Draconnic Shenninagans - Episode 25

 Chapter Twenty Five: Traveling the Permanent Way

 "Well," the chief banged his mug down on the table, "You won't be going any where for a while so you might as well rest up. Looks like you've had quite the journey but that won't impress the Forge Lords unfortunately. They like to see everything shiny around them, sometimes you have to wonder..." He trailed off.

"Wonder what, my good sir?" Ulrich asked.

 "Oh, just an old wound and an old wrong," the chief shrugged, "Now the thing you have to remember about the Forge Lords is that they are not a monolithic force and they are not all of the same mind but the alliances and the fraction lines change from day to day. When you met them you are going to have to keep your eyes open and work out who are the ones you can work on. Get one or two of them on your side and then work on make the rest of them topple in the way you need them to go. First step for that is getting yourself cleaned up, the ablutions room is through there." He jabbed a finger at a door they hadn't noticed near the beds, the reason they hadn't noticed it was because it was made out of stone.

"An interesting choice of material," Jeremiah the first observed.

"What did you expect man from the world without a roof?" the chief asked, "We don't have those funny stiff weeds growing down here you know. We work with what we have and what we have is stone. We leave that wood stuff to those nambie-pambie high dwarfs."

Kaelin and Ulrich frowned at one another.

"Please forgive me if I speak out of turn," Ulrich hazarded, "But if you don't have wood then what was those really thick planks made out of in the tunnel back there?"

"Oh that stuff?" the chief gestured at one of his subordinates who came hurrying over with a book and a bottle of ink. Kaelin raised her eyebrows at the sight of the dwarfs pen, made as it was from metal and not the quill of a bird. "That comes from the fume spires, the big ones like that. Smaller stuff comes from the forge chimneys. Feeds and grows off the heat and fumes, you have to cut it back every now and then or it would clog up the vents. Its a nuisance most of the time but they now tell me that without it we won't be able to breath this far down, cleans the air or something like that. The small stuff pulps down well to make this stuff too." He turned over several pages. "Makes it a lot easier to store information in a small space. That is something you'll have to think about if you meet the Forge Lord's - some of them are really unhappy about 'the loss of the proper traditions of the dwarfish race'." He rolled his eyes, "As if being able to run fast with our knowledge is a bad thing. Some of the ones who..." He trailed off again, an internal editor telling him that he was about to say something it might be best not to. "Any ways, some who are dead would still be alive if they hadn't been weighed down with the traditional style of books and it is not like we are totally abandoning the Cuneiform and the knowledge that needs to be preserved for all eternity is being transferred to the permanent forms just in case."

"In case of what, my good dwarf," Jeremiah the first smiled.

"In case of fire, flood or earthquake," the chief looked up at him crossly, "Just 'cause we live down here doesn't mean that the ground is always still. Disasters have happened before and will happen again and these things," he flapped the book at Jeremiah the first, "Burn really well. Stone doesn't burn and it doesn't tear. You can't wash the words off of stone."

"But you can deface it with a chisel," Jeremiah the first smiled. A stunned silence fell across the room. Jeremiah the second groaned and put his face in his hands.

"Don't ever suggest that again," the chief said in a sickened voice, "The destruction of knowledge is the most foul thing a mind can conceive of. It is only after many years of discussion that the scholars decide what knowledge can be safely disposed of so that history is not damaged."

"You revere history then?" Jeremiah the first asked. Kaelin and Ulrich tensed. They recognized the look in Jeremiah's eyes.

"As any right thinking being does," the Chief glared at Jeremiah the first, "If you don't know where you came from you don't know where you are, if you don't know where you are then you don't know where you are going and if you don't know where you are going then you are probably going wrong. Now get on with you and wash up, I need to be able to think how I'm going to word this so the Forge Lords don't jump to the wrong conclusions." He cast a dark look at where Nanny Tatters stood with her skinless head drooping.

"Is there warm water?" Thorian asked.

"Why would you care?" the chief asked in surprise.

"It doesn't make me go grey and feel funny if I use warm water," Thorian admitted, "You also feel cleaner if you use warm water. Don't know why that is but it is."

"Well I never thought I see one of your kind wanting to have a wash," the chief admitted.

"I'm picking up bad habits," Thorian admitted with an utterly straight face, "Must be the company I'm keeping."

Ulrich laughed and stood up.

"Well you have us there, my green friend," he clapped his hand on Thorian's shoulder, "Come on people. Let us leave this good sir to his work and clean up like he suggests." He glances round to find that Peter the Centipede had climbed back up the wall and was now curled up in a spiral over the fireplace, apparently having found a patch of stone that was warmer than the rest. "Peter, you stay there and Marmaduke, stand over there." He pointed at the corner. The mismatched robot stomped over to the corner and took up position, all without lowering his hand, which was still raised as if he was going to start waving again at any moment. Ulrich shook his head.

Kaelin did admit that another wash after having to out run the rock fall and all the dust that had come of that did make her feel better, even if it was a strange wash. Instead of bath tubs in the cubicles, the dwarfs had a network of pipes that had levers and these rather strange ends to some of the pipes that looked like they had been punched full of tiny holes. Once the companions had worked out how to use the levers the strange ends to the pipes started pouring a warm sprinkle of water over those standing underneath them. Kaelin rather liked it, it was like standing out in a warm rain shower and all the muck went down the drains before it could come back to haunt her.

"I don't know about you," Ulrich noted as he opened his cubicle door in just his shirt and trousers, "But if we survive long enough to be stood down to an inactive status like Risgath has managed to be then I think I'm going to find someone who can recreate some of the stuff we have seen on our travels. There are some good ideas we've come across recently that I think could be well worth taking home."

He toweled his hair dry. 

"Yeah stuff like that hot water," Thorian nodded where he was sat on one of the benches, pulling on his boots, "I don't know how it appears in the pipes but I wouldn't mind having that at home. As I said, washing in the pond makes you ache, especially when the top has gone all white and hard. That and its a little off putting to hear the goats trying to spit after you have had a wash."

"My dear Thorian," Jeremiah the first smiled, "Do you really think your people would accept learning about how to do plumbing and hot water?"

"Yeah, good point," Thorian's ears drooped, "Its not fun being the smartest at home and the dumbest every where else."

"Cheer up big man," Ulrich nudged him with his elbow as he sat down beside him, "I doubt that we are going to be totally let off the hook. Look at Risgath, he's still working for the King, its just instead of having to journey every where he's holding the fort at Nether Wallop. If we get to hold a town like that, I'm sure that we can find somewhere we could make a hot bath house."

"A hot bath house?" Thorian asked with a frown.

"Yeap, that's what I want to make if we ever get out of this gig, or at least get stood down most of the time," Ulrich leaned back against the warm stone of the wall, "A hot bath house. Its something like a tavern but you don't have to worry about putting people up for the night, or about people getting drunk and smashing the place up. You have lots of rooms like this were people can wash up, have a long soak in a bath, have a rub down, that sort of thing. Maybe even a communal pool so people can just relax and chat. Maybe chilled wine and hot drinks depending on the room and the time of year. Fancy little snacks, that sort of finger food on offer. A proper high class place but open to all so everyone can enjoy. Tell you what, how would you like to work there with me?"

"Sounds good," Thorian admitted, "But I don't see what work I could do..."

"Guarding peoples stuff," Ulrich grinned, "You have to have these cubby holes for people to put their clothes in while they are in the bathing rooms, which means some light fingered so and so will want to pillage, whereas if there is a big, strong chap such as yourself standing there with a great knobbly club they'll be less inclined to pilfer."

"Now that sounds like the job for me," Thorian grinned, "Its a deal!"

"No ain't we jumping the gate a little," Jeremiah the first observed, "We are assuming that we are ever going to make it out of here alive. Do I have to remind you that right now we are buried goodness only knows how far down in a domain we hardly know anything about and we have no idea how to get back to the surface?"

"I think we have a better chance of getting out of here alive than we did with the Ash Elves," Kaelin stretched, "No offense meant." She nodded to Lady Zilvra's brothers. "Come to think of it, what are your names? We've been traveling this long together and we haven't bothered to ask what your names are."

"None taken," the eldest of the three inclined his head to her, "And I am Quenril Zaphruan. This is my brother Tasnar and our cousin Sabal Argith. And it is prudent to not share names until you are move sure of your allies. Indeed it is strange to us that you surface dwellers wear your names so openly among each other. Names give power, among us it is the custom to guard our names more closely."

