“But if that’s true, and the winds go this way, then…”
It was easy to follow her finger, and Kraghtol understood her well when she broke up, sobered.
“I’m sorry.”
If the wings he had built had carried the infamous inventor west from Winterstone, he would soon have crossed the border into the Wild Lands. The domain of the orcs, the realm of the savages. If he really had survived his flight, it was unlikely that his luck had continued after that. At least no one ever returned from there, save for the soldiers.
Dagna sniffled. It was hard to tell if she was crying or not, but when she spoke, her voice sounded defiant, not sad.
“So what! Maybe he died, but not before completing his great work! He invented aflying machine, for stone’s balls! I want to see any pump engineer dothat!”
Her eyes sparkled behind the goggles that still covered them.
“And I have his plans here. His work is not lost! Let’s get them to safety!”
Burying the stack of paper deep within a pocket, she stomped out of the room, and Kraghtol was about to follow, when he noticed something on the ground near the map reflecting the light of her lantern. When he picked it up, he realized it was a small golden monocle, which must have belonged to the previous owner of the workshop. Dagna would certainly be happy to have it, so he pocketed it and followed the shine of the lantern into the chaos outside.
He had to squint his eyes almost closed to protect them from the smoke and steam, and a constant hissing and splashing sound filled the tunnel, which he hadn’t heard on his way in. When he finally went around the corner, he stopped rooted. Waiting for him there, and already having apprehended Valir and Dagna, were a good dozen red-clad dwarves. The orderkeepers of Bronzebreak.
Chapter 14
Acquaintances
The interior of the local Guild of Peace wasn’t much more inviting than the one in Winterstone. The prison cells where the orderkeepers stoically escorted all of them were particularly uninviting to Kraghtol. Even though rooms carved out of rough stone were the usual architectural choice here in Bronzebreak, the large room that was divided by metal bars into small cells was not where he wanted to stay.
The only occasion the orderkeepers exchanged words with them was when they relieved them of all their possessions and stored them in a large chest that was within sight but out of reach. Valir complained loudly when they took his instrument, but Kraghtol felt cold sweat run down his neck as he watched the pitiful rest of Activator and the lockbox they had taken from Dagna disappear into the chest. Even though he still didn’t know what it contained, he was sure that the possession of those two items alone could get him into serious trouble.
Finally, the orderkeepers left them alone, without another word. They were alone in the room.
“Stars above. This place smells as if somethingdiedin here,” Valir complained as he sat down against the stone wall. From what Kraghtol could make out in the dim light, he didn’t seem particularly fazed. Or maybe he was just good at keeping up a façade.
“What’s going to happen to us? How deep is the dung heap we’re in?” Kraghtol asked, facing Dagna, who was nervously going up and down in the small space.
“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s possible we might have damaged a main pipeline with our explosion, perhaps forcing the whole alchemical foundry to shut down for a month or two. And we went into the inventor workshops, which was clearly forbidden. If the city council rides on their traditions trollshit, they might even find that more offensive than the pipe thing. Who are we kidding? They probably do.”
“Is it like in Winterstone here and that council will decide on a punishment without even seeing us?” Kraghtol asked, and Valir sighed.
“Sometimes I forget you come from some backwater village, and then you say things like that to remind me. Yes, that’s how it works in the civilized world. At least for you. Those of noble heritage have the right to be heard by a proper judge of the Guild of Peace before being convicted.”
“But that’s not fair!” Kraghtol protested. “Back in Mistpine, our orderkeeper Brynna always heard both sides before judging.”
He knew he was just reinforcing the picture Valir had painted about him, but the concept still didn’t agree with him one bit. It hadn’t doneso in Winterstone, and it was gnawing on him now as well. To his surprise, Valir nodded in agreement.
“Of course it’s not fair. I never liked it, even though it benefits me. It’s even worse than that once you see beyond the obvious unfairness. If I decide to, say, steal an apple, and get caught; even if I just admit I was bored or wanted to annoy the merchant, the worst that would happen to me would be some negligible fine. Probably not even that. If a hungry peasant does it, however, they won’t get away that easily. What is a financial annoyance at best for me is an amount of money peasants won’t be able to pay in a year. I trust you are familiar with the concept, although in your case the fine I paid was a bit more than an annoyance, even for me. It get’s worse, though.”
He paused and grimaced as his eyes went over the half-orc and the dwarf.
“The truth is, at least if I cooperate with the guild, I’ve got nothing to fear here. They will twist and turn the story until I am little more than a victim in it. I didn’t light the fuse, got held hostage and all that. To quarrel with one of the noble families is much too tiresome. Especially if there are easier victims readily available. They might even add kidnaping, seduction or something equally ridiculous to your guilt to lessen mine.”
Kraghtol was at a loss for words. It wasn’t as if he had not had these thoughts before, but when Valir spoke from experience, they had a whole different truth to them.That was just the way the world was. What an awful, helpless feeling.
Before he could ponder any longer on the subject, though, the door to their prison opened once more, letting in a grim-looking maledwarf accompanied by a weeping female one. They ignored Valir and Kraghtol entirely and went straight for Dagna and began talking to her in Dwarvish. Kraghtol didn’t understand what they said, but he could imagine it vividly. The visitors almost certainly were Dagna’s parents. And while her mother was having a breakdown about her daughter being in prison, the apparent father was searching for someone he could hold responsible. It wasn’t hard to guess whom he would decide on.
When they finally left, the father shot them a poisonous glare but didn’t say a word.
“My parents,” confirmed Dagna the unspoken assumption. She sounded tired. “They do not approve of my actions.”
“That much was obvious,” Valir said.
