Gronbach smiled. “I’m pleased you understand the situation so well. Take them to the yard. Have Kirn put shackles on. We’ll toss them back into the sea from whence they came. Better that way. Less mess, and if anyone asks, we can honestly say they drowned.”
The dwarfs hauled each of them toward the exit. Moya put up the best fight, kicking one of the two holding her to the ground and nearly getting clear of the other before she was grabbed again.
“Break their arms if they resist!” Gronbach shouted as he stood up on the edge of his box.
“You still have a problem,” Persephone shouted. “A big problem. A dragon problem.”
This caught Gronbach’s attention. “What? Did you say dragon?”
“I did.” Persephone was hauled toward the door. “In our fight against Balgargarath, Suri, apprentice of the Miralyith, created a dragon. It’s still in Neith and is just as formidable as Balgargarath.”
“You’re lying.”
“Send a runner. It’s easy to find. The dragon is right inside at the top of the stairs. It’s on guard there with the ninth of our party, Suri. The dragon does as she commands. Do you think we are so foolish, so naïve as to trust you and your ilk? If we don’t come back, Suri has orders to come down here with the dragon and find out why. I’m not sure you’d want that.”
The dwarf pulling on her stopped. Persephone didn’t think most Dherg understood Rhunic, but it appeared the majority of those in Caric—or at least those in that room—did, as with no comment from Gronbach, the efforts to force them out the door ceased. The dwarf holding Persephone still gripped her elbows, forcing them behind her back and keeping her off balance, but he no longer made any effort to drag her away.
Gronbach nodded to a dwarf near the door, who ran off.
The Master Crafter slowly sat back down. He looked at each of them, making a study of their faces before coming back to Persephone, whom he studied the longest.
Can’t tell if I’m bluffing, can you, little worm.
“Assuming there is a dragon,” Gronbach began, “what do you propose we do about it?”
“I’ll get rid of it for you. Destroy it.”
“In return for what?”
“For one—” Persephone jerked against the hands restraining her, then glared at Gronbach.
The Master Crafter nodded, and the hands let go.
Persephone took an irritated breath, rubbed the marks on her arms, and reclaimed a step back into the hall. “For one, you will not treat us poorly. In fact, I would say it’s in your best interest to provide us with the finest rooms, baths, food, and drink. Doing otherwise would make the dragon sad. You don’t want that.”
“Is that all?”
“No. We’ll require safe passage back to Tirre. A ship with a good crew and irrefutable orders to transport us safely.”
Gronbach pursed his lips and thought a moment. “The Calder Noll is scheduled to leave for Vernes soon, isn’t it?”
“At dusk tomorrow.” The answer came from behind Persephone.
“Will that do?” Gronbach asked.
“I also want them.” She pointed at Frost, Flood, and Rain, who were still being held. Rain had a dwarf on each arm and one with a hold around his neck.
This caught Gronbach by surprise. He shifted his gaze between the three dwarfs and Persephone with a puzzled look. “Why do you want them?”
“Do you really care? And if you give them to me…sending them into exile…we’ll leave this place. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“What about the swords you wanted? Aren’t you going to ask for them too?”
Persephone shook her head. “No. You won’t give them to me. Even if I threatened to lay waste to all of Caric with the dragon. It’s not a matter of stubbornness. It’s fear. And I can’t persuade you with one threat when you see the alternative as worse. You’re afraid the Fhrey will learn that you gave us weapons. And they terrify you more than a dragon in your house.”
“The elves nearly erased us,” Gronbach said. “They wanted to; they still do. Our only hope is to give them no cause.”
Persephone nodded. “I’ve heard that argument before.”
Rain spat on the floor and said something to Gronbach that made the mayor scowl.
“Do we have a deal?” Persephone asked.
“How will you get rid of this dragon?” Gronbach asked.
“The same way we got rid of Balgargarath. And in case you have any ideas about going back on your word again, you’ll face worse than a dragon. Betray me again, and I’ll wipe out all of Caric. You can kill the few of us, but if you do, you’ll sign the death warrant of every single person here. Understand?”
Gronbach nodded. “So you say.”
“Now, we will require one thing. To destroy the dragon, we’ll need a sword.”
“I’m told this one has her own sword.” Gronbach pointed at Moya.
“True, but to slay the dragon we need a special sword. It will have to be made. Show him the tablets, Brin.”
The girl was still being held and couldn’t move.
“Let them go,” Gronbach ordered with a frustrated groan.
Brin looked to Persephone.
“Show him,” she said.
Brin had used her breckon mor to make a sling for several of the Old One’s tablets. She unwrapped them and laid them out for Gronbach to see.
“We found these in the Agave,” Persephone explained. “On these stones are markings that tell how to make the sword that can kill these monsters. Brin and Roan will need access to metal and tools to forge such a sword.”
Brin’s brows rose in shock, but thankfully she held her tongue.
Equally fortunate, Gronbach wasn’t looking and didn’t notice. “These stones say how to forge a magic sword?”
“Yes,” Persephone said with an even tone and a blank face.
“What about the sword you used to destroy Balgargarath? Where is it?”
Persephone had expected the question. “Consumed along with the demon.”
“I see.” Gronbach peered at the tablet Brin held. His pink tongue licked his lower lip, causing the hair below to bristle upward. “Very well. You will give us this stone, and my smiths will forge the needed sword.”
Persephone was prepared for this, too. “It will do you no good. You can’t decipher it.”
“But I doubt”—Gronbach peered across the room—“this girl, Breen, and the other woman can wield a hammer well enough to forge a sword.”
“Her name is Brin.”
“I don’t care what her name is. She’s nothing more than a child, and she can’t swing a hammer!”
Persephone forced herself to wait before replying. She wanted to give the appearance that she was thinking the proposition over. Finally, just as Gronbach began to frown with impatience, she nodded. “You’re right. Roan and Brin will work with your smiths to create the sword.”
“Yes, that could be arranged.”
“Good,” Persephone said. “Tonight the sword will be made, and in the morning, we will return to Neith and destroy the dragon. Once it is dead, all of us, including Frost, Flood, and Rain, will board the ship and leave. Agreed?”