"What an eminently sensible suggest," Jeremiah the first smiled at them but they dropped their eyelids to guard their expression against him. It seemed that though they admired those who were ruthless, they were also weary of them, unsure as to when they would turn on them. Kaelin guessed that although they admired ruthlessness, that betrayal itself was frowned upon.

Estella wandered passed yawning, her talismans chirruping sleepily as they flitted around her head. She pushed open the stone door and wandered out into the room, blinking owlishly.

"Go on with you," the chief said looking round, "Take the beds in column one and get some shut eye. You'll have a long journey tomorrow."

"Thank..." Estella looked like she was going to flip her whole head over with the last yawn, "You." She had her eyes closed before her head even touched the pillow. Kaelin was not much better. Ulrich frowned, wondering if it was such a good idea if all of them went to sleep at once.

"I'll keep an eye out," a voice said behind him. Ulrich turned his head. Jeremiah the second stood unobtrusively by the wall.

"I'll keep an eye out," he repeated.

"Don't you need some sleep as well," Ulrich asked quietly. Jeremiah the second shook his head.

"I'm a magical construct remember," there was a touch of sadness to his expression and it was a more genuine smile than any Jeremiah the first ever wore, "I have no more need of sleep than I do of eating. Such is the price of being created rather than born." He glanced at his creator, who was already snoring like a sawmill.

"Do you ever think of... replacing him, shall we say?" Ulrich asked quietly.

Jeremiah the second did seem to actually consider it but he shook his head.

"Even if it would not destroy me," he said, "The magic would not allow me to. That is the way of things - the reflection cannot damage the caster."

"Ah," Ulrich nodded.

"Shame," Thorian yawned, stretching out on the bed "You are a lot easier to get along with. Well night-night."

After another moment Ulrich laid down as well and drifted off to sleep.

Seeing as there was no natural light in the underground world, the companions could not tell if it was earlier or later when the runner, Barmek, returned with the message that the Forge Lords wanted to see them all, pets included. Strangely enough the chief didn't seem too concerned about hastening them on their way.

"You've time as long as you step it out to the station after after you've had breakfast," he said, "The joys of having the locomotives, no more shifts of having to stomp every where. Would have taken you three works shifts and four rest shifts to make it to the Forge Lords before we had the locomotives."

"Are these locomotives really that fast?" Jeremiah the second asked.

"What's the matter?" the chief asked, "Worried that you might explode?"

"I wasn't," Jeremiah the second admitted, "But now you put the thought into my head..."

The dwergs laughed.

"Don't worry, that's just one of the objections some came up with to argue against having the railways," the chief grinned, "That and it would make the dwergs soft to not have to travel every where by foot."

"What about the ones that said the noise would mean everyone would go mad from lack of sleep?" someone called over.

"Like the foundries weren't noisy enough for that already," the chief grunted.

"Or that the ash and smoke would make the sedum died and we'd all die choking to death?" someone else called.

"Like that stuff hasn't been growing even faster since they started feeding it the ash," the chief rolled his eyes, "Honestly, some people would like us all to live under a rock and go back to the days when we had to beat out every panel by hand. Come, have yah breakfast and then head on over to the station. Here, Handrun Steelfist, you guide them to the Forge Lords. Make sure they get there, okay? You know what kind of tricks can be played so keep your yes peeled."

"Yes sir, Chief Sir," the indicated dwerg saluted, "Take them to the Forge Lords and no other, understood sir."

Breakfast, although bland was plentiful and hot and while they finished up the chief put the final seal on the report he was sending to the Forge Lords and handed it to their designated guide.

"Come on Peter, Marmaduke, time to step it out," Ulrich called and the Centipede came scurrying towards him. Marmaduke however took a couple of steps forward and then clanked to a stand still, joints whirring as he obviously struggled to understand the instructions that Ulrich had just given him. Ulrich sighed as he settled on to Peter's back.

"Marmaduke," he said firmly, "Come and stand two paces behind my left shoulder. Stand there and then walk that distance away from me where ever I go until such time as I give you a different instruction."

Marmaduke, immediately straightened, its confusion at the ambiguous instructions vanishing. Here were instructions that it understood. Here were instructions that were clear and detailed. Here was something it understood. It marched over in good fashion and stood straight, or at least straight as it could, behind Ulrich's shoulder where it had been told to stand.

"Pugh, Hugh and Dibble," Jeremiah the first called sharply, "Form up. Nanny Tatters front and center."

The rather battered and some what stinky trio of dead Ash Elves straightened themselves up as Nanny Tatter's shifted round to in front of them, her stump tailed form seeming ungainly as well as disturbing to look at. The chief watched it was a frown.

"You know, if you would preserve them properly, you could make yourself a fair amount of money in the anatomical studies department of the academies," he said after a moment.

"That is a rather fascinating observation, my good sir," Jeremiah the first smiled. Ulrich frowned. It seemed to him that these dwarfs took the sight of Jeremiah's pets a little too calmly, almost as if...

The chief shrugged.

"Don't think anyone has ever had one that is just skinned before," he noted, "Could certainly help the healer students to be able to see how the living muscle works to have a model that can move about."

That definitely sounded ominous to Ulrich's ears but Jeremiah the first didn't seem to notice, his eye falling suddenly falling on Jeremiah the second where his doppelganger was trying to remain unobtrusive.

"You," he said coldly, "At the back."

Jeremiah the second ducked his head and scurried into the position assigned for him, one hand going up to still his version of Hat, who had started to buzz what sounded like something that was going to be less than polite. Jeremiah the first glared and Jeremiah the second cringed like he expected a blow.

Kaelin's mouth went flat and pinched looking, watching this display.

"Tell me, do you think that would count as self punishment?" she asked Thorian.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Thorian admitted.

"Well as I understand it," Kaelin explained, "Jeremiah the second is an exact and total copy of Jeremiah the first so if Jeremiah the first is being unkind to him would that count as self punishment?"

Thorian rubbed his chin.

"If I'm right 'bout what 'exact' means," he said slowly, thinking it through one step at a time, "Then the second Jerry isn't an 'exact' copy of the first Jerry. To start, he's got those wing things and for the second he's nicer than the first Jerry."

Jeremiah the first glared at them, blowtorch hot. The second Jerry ducked his head and lifted his hand to his mouth to half hide what expression he was wearing but his eyes tinkled at them for a second before he looked at the floor and schooled his expression into a blank before Jeremiah the first could look round and harangue him for displaying such individual emotion.

"Right, already are you?" Handrun called, distracting them from what could start a fight, "Now stick together, don't wander off and step it out. We have about half an hour to get to the train station and we are going to need to make sure we have time to sort the particulars when we get there. I don't want to have to chase you up gallery and down tunnel to make sure we're all there in time, so keep your eyes reeled in if you can." He turned and lead the way through the door way that lead out of the guardroom, thought the six foot thick wall of stone.

After a few moments, Kaelin managed an impressed whistle.

The city of the Deep Dwarfs was a sight to behold. The roof towered high about them, at least ten human sized storeys, held in place by massive square stone pillars that had been carved out of the living rocked as the cavern had been hollowed out. And they were not roughly carved, they had been finished and chiseled with geometric patterns that interlinked. Ulrich felt his mouth drop open as he realized that the sparks of light he could see in the inserts of the patterns were not chips of quartz or diamonds that had been inset into the rock but windows. The columns themselves had become part of the city, homes for the inhabitants that towered over the streets and walkways below, looking down from a height that even King Tatsuya would not have managed.

Never exposed to the light of the sun, the city glowed with a red tinted gleam that reminded Thorian of the fire place back home, a warm and comforting light that reminded him of long winter evenings watching the flames until the cobwebs filled his head and he couldn't tell where the dreams ended and waking life began. However, he doubted that he could have fallen asleep in this place. The very air throbbed with noise. It was even louder than a normal city that had been capped with a lid should have been. A clanking, banging cacophony bounced and trembled, assaulting the ears with a rhythmic beat that suggested that the city itself was a living entity, pulsing with a life made of metal, gears and fly wheels, a chuffing, puffing, gasping beast that lived on the smell of coal and heat and flying sparks. A great coughing hoot like nothing ever spoken from the throat of a flesh and blood beast battered through the air.

