp of the poleaxes striking the ground every seven paces. Dwarves poked their heads out of side rooms and at intersections to see what the unusual marching signified. Seeing a human mage being so honored left more than one mouth hanging open as we passed.

  Honor guard indeed!

  I was brought before the grandmaster conclave, which turned out to be a long hall filled with stone tables and kegs of dwarven ale being drunk by very old-looking dwarves. I could hear laughter and noise from down the hallway, but as we drew near and they could hear the stomp, stomp, boom of the boots and poleaxes, the room drew silent. When I entered, not a dwarf was standing, and all eyes were turned to me.

  The captain stopped us near the middle of the room’s open center. He stood still and did not move.

  Grandmaster Copperheart rose and stated loudly. “Thank you, captain. You and your soldiers are dismissed.”

  All the guards struck the ground at the same moment with the hafts of their poleaxes, making a loud boom. The captain saluted, all smoothly turned around one hundred eighty degrees, and they departed.

  He whispered to me as he walked by. “Be cautious.” And kept walking as if he had not uttered a sound.

  After the soldiers had departed, the grandmaster approached me. Nodded at me, turned his back on me, and faced the room. He walked around me, making eye contact with the dwarves that, I just realized, surrounded me on all sides. And every one of them was armed.

  “Gwydion Istari Ringweaver, Dwarfkin and Dwarf Master, I introduce you to the Copper Mountains Grandmaster Conclave. Every dwarf in here is a grandmaster. Every dwarf in here once served on Master Council. And every dwarf in here, thanks you for your gift.”

  As one, they all rose, set their weapons upon the stone floor before me, and bowed.

  Gwydion, you must respond in kind. Summon your staff, lay it before you on the ground, and bow to them. Do not move until they speak to you.

  I did as Bella advised. I summoned my staff, laid it on the ground so that the gemstones were facing up and could be seen by all, and bowed at the waist.

  A long time passed, and finally a voice in the back called out. “My back hurts. Has honor been satisfied?”

  A double dozen voices hushed the voice, but a few others chuckled. Finally, one of the dwarves stood up and walked over to me. She grasped me by the shoulders and lifted me up. Literally. If I had not straightened, she would have picked me up bent over like I was an awkward barrel.

  “Get up, you wee dwarf-man. Honor is served. Let’s drink. I want to hear about the land of the humans and how you came to be here today.” She had a beard as long as any male dwarf and was more muscular than most. In fact, she had to be one of the youngest present, although giving her an exact age would be hard to do.

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  I retrieved my mage staff and followed her.

  “I am Garnat Barbender, the warden of the grandmaster conclave. Why?” She asked as we walked over to a nearby stone bench where she had been seated. “Because I beat every one of these gray-bearded whiners in armwrestling. A time-honored method to determine Dwarven dominance.”

  Several others made room for me to squeeze in. My knees were up too high, and I had to slide my legs under the table. It was awkward but not too uncomfortable.

  When I settled in across from her, she stated. “As an honored guest in our hall, it is your right to challenge admission to Council. It is a great honor and one not easily bestowed on any dwarf.”

  The noise started up again, but not as loud as I had heard from the hallway. I think others wanted to hear what I had to say.

  “What is the challenge?” I asked.

  She flexed her muscles. “Arm wrestle the warden, of course.”

  “Arm wrestle and win, or arm wrestle and survive?” I asked, noting that her arms were as thick as my leg muscles. And I don’t mean the lower calves.

  She hooted a laugh and took a drink. Others joined her.

  She stared at me. Hard.

  After a few moments, I said, “The offer is very tempting, Warden.”

  She nodded once.

  “What is the appropriate ritual response to convey my respect for the Warden, the Grandmaster Conclave, the Hold, and yet express the concern that such a contest would likely lead less to my arm being dislocated from its joints and more torn entirely from my body?”

  She hooted and barked another round of laughter. “The appropriate ritual response, young dwarf, is to say, ‘No thank you, Warden.”

  The room stilled as I stood. I looked her in her eyes and said in a deep and serious voice. “No thank you, Warden.”

  The room erupted in laughter, and more ale was passed around. They made sure to fill a mug placed before me to the very top.

  “Drink it down, and then we can talk.” She demanded.

