All but Sefor, who frowned a little and leaned forward.
Finally, she nodded. "Very well. I'll talk to him about leaving the city."
"Today," the viscount insisted.
Sera drew a deep breath and studied the man carefully. "I could always have him say goodbye to you first."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I suppose…tomorrow is soon enough."
She smirked, pushed up from her seat, rolled her shoulders, and stretched languidly. Something graceful always seemed to define her—as if she was perpetually in perfect balance and could snap into action from any position. It was intimidating, and Micah couldn't help but feel a little jealous of how the woman was able to carry herself.
"You finish your yammering," she said. "I have a barbarian to find."
She left quickly and her sister realized that the gazes now turned to her once she was gone.
"And if he refuses to leave?" Benning asked and raised an eyebrow.
Svana snorted. "I suggest we wait to confirm his plans before we consider what options we have available to us." Her gaze shifted to the Marchioness Edenine, who had dark, almond-shaped eyes and tanned skin that perfectly matched her short black hair and delicate features. "The man is known to be influenced by the wiles of the flesh when other considerations fail."
The marchioness narrowed her eyes. "I thought you had a predilection for barbarian flesh. Why would you pass the duties on to me?"
Of course, Svana's dalliances with the barbarian were an ill-kept secret. She had helped to spread the word as the man's physical attributes were likely to intimidate any lesser men who might try to court her.
The fact that it was her secret to share showed when she grinned impishly at the other woman. "I do have a taste for the man but for the moment, I am still…recovering. Besides, he would see any wiles of mine coming from a great distance. Someone new who he does not know would be a finer tool for the work at hand."
The marchioness leaned back in her seat and nodded acquiescence.
It was interesting that none of the men at the table feigned any kind of outrage at the impropriety under discussion. When they were all behind closed doors, none of them cared to maintain the pretenses that governed their society.
Chapter Two
Skharr had only ever visited the outskirts of the Warren in the past and in reality, this was limited to Throk's forge. He had assumed, however, that the dwarves in the city had gathered in a small microcosm of their own.
They were notoriously fond of their own company, after all.
That said, he had no idea that the Warrens ran so deep under the city. What had been wide hallways had opened out and led deeper into the earth, carefully and lovingly crafted by skilled hands. They passed through a handful of water caverns, where he could see the water flowed clear and with no particular smell. This meant they had managed to tap a source from well below the city and far from the sewers and the swamps.
That alone was impressive. It was the type of productivity he had come to expect from the dwarves but it was one thing to hear of it and another to see it in action. He’d spent time with them before in their homelands and it was encouraging that they had retained these abilities so far from what they were familiar with.
Those who lived there had created a small city, complete with their own guards who patrolled through the Warrens. All studied Skharr like they were trying to evaluate him and decide whether he posed a threat to them or not.
He could still hear Brahgen complaining to the woman for a good ten minutes after she had dragged him by the ear ahead of the group that escorted their visitor. In his mind, it likely meant some complaining had been earned. Even so, from the way the guards paid more mind to the youth than to him, he had a feeling the young dwarf had earned the treatment he was receiving as well.
"I would say this is a city in its own right," he said as they continued to move through what could only be described as streets beneath Verenvan. A short while later, their path wound toward a massive cavern lit by hundreds of fires and thousands of torches.
"I'd heard rumors of the Dwarven City under the City," Skharr continued and looked around the massive chamber. "I never dreamed that it was under Verenvan. Or that it would be so…large."
"Verenth var Chrondagh is a closely held secret among my kin," the woman answered and diverted her attention from the young dwarf for a moment. "I am surprised you heard of it. I suppose the dwarves in the mountains talk a little too much."
"DeathEaters and dwarves have a close bond in the mountains," he answered. "And even then, it was when we were all drunk that they told stories none were meant to speak of. I can see why, as you have hidden it under one of the empire's largest port cities."
She laughed, grasped Brahgen by the neck, and dragged him to where he could see rich fortifications, all marked with AnvilForged's sigil carved into the stone.
"If you wait at the fountain over there, I'll tell Throkrag you have arrived to speak to him," she said and shoved the younger dwarf forward and through the doors.
The barbarian nodded, moved to the fountain, and studied a variety of markings in the stone. From what he could see, it looked like a story being told. Dwarves in full battle plate marched into combat and wound upward to the top of the fountain, where a carved dragon spewed the water that filled the fountain.
Perhaps it was a fictional battle against a dragon that was in the AnvilForged legends. It might not have been fictional, of course, but that was the most likely possibility.
"DeathEater! They told me that you were waiting for me out here."
He turned as a barrel-chested dwarf approached him. His eyes looked heavy and his steps weren't as sure as they usually were. Skharr was uncertain what to make of seeing him like this. There appeared to be something of a feast happening inside, and Throk motioned for the barbarian to join him at a nearby stone table where food and drink were being set out.
"I see fine stonework here," he noted as he sat across from the dwarf. "Your hands?"
"My grandfather's. He had a hand for stone, where my hand is mostly for metal. You know…I've been thinking of you lately. There aren’t many DeathEaters in this region of the world. The Clan knows my kind a little better and you appreciate us better than most humans."
"Perhaps because we've seen what dwarves are capable of in large numbers."
"Aye. Aye, I suppose that is true. But most humans would see one of our cities and have a mind to claim it and make it theirs, while The Clan simply see and admire it. I like that about you and your kin."
Skharr nodded. "That is appreciated."
"I had a dream, you know, and a human female entered my dream. She was beautiful, I suppose, if you have a preference for human females. Have you ever been with a dwarf woman?"
"I can't say I have. They don't like a human my size much."
"They wouldn't, come to think of it. But back to my tale. She was beautiful with rich black hair and dressed in flowing silks, she looked rather like a goddess, but not any I have ever heard of or seen."
"From what I've heard, there are numerous gods and goddesses who aren't too well-known."