"Hey up," Handrun noted, "Shift change coming on. Best pick up the pace people, we don't want to be late for the locomotive."

"I don't mean any disrespect but are you sure that all of us are going to be able to ride on this locomotive?" Ulrich asked.

"Not on, in. You ride in a locomotive."

Ulrich's expression must have changed.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," Handrun grinned up at him, "You're in for a treat, surface dweller, a right treat."

While Ulrich was trying to think of an appropriate reply to that the rest of the group trailed along behind him as the streets filled up with dwergs, some of them heading in one direction, while others, hot, sweaty, smudged with dark dust and grease stumped along in the other direction. Thorian looked around and then quickened his pace to make sure he stayed close to their guild as some of the cleaner dwergs were watching him with narrowed eyes, the grubby ones seemed to be too tired to raise a fuss about him being there.

Jeremiah the first was also stunned by the sensory overload, although by a different concern.

"This place smells like someone set fire to an alchemists shop," he sniffed again.

"That would be the power source," Quenril explained, "It is the black rock known as coal and I will admit that it does have a very strong scent when it is burnt. We of the Snake Clan trade our silk wears in exchange for a supply of it as it is much easier to travel with, needing a smaller amount to create the same amount of heat as wood."

Ulrich kept only half an ear on this exchange while they walked, his eyes more busy with tracking the reactions they were gleaning from the crowds.

"They aren't afraid of Jeremiah's little pets," Kaelin muttered.

"Say again," Ulrich asked quietly, leaning towards her.

"They aren't afraid of Jeremiah's little pets," Kaelin repeated, "Watch them. They are puzzled when they first see them and then they are judgemental, craftsmen seeing the shoddy work of a pretentious child who thinks they are oh so clever but can barely make the first hurdle."

Ulrich frowned as he straightened, Peter grumbling about the shift in weight. Ulrich turned his head slowly, double checking for himself and discovered Kaelin was right, the dwergs were definitely not afraid of Jeremiah's little pets, more disapproving of them, as if they didn't come up to some standard that the dwergs were measuring by.

Ulrich frowned some more, wondering just what they had wandered into. If the dwergs were that used to seeing undead puppets wandering about then where were they finding their supplies of corpses? Yes, Zilvra's brothers were unconcerned about it but there again it was possible that this was another trade item they exchanged with the dwergs for supplies found deeper within the earth. Asking them about it however, might not be the most tactful idea ever.

"Tell me, good Handrun," he turned to their guide, "Why is it that our friend's little collection of... pets causes no concern among your people?"

"Oh they are a concern alright," Handrun grunted, "Like they are they are walking vectors for whatever horrible diseases they are carrying so part of convincing the Forge Lord's that you are not a threat to us will probably be agreeing to have them properly processed so they are hygienic."

"Hygienic?" Ulrich's eyebrows shot for his dark hair line, "Your only concern is that they could spread a disease as they are?"

"Yes," Handrun frowned now, "Is there another cause for concern with them?"

"Well... It's..." Ulrich floundered for a moment, "Where we come from it is considered to be an unnatural act to reanimate the dead and not leave them to their proper rest."

"You what?" Handrun wrinkled his nose, "What do you do with them then?"

"Well the dead are usually cremated or buried," Ulrich explained, "So that they don't spread disease or lure in a predator."

"And you just leave them there?" Handrun demanded as he stumped along. Ulrich was just glad that no one (and he knew who he was thinking of) had pointed out that though the dwerg was hurrying along, as he was taking two strides for everyone of theirs, they were having a very comfortable constitutional trip through the city.

"Well yes," Ulrich admitted.

"What a waste," Handrun sniffed. Ulrich coughed.

"Though," Handrun sniffed again, "I suppose you people might not have to worry about fire damp or dark damp up in the world without a roof."

"As I am not familiar with either of those terms I guess we do not," Ulrich agreed, "What are they?"

"It is were the breath of the stones has turned foul," Handrun explained, "You break into a new gallery in the rock and if you are unlucky the fire damp finds your lamp flame before you can get out of there."

"What happens then?" Ulrich asked, intrigued.

"If your lucky it drives a stone shard straight through your skull, rather like that one back there," Handrun jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Jeremiah the first's puppet that stumped along with a rock shard sticking out of its skull, courtesy of the rock fall they had out run the day before, "If you are unlucky it buries you alive, or mangles you in a different way."

"Not nice stuff then," Ulrich noted, wondering what sort of animal this fire damp stuff was and how vulnerable it was to something like a sword.

"Ah, dark damp is worse," Handrun noted, "That stuff doesn't give you any warning. The first thing you know is when the light from the candle goes out and they you have to hope you were pointed in the direction of the exit or you'll choke to death before you make it out."

"So fire damp and dark damp are types of gases," Ulrich heard the penny drop with a resounding clang.

"Yes, that's what I've been saying," Handrun nodded.

"I am sorry, my good sir," Ulrich inclined his head, "I thought you were describing some sort of animal that hides in the tunnels down here. So what do you do if you find a place where these gases have gathered?"

"It used to be some dare body that had more bravery than sense used to go in wearing heavy armor to try and set it off at a safe distance or plant the sedum to soak it up," Handrun shrugged, "We lost a lot of young people that way, which is why it is all the more frustrating that some of the Forge Lords bleat on about traditions being disregarded. They weren't the ones taking the risks for our so called great traditions."

"So what's changed?" Ulrich turned Peter's head to guide him down a new street after Handrun.

"Mostly Sinbar managed to find his way down to us," Handrun noted, "Still not sure how he managed that one. Granted its hard to be sure of his type as they are known for being a little flighty but he seems to be steady enough and as his work has meant that we are no longer losing our younger generation to the dangers of fire damp and dark damp, well I for one am glad he's here. We don't want another one, once was enough."

Ulrich opened his mouth to ask what Handrun was referring to but the dwerg turned and lead them through an arch way of stone. They stumped through the tunnel it lead to and then stepped out on to a wide area of stone. It was a long rectangular space, well light, that edged in a steep sided ditch that ran into a tunnel at either end of the open space. The ditch was deep and wide and had another wide open space on the other side. In its bottom was two sets of the sedum planks and metal...

"What do you call those metal strips, my good Handrun?" Ulrich asked.

"They are the rails," Handrun replied, "And I'd step back from the edge of the platform, please. We don't want any accidents, even if there wasn't a locomotive coming it is quiet a drop from up here to down there and it wouldn't do any good to your skulls. Now then..." He squinted at the other side of the ditch, where on the wall above some windows that seemed completely out of place, was a large white circle that had numbers evenly spaced around its outer edge. Nailed to the center of the circle there appeared to be two arrows that lacked their fletching, one of them shorter than the other. Kaelin frowned; she wasn't entirely sure but she thought that the point of the longer arrow was drifting round the edge of the circle.

"We're just in time for the 9:45," Handsrun nodded.

"For the what?" Ulrich asked.

"The 9:45 from Bearington," Handrun explained but they still didn't understand what he was talking about, "Now if you'd just take a seat, I'll go and sort out the particulars with the ticket office." He indicated the benches that were stood along the wall, only they weren't wooden benches carved instead straight out of the rock and solidly unmovable because of that. Jeremiah the first plonked down one any way and stretched his feet out in front of himself as the benches had been carved with only dwergs in mind. Jeremiah the second was too busy watching Handrun walk down the platform to a half window in the wall, where another dwerg, dressed in a fancier suit of armor, seat behind a counter. The two dwergs had a chat, during which Handrun looked back at them several times, obviously counting up how many there were to their party then money was exchanged, after which Handrun came back to them. He was clutching a handful of thin painted stone rectangles.

"Right," he started handing the stones out, "One green one each for all of us living ones so that should be nine of us. I'm sorry," he looked at Jeremiah the second, "But apparently magical constructs count as luggage so you'll need one of these." He handed him a red one. "Now for excess luggage you'll need two." He handed Ulrich two red ones, one marked with a big black L. "And you'll need four." He handed four red ones to Jeremiah, all of them marked with the black L. "We're in luck, the 9:45 is bringing through a van of Urodel and there should be room for your pets."

"So these have different meanings?" Ulrich asked, holding up the tickets.

"Plain red for luggage, marked for livestock," Handrun confirmed.