  I did so. Based on the shake of their heads and beards, it was far too slow for their liking, but I did manage to finish it all. My eyes were watering so badly that I did not see the slap on my back by a dwarf beside me until it had me flattened on the tabletop.

  That brought about yet another round of cheers and laughter.

  When my eyes finally cleared, a new mug was before me, but it was just half full, and sitting across from me where the Warden had been seated was what had to be the oldest dwarf in the room, maybe even the oldest dwarf alive. He reminded me of Grandmaster Sage Harper, whose wrinkles had wrinkles. This dwarf’s beard was so long that it wrapped about his waist twice. And he was not a skinny fellow.

  He tapped the table with a long fingernail that made a distinctive clacking sound.

  The room grew silent again.

  “The day young Doric brought us the Archmaster’s lost tome will be a day spoken of in conclave for generations to come. Perhaps even centuries. We will celebrate the day on its anniversary with drinks and songs.”

  The Warden, who had moved a few seats down from where she had been seated, snorted. “Of course, we celebrate every day in the grandmaster conclave with drinks and songs, so that isn’t saying much.”

  There were a few chuckles and more sounds of tsking disapproval. I gathered that this happened a lot with this group.

  The eldest dwarf laughed, wheezed, and then started coughing. But he managed to say, “True enough. But we will start the day with a toast to this young dwarf,” he pointed to me, “the Archmaster, and then break into songs.”

  There was a clomping of mugs on the stone tabletops in approval of the grandmaster’s words. His name was Branrick Beastbrander, and with that generational name, I calculated that he had to be nearly three hundred years old.

  They had me tell stories of Keelwell and recent events. They wanted to hear about the battle with the Deathlight and necromancer, as well as the sneak attack, or rather the incursion, by the goblins. They all knew about the invasion and wondered what the humans would do to stop such an unstoppable force led by an infernal.

  The grandmasters were attentive listeners, but they offered no suggestion of assistance. There were a few offhand comments suggesting that the younger Master’s Council might be inclined to petition the king, but their body language hinted that they did not see much hope in that.

  I was to return with Doric to his home and rest the night. My arrival would not have gone unnoticed, and I could expect a letter or some response in the morning.

  But first, there was more drinking and singing. I was a reluctant, but active participant in both.

  It was an uncomfortable and short sleep. My mind worked overtime about what the response might be and how I would then argue needs and alliances. Of course, the extra-wide and soft bed was wonderful. It's unfortunate that it was a foot too short for my height.

  I was awakened in what passed for the morning underground by urgent knocking at the door. I had been summoned to an especially early audience with the king in the Welcoming Hall.

  “Others will be there as well,” Doric said as he encouraged me to move more quickly.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The entire Master’s Council and anyone who wishes to be, which, under the circumstances, could be the entire hold not on active duty. You must hurry!”

  I splashed water on my face, ran a comb through my hair, and dressed for battle- perhaps in both words and otherwise.

  It seemed like nothing was near each other in the Dwarven Hold. The place was enormous in both the size of its great halls and in the miles of tunnels that ran among them. It would take me a lifetime to learn all their ways, and I was utterly dependent on Grandmaster Copperheart.

  As we came to a large intersection, which I believe I recognized due to an unusual double swirl pattern in the veins of stone, the grandmaster stopped. “You will not be greeted warmly, and I apologize for this. They will criticize my decision and see your gift as a bid to gain access to our secrets, treasure, and help against the goblins. Voices have spoken out against both you and me, who are influential. Do what you can, say only the truth, but if things turn hostile, and they truly might become so, flee back here, and we will ensure your safe escape.”

  I noted the “we” and the chance he and others were taking on my behalf.

  Don’t worry, grandmaster,” I said with emphasis to remind him of my words from our meeting in my chambers. “I have a plan.”

  He shook his head. “Then I hope it is a very good plan.”

  I smiled. “Worry not, it is a terrible plan.”

  He smiled weakly and squeezed my shoulder. It was probably meant to be a gentle sign of support, but with the strength in those Dwarven fingers and his nervousness, I was pretty sure it would leave a bruise.

  I turned and faced the cross tunnels, took a deep breath, and walked into the Welcoming Hall with full understanding that I was one of the least welcomed guests to walk these ways in centuries.

  But you are not alone. Bella thought to me quietly.