"So I take it that Marmaduke is riding as luggage," Ulrich guessed. His robot whirred its own comment.

"If it was better quality then we could have possibly bent the rules and allowed it its own seat but we don't do crude," Handrun was blunt about it.

"That is understandable," Ulrich held up a hand, "Just please bare in mind that I did not create him myself, he is spoils of war, claimed from a fallen foe."

"Yeah, I heard you say," Handrun looked closer at Marmaduke, "Was it the only one of its model?"

"There were others but unfortunately they were crushed when Nanny Tatters lair collapsed in on itself," Ulrich admitted, "I'd tired to claim a couple of the others but they were non-cooperative."

"Or rather you were unskilled in bringing them to heel," Jeremiah the first smiled, "Nobles are rarely practically minded. Skilled at sucking the commoners dry but not great at building anything themselves."

"Like the priests are any better?" Ulrich snapped, his tan face coloring. "No, wait, that was unfair. Most priests try and make sure wealth is distributed a little more evenly and they are also usually the healers and and doctors of their communities. What I should have said was 'like you,priest'?"

They glared at one another.

"Change the truth," Estella noted.

"What?" Ulrich didn't look away. He wasn't going to let Jeremiah win this one.

"Something my Uncle used to say," Estella observed, "If you don't like the truth, change it, don't shoot the messenger."

"What an eminently sensible suggestion, my dear," Jeremiah the first smiled at her, unconcerned by Ulrich's anger.

Estella turned her head, her smile eerie.

"I wonder how we could change your truth?" she asked, "Seeing as I was addressing you, not him."

That made Jeremiah the first color and his expression turn ugly. She continued to smile at him but the dark sludge sloshed in the bottom of her eyes, trailing an oily tear down her cheek. Jeremiah looked away, hunting for someone else to take his ire out on.

"Excuse me, my good sir," he waved a hand at Handrun, "What is the meaning of this? Why are my retainers expected to travel as luggage?"

"Because they are unsanitary," Handrun wrinkled his nose again, "Look at them. Retainers? I'm surprised they are retaining their own fluids right now. There is no way we are tolerating that on the seats."

Kaelin snorted, struggling not to laugh. Jeremiah rounded on her but then his head snapped towards the tunnel mouth to the left.

"What's up?" Thorian asked unconcerned, too busy watching a stream of other dwergs emerging from door ways on both sides of the platform.

A chuffing, puffing, huffing noise was echoing out of the tunnel mouth, growing in volume, a rattling, squeaking, squealing noise sounding through the air.

"I assume that is our mighty steed," Ulrich turned Peter to the edge of the platform.

"Sounds out of breath," Jeremiah observed.

As if it had heard him, something came barreling out of the tunnel mouth, robed in streamers of smoke and steam, hissing with pressure, massive wheels spinning as mechanical parts slid smoothly back and forth, long barrel, topped with a smoking, puffing chimney and trimmed in shiny brass. Thorian stood with his mouth flapped open as the two dwergs standing in the little open walled cab at the back of the... thing waved to him as they went passed. Coach after coach rolled passed them, only these weren't any coach that a horse could have pulled, being far too long and heavy, seeing as they were not only three times longer than any horse coach but also beaten out of metal.

"No wood," Ulrich noted.

"No wood," Kaelin agreed.

"Illuminium," Handrun explained, "Its a very soft metal so we don't usually bother with it but it is very light so it serves for the walls here and it does help with the cost of lighting the coaches as it is so reflective it doesn't take much to keep the walls shiny.

The... locomotive rolled to a smooth halt at the far end of the platform and the coaches stopped with hardly a bump.

"Right, luggage on first," Handrun gestured for them to follow him, "Then we'll find our seats. We'll probably have to take two compartments, seeing as most of you are a little wider than the people who typically travel."

Jeremiah was staring hard at the carriages before them, glaring up and down the length of their conveyance with distrust.

"Just what is this thing?" he asked.

"She's the..." Handrun walked a couple of paces and craned until he could see the engine, "Ah, I thought so, she's the Adamantium Piston. You're in luck - she's a smooth runner, one of the newer line. It will be interesting to see whether the new big end design helps smooth out the kinks."

Ulrich did not know what Handrun was talking about, the technical details flying six hundred feet above his head, but he knew what he saw and what he saw was...

"She's beautiful," his smile was beatified.

"Glad you like her," Handrun grinned behind his beard.

"Like her?" Ulrich asked, "Who could not like her? Those lines, that geometry, she's mathematics brought to life! She's... she's stunting. She's a... a goddess of machines."

"You really think so?" Handrun blinked.

"Look at her!" Ulrich waved his hand, "Is she not a living breathing being? There is power, there is life. There is a magic no wizard ever managed."

"I beg your pardon," Jeremiah the first heaved himself to his feet, "But what you just said is close to blasphemy. Something made by the hands of mortals cannot have a soul, there for it cannot be alive!"

"Trying telling that to the idiot who tried to damage Steel Rail," Handrun grinned, "She'd been banked down for the night, shouldn't have had any pressure in her pipes and they found his skull pan in the roof, embedded in the solid rock twenty feet up. Still there as far as I know. They show it to the new apprentices to drive it home that you don't get second chances with the live steam, though Steel Rail has never hurt someone who treats her with the right respect. She knows who her friends are and if she has the knowing then she must have a mind in there."

"That is impossible," Jeremiah the first argued, "It doesn't have a brain to house its mind."

"Neither does Thorian's bag but that still has a mind," Kaelin pointed out.

"We could be good friends one day," said bag spat, "If I liked being friends with people who have a tail for a face!"

"Come along tall man," Handrun grinned up at Ulrich, "She won't hang around all day."

"Yes, yes," Ulrich gave himself a little shake and turned away from the glory that was the locomotive. It vented a little, disappointed pip, making Jeremiah the first turn his head sharply.

"Speaking of machines," Handrun said as he lead the way to the opposite end of the train, "If we have a chance, would you mind me having a tinker with that one you call..."

"Marmaduke?" Ulrich asked, "I don't see why not.What did you have in mind?"

"I think there's one or two chances I can make to improve him," Handrun admitted, "And if I do really well on a project like that I could finally make it up a rank to craftsman. I do know that it is no disgrace to be a guardsman... but its no great honor either. The way I see if, you'd get  a more reliable servant and I'd get the leg up that I need to break through the glass ceiling."

"May I ask what you mean by 'glass ceiling'?" Ulrich asked as he dismounted so he could help the very shiny dressed train guards load Marmaduke into the windowless baggage wagon.

"A ceiling that shouldn't be there but is," Handrun explained as Ulrich guided Marmaduke, with a couple of false starts, into the corner, "If you have the talent, you are supposed to be able to make it up as high as your skills will take you but to do that you have to be able to spend the time to make your projects, you have to be able to afford to by the stuff you need to make said projects and if you are working ever shift you can to make the ends meet and help your folks out, well, then you try breaking though the ceiling above you."

"In other words you need to be able to pay for it or have a sponsor to get any higher," Ulrich nodded as the sliding door clanged shut on Marmaduke, "Understand you totally and if we have a chance, I'll help you out. We outsiders need to stitch together."

Handrun beamed as he lead them down to the second enclosed van at the back of the train. As the doors slide open broad, smooth white heads looked over the tops of their pens and ribbited.

"Now they are something new," Kaelin noted, "Don't think I've seen the like of them before."

"Urodel," Handrun stated, "They live in the water filled caves further to the west. We turn the skins into leather and they are not bad eating either."

"You don't do anything by halves," Ulrich noted, looking round the appointments as he settled Peter into one of the pens. Instead of the melee of a cattle truck, this was more like a mobile stables, with narrow individual stalls and even mangers, which, as the Urodel seemed to be omnivorous Peter was more than happy to help himself to.

Jeremiah the first hustled the three blue eyed Ash Elves into one stall and the Vigor heaved itself slowly into the second stall. Its back seemed to have been permanently altered by the weight of the pack it had been lugging around. After a moment's thought, Jeremiah reached up and lifted Hat off his miter and placed him on top of the pack. The Vigor managed a sound akin to a grunt.

Kaelin didn't hear what Jeremiah the first whispered to Hat but she could guess from the way Hat sunk down and buzzed worriedly.

"Just where do you think you are going?" Jeremiah the first demanded as he exited the live stock van.

Jeremiah the second flinched in the act of stepping into the baggage van and froze.

"I believed that I was to travel as baggage," he hesitated, "As I'm just a magical construct."

"Live stock," Jeremiah the first corrected, "You are live stock. Baggage is for things that are valued and carriages are for proper people."

Jeremiah the second bowed his head and shuffled down to the door of the live stock van.

"Is he always like that?" Handrun muttered to Kaelin.

"It's a good day," Kaelin murmured back.

"Oh boy, he must be fun to travel with," Handrun noted. It appeared that he wasn't the only one to think so as the guards, in their shiny breast plates, were frowning.

"Don't worry," Jeremiah the second managed a quirk of a smile, "He is over protective of his property. We know nothing will happen to it but I'll just act assurance." He shuffled into the stall, making the Vigor budge up, folding his wings tight and sitting down.

"We need some space from each other," Jeremiah the first agreed, "We'll be getting on like a house on fire soon."

"Guess who will be setting the fire?" Kaelin muttered to Ulrich.

"I would not take bet," Ulrich agreed.

"Well if that is how it is going to be," Handrun didn't seem a hundred percent happy about it, "We'd better get down to the carriages. It would be long before she's off." Indeed as they hurried down the platform a whistle blew and the shout of all abroad for the 9:45 from Bearington was bellowed down the platform. Having found two empty compartments the King's Special and their companions climbed on board, Estella and the Ash Elves in one compartment and the original crew in the second with their guide.

"Please mind the gap," Handrun reminded them as they boarded, "Packs in the over head racks, make sure they are tucked well back. We don't want any sudden droppings." They were just in time as seconds after they had closed the door a guard went walking down the platform, banging the doors of empty compartments shut. A shrill whistle from the end of the train, an answering shriek from the front and they were away.

Handrun tilted his head as there was a moment when the rhythm of the puffing speeded up for no apparent gain but then it settled back into its steady pattern and the carriage started moving forward.

"Wheel slip," he noted, "That was sloppy of them."

"They probably already... know..." Kaelin yawned expansively, draw her feet up on to the seat and her head drooped as her eyes slid shut. Handrun smiled as the view out of the window was replaced by the inky black of the tunnel. He was right about the metal walls though, a small candle in a carefully shielded lantern cast enough yellow light to read by.

"Takes quite a lot of people like that," he noted, "But I did think she slept better than that at the base."

"I think our friend Kaelin has lived on her nerves for many, many years," Ulrich noted, "I think she has been overdrawn at the sleep bank for many and many a year so now she's trying to catch up."

"Well, don't blame her then," Handrun nodded.

Outside the windows the tunnel ended and they went rocketing along a track cut into the cliff face of another cavern, this one full of houses, a small lake gleaming in the distance. Thorian and Ulrich craned towards the window, much to the appreciation of their guide and Jeremiah the first's annoyance.

The city had the wide streets of the previous cavern and buildings several storeys tall, their edges plumb line straight and their walls clean, light by lanterns on tall poles evenly spaced up and down the streets. The main thing that struck them was that the roofs were flat, used as extra rooms, outdoor spaces for families to gather in, decorated with crystal shapes and geometric patterns of tiles.

The view vanished as another tunnel swallowed the train.

The day seemed to go like that, just as they were fully entranced by the scene before them, it vanished as another tunnel loomed up. There were other caverns of houses and more of foundries, mighty smoke stacks crowned by massive growths of sedum, some in the process of being harvested, the air throbbing with the pulse of the mighty engines that drove this world of metal and stone. Sometimes they were above the level of the city (or was it cities? Or towns? Or villages? It was difficult to decide), sometimes below it, sometimes on a level.

Ulrich couldn't help but grin as they passed through the towns where what could only be dwarf children ran up to the fences to wave at the passing train. He waved back.

"Its the future," Handrun noted.

"What?" Ulrich asked, looking at him as they entered another tunnel.

"The future," Handrun repeated, "That's why people run to wave to the train. The train doesn't trundle into the future, she runs, she races, she looks at the future and charges towards it. There is a hope in that and that is why people wave to the train. The train is going somewhere and they want to run to the future just as fast."

Ulrich was trying to think of something to say to that when the tunnel ended and another cavern rolled into view. This one was the total opposite to the pleasant scene they had passed earlier, a glaring hellscape, bathed in unending red light and stark shadows, the lake of lava rippling, dwergs in extremely heavy armor dipping pots on the end of excessively long poles into the molten mixture of rock, apparently targeting patches of specific colors.

"Surge coming in," Handrun noted.

"You say what?" Thorian asked.

"Surge coming in," Handrun nodded to where a group of dwergs were hurrying across a flat, low lying head land that pushed out into the lava lake, "There's a channel between that headland and the cavern wall. You do not want to be caught out there when the surge comes in."

"Tides," Ulrich nodded, "Its like the tides on the sea, only this is lava instead of water. Do they ever threaten to over spill?"

"Not in several lifetimes," Handrun explained, "And we usually have some warning that the composition is changing and rising. We'd have to block off all the tunnels leading into the cavern and then try to make an exit point near the top to let it vent off safely. It would be a hell of a mess."

"Indeed it would be," Jeremiah grinned, "Tell me, does this 'venting off' ever reach the surface?"

"If it was that big of an up swell it would have to," Handrun admitted, "But we don't live in the places of convergence any more, those places are too risky, there are some pressures even we can't control."

"Including the pressure of hunger," Jeremiah noted sourly, "Tell me, when will our conveyance be stopping so we can prevail ourselves of some hospitality?"

"I'm not sure what you mean with all of those words," Handrun noted, "But this train isn't stopping on the way to Endingborough. The 9:45 from Bearington is an express train, she run all the way through to Endingborough non-stop."

Jeremiah the first glowered.

"If you had cared to inform us of this issue then I would have taken care to make provisions for the journey," he said coldly.

"Ah, I take it that the cost of the ticket does not cover refreshments," Ulrich observed.

"Oh if its food you are talking about," Handrun said, falling in as to what Jeremiah had been cackling on about, "Afraid not but the dining car does do a lovely range and the price isn't too bad." He stood up and slid the other compartment door open, revealing a narrow walk way that led down the length of the train, "If you want to follow me I'll make  sure that they know to cut back on the spices."

"Now that sounds much more hospitable than previous comments," Jeremiah the first hauled himself out of his seat to follow Handrun and... stuck in the passageway. After a moment he wiggled himself back into the compartment and tried again... and then again. The fourth time he seemed to find the angle that allowed him passage.

"Er, if you don't mind I think I'll stay here," Thorian noted, "I'm a little bigger than the people this place was designed for and I have some stuff in mah pack."

"If you don't mind pulling down mine as well please," Ulrich smiled, "I don't want to wake up our sleeping beauty just yet." He nodded sideways. In the course of their journey, Kaelin had slid forwards and her head was now resting against his arm.

"Better hope your Lady Zilvra doesn't see that," Thorian grinned as he stood up, rocking to balance himself against the roll of the train as he lifted down his pack, "I don't think she'd be too happy to see you like that."

"I'm just glad Kaelin trusts us enough to go to sleep while Jeremiah is about," Ulrich noted, "I don't think that she even realizes it yet but Kaelin definitely trusts us a lot more than she used to."

Thorian sniffed and sat down to open his pack.

"Seems to me that we're family," he said as he dug inside to find where he'd stowed the food, "She did tell that hairy great coward that she had a pack and it wasn't his. Suppose she meant us?" He handed Ulrich a slab of dark bread as well as some biltong, dried fruit and a piece of cheese.

"Then I'd be glad that she's come to trust us that much," Ulrich admitted, "I get the feeling that Kaelin has not had a good life and if we can off set that a little, then hopefully we'll get passed the King's judgement and maybe stood down from the very dangerous stuff."

"Yeah, that bathhouse thing you were talking about," Thorian grinned, "That would be cool."

They were still chatting about their ideas for the future when Jeremiah was squeezing himself back to them after lunch. He didn't seem to have such a good time of it, or perhaps it was something to do with the narrowness of the walkway. Ulrich looked at Handrun's face and saw a grin that was trying not to be too obvious.

"Did you enjoy you tour of the appointments of locomotive travel?" Ulrich asked innocently enough.

"The indignity of it," Jeremiah muttered as he plopped back down in his seat, folding his arms. Thorian and Ulrich looked at one another and with a grin looked out of the window to avoid laughing at him. One should not laugh at Jeremiah, after all you never knew where those hurt feelings could wind up crawling off to.

As the hours ticked by in the clicking of the track, Ulrich began to notice that the buildings outside the windows began to become richer looking and the amount of foundries and works decreased. As Kaelin started to stir and blink awake, Ulrich leaned once more towards the window. Now it wasn't just the public spaces that was carved and decorated. The houses themselves were carved and inlaid with semi precious stones, their gardens not just roof spaces but grounds around the house as well, spaces decorated with whole grottoes of crystals and statues carved out of precious gems.

"Wait what?" Kaelin asked still half asleep as he jerked away from her, nose pressed to the glass of the window. He couldn't answer straight away, mouth agape as he stared down into someone's garden when a statue of a honey comb geometric shape glowed in the lights directed at it, its shining surfaces appearing to be made out of ice.

"What's up?" Thorian frowned, wondering if they had danger coming.

The view disappeared as the locomotive entered another tunnel. Ulrich sat down on his seat, utterly stunned.

"A diamond," he said.

"Er what?" Thorian asked.

"There was a garden back there that had a statue carved out of diamond," Ulrich informed them, still blinking over the shock.

"How'd they stick them together?" Kaelin asked.

"They weren't stuck together," Ulrich said, still in shock.

"Er what do you...?" Thorian started.

"It was one single diamond," Ulrich stated, "It was a statue bigger and wider than me and it was carved out of one... single... diamond."

Even Jeremiah leaned forward to stare at him and then turned to look at Handrun.

"We're nearly there," Handrun nodded, "That would be the estate of the Bulbrims. They're an old family and pretty skilled as well. I would say that they have earned their place as Forge Lords. Their kids don't get fast tracked up the ranks either. Granted they have the money to be able to concentrate on their projects but they hold their children to the same standard as everyone else is."

"And how are you so sure of that?" Jeremiah smiled unpleasantly as the train started to slow down.

"There was a scandal a couple of years ago when it turned out that one of the boys had jacked more than half the project off on one of the servant girls, who was that desperate for her leg up in the world that she'd believed that they were business partners without it being carved in stone," Handrun was grimly amused, "When it came out, just how much of the work he hadn't done, well its said you could hear both his parents half way across the city. Talk about a public roasting. Last anyone heard, he'd been packed off to one of the boarder caves without a stipend. He's going to have to earn his way up the ranks this time, no help from mummy and daddy this time."

"Serves him right," Kaelin stated bluntly.

"Agreed with you there lassy," Handrun nodded.

"Ah but what sort of punishment did the servant girl receive for doing the work for him?" Jeremiah asked as the chuffing of the locomotive slowed down to a coast.

"She didn't," Handrun said coolly, "Last I'd heard she'd passed the artisan test and was driving her way through the training to become an engineer. Now that she has a proper sponsor she's doing well."

"Who...?" Ulrich started asking as the train coasted to a stop and then the obvious answer presented itself, "The boy's parents."

"Nailed it in one, tall man," Handrun smiled and winked before standing, "Now then." He strode between their seats to throw open the carriage door and jump down on the platform. "Welcome, visitors from a strange land. Welcome to Endingborough!"

They stepped down from the train and all of them wound up with their mouths open. The station at Bearington had been a reveal but that was merely utilitarian compared to this. Overhead a massive vaulted ceiling stretched like a forest of metal branches, metal branches that had a geometry no growing forest ever managed, held up at the edges by what seemed to be impossibly thin columns that revealed row rank after rank of berths for trains. Trains coming, trains going, hissing steam, puffing smoke, squeaking and squealing, creaking and groaning, whistling and wailing. Dwergs moved every where, in a hurry to get from one place to another, the purposeful stride of the railway employees making them stand out among the hustling crowd, their shiny armor more of a uniform or a badge of honor than a protective layer between them and the world.

"Isn't that something to see?" Handrun beamed.

"It sure is," Ulrich nodded, eyes finally coming down from the ceiling to gaze at the shuttling banks of locomotives, steaming and hissing and breathing their mechanical life into the air.

"Best we fetch the luggage," Handrun turned to lead them down the platform, "The timetable waits for no one."

They trailed after him, heads unable to resist turning round for just one more look. Marmaduke caused several comments as he stepped down from the baggage car.

"I do hope they don't expect to be placed in the competition with that thing," one gruff but well groomed dwerg said to his training companion as they walked past the group, "The things a total disgrace of workmanship. Even a human could do better than that."

"Oh don't tell me that you still believe in human tales," his traveling companion said, "Aren't you a little old for that nonsense?"

"Well seeing that..." the pair walked out of ear shot but the traveling companion turned round with a shocked expression plastered all over his face. Ulrich couldn't resist waving to him. Marmaduke copied the gestured and more surprisingly, stopped when Ulrich did. Peter rippled out of the animal cart, seemingly missing the tip of one of his antenna.

"I tried to stop it," Jeremiah the second whispered to Ulrich as Jeremiah the first commanded his pets out on to the stations stones, "But the silly thing would keep eyeing up the Urodel as a possible meal. One of the Urodel got in first."

"Well, if he was warned to not bother the neighbors and persisted with doing so then he only has his silly self to blame," Ulrich said amiably as he settled on to Peter's back. Jeremiah the second breathed out.

"I thought that you would understand but I wasn't sure," he said, "I some days worry that I am becoming a bother to the team."

"I don't think you are that," Ulrich reassured.

"Well maybe you do and maybe you don't," Jeremiah the second admitted, "But someone here definitely thinks of me as... as an issue." A slight jerk of his head sideways was all Ulrich needed to know who exactly Jeremiah the second was talking about. He nodded in commiseration.

"Oh, I managed to ask Handrun to get you one of these when he went to the dining car for drinks," Ulrich handed Jeremiah the second something, "It's a none spilling cup of tea. Nifty little idea isn't it."

Jeremiah the second looked at the cup with a slight frown and then his expression cleared as he realized what Ulrich had bought it for.

"A magical construct has no need for sustenance," he explained again, "But there again, maybe... with a little concentration..." His brows furrowed and the cup glowed for a moment. Jeremiah the second seemed to stand a little taller and his colors seemed more vivid as he smiled and handed the empty cup back to Ulrich with a thank you.

"Well," Ulrich raised his eyebrows, "Well you don't see that every day." When Handrun called he turned Peter and then realized something. Swinging off of Peter's back he stood up and gently took hold of the uninjured antennae. Peter whistled in protest but rippled alone beside his master after a moment.

"Just seems more polite," Ulrich replied to Thorian's questioning frown.

Making their way up the length of the platforms they passed through a massive arch way that made Thorian crane his neck.

"Pretty pictures," he noted, looking at the reliefs that climbed their way up the fluting of the arch and then all their jaws dropped open as they stepped into the main concourse. The ceiling arched like acre of stone floor than had been bowed and then inverted, held up on stout pillars that were bridged by impossibly low arches, grand stair cases leading up to the second storey that was thus created. In the center of the wide open space was a mechanical wonder - a huge bronze, two headed dragon that stood rampant, clutching in its claws a massive copy of the time device that had been at the station in Bearington, one head arched upwards so that the beam of light that shone from between those metal teeth illuminated one spot on the ceiling no matter where the dragon's other head was facing. Because it most definitely changed its facing, slowly turning on its pedestal.

"Oh my gosh," Kaelin was staring at the ceiling. It was a massive piece of art of inlaid precious stones, straight lines being lay over and over but some how off set so that straight lines formed a curve, formed circles, star bursts, waves, waterfalls.

Then Kaelin saw it.

The stunning pattern created the image of twelve great dwarfs, warhammers at rest in one hand and the other hand raised in greeting. It was literately breath taking.

"Nobody back home is ever going to believe this," she found that she was smiling despite everything.

"Didn't you ever see this before?" Ulrich asked Lady Zilvra's brothers.

"I have not," Quenril shook his head, "Indeed we never suspected that the... the..."

"Culture? Civilisation?" Ulrich suggested.

"Yes," Quenril admitted, "We never suspected that the culture of the dwergs was so advanced. We never had any hint that they were capable of something so incredible."

"And would you have left us alone if you knew?" Handrun asked as he lead the way up to the turning statue.

"I..." Quenril trailed off, obviously unable to admit the truth and uncomfortable with that.

"If that is your thinking," one of the other living Ash Elves, Sabal Kaelin thought, asked, "Then why are you allowing us to see so much of this now?"

"Because of what was found at the entrance to that one's den," Handrun nodded at the slack jawed body of Nanny Tatters as it amble along behind them, "That and unless the clan is in real trouble then there is no way you would be acting as guides to a bunch of surface dwellers. Something has really upset the crucible and seeing as we have had similar things happening down here then we know that we need to know exactly what is going on with you lot. That means the Forge Lords are going to need to see you. Speaking of let's get on. As much as I want to stay and goggle too, we really need to be getting on."

Kaelin looked down to see Handrun looking about, slowly so as to not attach attention but he was definitely looking for something.

"Trouble?" she asked quietly as they started stepping after him.

"Hopefully... oh bother," he sighed.

Marching towards them was a contingent of guards. Only these were not guards of the locomotives. Kaelin had noted that the armor of the locomotive guards was more like a uniform, like the costumes of the big city guilds or the frocks of school students, very shiny and neat but wouldn't provide much protection beyond the very basic. Locomotive guard armor was to say louder than words that here was someone who worked on the railway, here was a guardian of the locomotive, you wanted to travel on the iron rails? Then you gave these people the respect. These guards were not like that.

These guards could only distinguished as flesh and blood creatures, instead of constructs like Hartseer, by the large and tightly braided beards that cascaded down from under their helmets. Even their boots appeared to be made out of metal and they wore thick, spiky metal gauntlets that clutched massive battle picks that seemed to be almost bigger than their owners. This was some serious clang on display and people were already moving out of the way.

"Watch out," Handrun muttered to them, "We're about to get a serious case of agendaritis." Squaring his shoulders he stepped out to face down the on coming tide of metal. The guards came to a halt several paces in front of the group.

"We are to take the foreigners to the Forge Master," the voice that spoke from underneath the helmet was feminine but Thorian reckoned that this would not be the sort of dwarf to have at a football match. The others were more concerned about the fact that the guard made the title most definitely singular.

"With all due respect, I was ordered by my captain to escort these people to the Forge Masters," with firm respectfulness that had no room for diffidence Hardrun made the title the plural.

"The orders are to take them to the Forge Master," the guard repeated and Estella tensed as she realized the hands of the guards behind the speaker were tightening on the hefts of their weapons. This could get ugly. She put a hand on her bracelet, her talismans circling in a tighter spiral as they twittered.

"Those were not the orders I received," Handrun set his legs apart.

"The orders of a lowly egon kjol gevorgun does not concern the zat thjold of the Forge Master," the guard replied.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kaelin saw several of the crowd turn shocked expressions towards the guards. What ever they had just said it was obviously a taboo as well as an insult. The crowd swirled as consternated whispers radiated out and people, already giving the clang guards a wide berth pulled back even more.

Handrun drew a deep breath, clenching his fists and settling into a fighting stance.

"You dare to claim that ANY dwerg is not a true son of the Forge Lords?" his face was flushed with anger, "You dare to stand there and claim that any order from someone outside of his clan supersedes the command of the captain that serves his own clan? Are you not aware of the sacrilege you speak? Do you not remember the Epics that teach how the clans were broken and the six were banished from the true lands of the dwerg to grub in the cold stones of the mountains, calling themselves dwarfs and accepting the disrespect of the humans and elves? How does your tongue not turn black with the disgrace?"

Ulrich frowned as he was distracted for a moment. He could have sworn he heard music being played in the distance and not the thunder of the huge drums that you could expect from dwarfs, or dwergs as he must be careful to remember to call them. No, this was more like the high clear notes of flute almost silvery in texture. He turned his attention back to the beard measuring competition that was taking place in front of them.

"That would depend on whether or not said Captain serves a true clan," the guard replied coldly, "And not a clot of disgrace that cast aside their due diligence and respect for that which makes a dwerg a true son of the stone to be corrupted by the trinkets of the degradation that seeks to rot the zat thjold from within."

Handrun barked a string of deep dwarfish words that made several of the guards behind the leader shift slightly.

"That doesn't change anything," the leader didn't relent as Thorian looked round with a frown, trying to place what it was he could hear, "These... beings are to be taken to the Forge Lord." She seemed to be becoming more insistent and impatient, several of her people glancing around as well as it they too had heard an unwelcomed sound.

Kaelin unslung Haggis. If these people were bothered by music then she'd give them a show that they would never forget.

"My good sir," Ulrich stepped forward and bowed to the guards, "It does indeed seem that much trouble has been cause by our arrival in your land and I must give you our heartfelt regrets that this has been so. It was not our intention to give any disrespect to the glory of the dwerg and the true traditions of the zat thjold of stone. Indeed it was not our intention to visit your lands but ill fortune and the attention of the trickster gods of fate have driven us hither to your realm. Please, would it not be possible for our good guide and guardian on this amazing journey to accompany us to the Forge Lord who seeks to interview us first? In truth we would be more than appreciative if we are shown how we can earn what honor such as we can earn from serving the great glory that are the people of the dwerg."

Handrun blinked at Ulrich as if amazed that he had sort to calm the situation and even some of the guards shifted as if looking at one another.

"Since when has a non-person of the world without a roof known such words?" the leader asked, but the tone was more surprised than hostile.

"Since this lowly non-person has aspired to become a real person," Ulrich replied. Even as he said it he saw the crowd part and let someone through. He didn't turn his head to really look so he could only guess that said person was not a dwarf, he needed to be totally concentrated on the leader to pull this off.

Kaelin and Jeremiah the first however could turn their heads and have a proper look. The gnome that was stepping over the stones of the concourse was soberly dressed, almost severely compared to the normal fashion for his people, black trousers bound at the ankles above buckle shoes and a black cap-shoulder coat relieved only by a fluff of a white cravat at the throat. His fingers danced up and down the length of a silver flute.

"These people are to come with us to the Forge Lord!" the leader of the guards didn't quite shout and Ulrich had the distinct impression that she wanted them on their way before the gnome could get there to interfere.

"And my orders are to escort them to the Forge Lords," Handrun folded his arms, his anger fading as he too realize that help was on the way. Kaelin on the other hand wasn't sure as to the quality of the help they were about to receive as she saw what was following along behind the gnome.

They were skeletons, six of them to be precise, walking in lock step in two ranks of three behind the gnome, their bones black and shiny and chased in ribbons of a silvery metal that woven nets around the black ivory. Their skulls seemed to have been completely coated in the metal, etched with glyphs and with gems set in the eye sockets.

"Over done," Jeremiah the first snorted disdainfully.

The gnome walked up to their little confrontation without hesitation and let the flute drop from his lips with a final little trill.

"Well good afternoon my good guard captain," he smiled, "I do hope you don't mind me dropping by with the new produces, they needed to be run in and as I was heading this way the Forge Lords asked me to make sure that our visitors made it to Principal Mound without any mishap as the recent building work had rather disorganized the routes throughout the city and the guide the good Captain sent with our guests might not be totally familiar with the new thoroughfares. I trust that there is nothing amiss?"

"I was ordered to take these... people to the Forge Lord," the guard leader grunted.

"Well nothing can be simpler," the gnome smiled at him, "As the Forge Lord has been summoned to Principal Mound. Some misunderstanding about the misappropriation of information as I understand. I'm sure that it will amount to a baseless rumor and be cleared up by the time we arrive so there is no hurry but perhaps we should be turning our steps towards there to avoid any other unnecessary rumors beginning to circulate?"

"Yes sir," the guard leader gritted out from between clenched teeth.

"Now, I take it that these are our fascinating visitors," the gnome turned his smile to the group behind Handrun.

"You must be Sinbar," Kaelin folded her arms, not putting Haggis away, "What do you want?"

Ulrich smacked his face with his palm.

"That's not how you do it," he muttered, "That's not how you don't alienate powerful people the very first time you meet them." He sounded physically pained. Kaelin just shrugged, apparently unbothered by a potential social faux par. That or she was just totally bored by the beard measuring competition they had been witness to. Ulrich judged from her expression that it was the latter and suppressed the urge to groan.

The gnome on the other hand didn't seem bothered by Kaelin's lack of manners, instead it seemed to make him turn on the charm even harder.

"My dear Lady and fellow musician," he bowed deeply to her, "You have me at a disadvantage as I see that my reputation has preceded me. To what do I owe the pleasure of such a lustrous beauty being interested in a lowly necromancer such as myself?"

"Lustrous what?" Kaelin blinked and Jeremiah the first laughed.

"It seems my dear that you are going to have to accept the fact that we of the darker arts find you worthy of our attention," he beamed at her.

"And what if I told you I have a thing for short people?" Kaelin replied dead pan. Jeremiah the second struggled not to laugh, even in the face of the blow torch hot glare Jeremiah the first sent him.

"Is there any reason why we are cluttering up the grand concourse?" Sinbar asked the guard leader.

"Just a discussion about directions, Master Sinbar," the guard leader admitted.

"Then shall we be moving on?" Sinbar asked, "Though I have to say that I am impressed by this one." He took a walk around Nanny Tatters. "The workmanship is unfamiliar but not without its worth. Tell me how are you intending to preserve it against the decay that is setting in?"

"I have to admit that I have had very little time or ability to think of preserving them," Jeremiah the first admitted, "If nothing else I have not had access to the materials necessary for such an endeavor."

"Ah, that explains the..." Sinbar backed away from the trio of glowing eyed Ash Elves, waving a hand in front of his face, "I'm afraid there is pretty much nothing that can be done for these three save full on strip down and oiling. Even then I'm not sure that it won't have effected the bones."

"I suppose that will depend on the will of the Forge Lords," Jeremiah smiled rather sourly.

"Yes," agreed Ulrich, "I do think that we should not be keeping our elders and betters waiting any longer than we have to so shall we be moving on?"

"An eminently sensible suggestion," Sinbar agreed, "We can make our introductions on the way as this beautiful Lady has already introduced me to you." He lifted his pipe and trilled a snatch of song. His six black skeletons clicked into place in two columns of three behind him and started to follow him as they began drifting towards the exit, the guards with a lot of clang forming up around them after a moment of indecision.

"So tell me, Lady of Moonlight," Sinbar smiled up at her, "What is the name that you grace us common mortals with?"

"Just what have you been smoking?" Kaelin asked nonplussed, trying to figure out if Sinbar was trying to subtly let her know that he was aware of what she was.

"Please forgive our Lady of Moonlight her rather blunt manners," Ulrich managed to step in before he could see it becoming even more sour, "She has been under exposed to polite company and refined manners in recent years. These good Lady is Kaelin sans family and I am Ulrich Brekke."

"It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of you both," Sinbar bowed his head to both of them, "May it be that we will be able to spend a fair number of quiet afternoons in the presence of each other and partake of better company. If nothing else I am curious as to the timbre and range of that remarkable instrument that you carry, my lady, although I am assuming that it is for the production of music."

"Yes," Kaelin admitted carefully, one arm protectively over Haggis.

"Then perhaps a recital is in order," Sinbar suggested, "I have not had the chance to perform in a more intimate setting for a long time."

"Parp, puh," Haggis hesitated, without Kaelin's permission.

"It might be interesting," she said slowly, "But no funny stuff."

"My dear Lady," Sinbar held up his right hand and displayed the ring on his finger, "I am not one for temporary arrangements I assure you. And now, to the rest of your lovely company."

"The grand fellow in green is Thorian Vandervast," Ulrich introduced, "One who openly admits that he is not the sharpest tool in the draw but he is strong, dependable and tough. I know that the relations between his people and the dwergs have not been the greatest but he has been a true companion to us."

"Ease yourself over that concern," Sinbar reassured, "Though the dwergs distrust the orc kin it is to the same extent of distrust that they show all who are not dwerg. The orc kin and the dwerg do not have the long and storied history that the orc kin and the dwarfs share, seeing as the dwergs were deeper down when the orc kin decided to fight their way free of the Underworld."

"Ah," Ulrich smiled, "That is a relief to hear. I have to admit that I was wondering how come we haven't had more trouble for Thorian. I was being to wonder if it was being stored up ready for us."

"Rest your mind at ease," Sinbar stated, "You will be judge with equal prejudice."

"Like that's reassuring," Kaelin muttered.

"Would you prefer your companion being sentenced to death for simply existing?" Sinbar asked.

"Ok guess not," Kaelin admitted after a moments thought.

"The gentleman with the wings is Jeremiah Maat the good," Ulrich continued with the introductions, "And his wingless copy is Jeremiah Maat the first."

Jeremiah the first glowered at Ulrich. Introducing him, the creator, after the created. The sheer disrespect of it. He opened his mouth to correct this injustice.

"It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of a fellow necromancer," Jeremiah the second smiled, "I have to admit I am surprised you bare the title so openly."

That was it!

Before Sinbar could reply to the jumped up puppet, Jeremiah the first lifted his hand and gave Jeremiah the second just enough time to notice and flinch... Then he snapped his fingers.

With a squeak, Jeremiah the second popped out of existence, disintegrating into a cloud of sparking lights that cascaded to the floor where they faded and vanished.

"Just what the Grin-der-gap was that for?" Thorian demanded.

"When the puppet is given more concern than the puppeteer then it is time to redress the balance," Jeremaih said coldly.

"Oh gods," Ulrich sighed, putting a hand to his head, "Now I feel like mold. I should have remembered that just because we liked Jeremiah the second better, that someone wouldn't take the hint that it was a message that he should change his ways. No he'd rather take his ire out on the one that was showing him up than try and grow as a person."

Sinbar also seemed to be rather put out.

"Considering that he appeared to be the most well wrought out of all your creations," he noted, "I am surprised that he was the one that you choice to dismiss, rather than dispatching these rather unfortunate efforts." He gestured at the three glow eyed Ash Elves. "After all, the Forge Lord's appreciate good workmanship and I was under the impression that you wished to give a good impression to them. For myself, I am not sure I approve of the wanton destruction of minions."

"Minions who get above their station are fit only to be dismissed," Jeremiah said, "I have read the magnum opus of Michael Azrael and I heed the warnings that it contains. It is an embarrassing thing for a mighty wizard to be defeated by the very minions he created."

Sinbar frowned as if he half recognized the name Michael Azrael but he decided not to push it.

"You are a dangerous man, Jeremiah Maah," he noted, "And I for one will remember to be careful around you."

"And I have no issue with those who are properly respectful," Jeremiah smiled down on him.

"Indeed," Sinbar noted and turned back to Ulrich, "And who are the rest of your friends?"

"These are Quenril... and Tasnar with their cousin Sabal of the Snake Clan," Ulrich introduced the three living Ash Elves, remembering at the last second to not give their full names as Ash Elves did not give away their names easily.

"Noble beings I am sure," Sinbar bowed, "The Snake Clan is well known to me, as are items that you trade with my adopted home." The three Ash Elves inclined their heads, obviously considering whether or not they trusted the gnome before them.

"And lastly but certainly not leastly, we have Estella Blackwood, an explorer extraordinaire," Ulrich introduced the youngest member of the team.

"My word!" Sinbar beamed, "I apologize for not noticing you are once, Congming de Nushi. Pray forgive my ill manners, I should have recognized a fellow traveler from mine own country."

"It is perfectly fine, Siwang Dashi," she gave a courtly curtsy, her hands and fingers describing graceful paths through the air, before she straightened and skipped a step to catch up with the others who had walked on several paces, "Indeed I didn't ever expect to meet anyone from the land of my ancestors upon this journey. The Astral All Father does not encourage his children to wander far from their homes."

"And yet for some of us, he compels it," Sinbar noted, "The dear, dear land of my ancestors, it is a boiling pot that ever seems on the point of boiling over. Tell me, was it still as unstable as when I left?"

"It appears to be our nations curse to be ever on the point of flying apart at the seams," Estella noted, "And as always, it is the duty of the powerless to endure the fits and starts of fate."

"Because if we didn't the powerful wouldn't be able to control those fits and starts," Sinbar smiled ironically, "But let us not dwell on the troubles of the passed. Look instead to the future." He gestured wide with his arms as the group stepped out of the station through a massive set of double doors, big enough to permit a giant entry.

"Oh my word," Ulrich tried and failed to control his undignified gape.

"Welcome!" Sinbar grinned, "Welcome to Endingborough!"