\hypertarget{chapter-56-knock-knock}{%
\section{Chapter 56: Knock Knock}\label{chapter-56-knock-knock}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``Best not to think too deeply, lest the dwarves take the
thought.''}

-- Mercantian saying
\end{quote}

The Mighty Kodrog had been granted a blanket to wear as a makeshift
skirt, because I was a merciful captor, but that failed to detract from
the fact that it still looked mostly dead. It'd tried to get up, after
waking, but the old Foundling response of
unpleasant-smile-and-knife-to-the-throat had put an end to that real
quick. Ivah had joined us without even need for summons, and spent the
last few moments conversing in Crepuscular with our latest addition.

``It is done, Queen,'' the drow said.

Informing it that `Lately Queen' wasn't actually my title had ended the
misunderstanding, though not soon enough Indrani hadn't made it part of
her vocabulary.

``It's willing to share all it knows?'' I asked, not hiding my surprise.

``That was not what we conversed of,'' Ivah said, silver eyes blinking.
``It is now agreed upon that the Mighty Kodrog is no longer so. It is
named Bogdan, ispe of the lowest rung. The Kodrog are no more.''

Wait, had they really been talking about this the entire time? Gods,
they quibbled about this stuff even more than Praesi did.

``Ispe,'' I repeated slowly. ``Is that higher or lower than rylleh?''

``Lowest of the Mighty, Queen,'' Ivah said.

Well, the silver in its eyes was full but it was admittedly quite dull.
I'd have to remember the terms, or see about getting a more
comprehensive list at some point. Feeling my way up the Everdark's
ladder one corpse at a time might take a while.

``Fine,'' I said. ``Then ask our friend Bogdan about the dwarves. What
does he know?''

Ivah spoke to the other in that strange, fluid tongue of theirs. It was
hard to read tone in Crepuscular -- I suspected even loud imprecations
would just roll off the tongue like honey -- but Bogdan's body language
was less difficult to get a feel of. It looked wary, but also less than
worried. Was it under the impression it could kill us all and escape if
it wanted to? My knife was no longer at its throat, but I could bury a
few inches of steel into its throat before it blinked. I'd gotten used
to my reputation helping things along, I mused, but it didn't mean much
down here.

``Bogdan requires the clothes of another and its pick of weapons before
entertaining such exchange,'' Ivah finally translated.

I eyed the Mighty Bogdan skeptically. It was kind of impressive it could
look this self-assured a full step into the grave, but my patience had
limits. I flicked a glance at Ivah.

``Ask it if it enjoys having all ten fingers,'' I calmly said. ``And
remind it doesn't need any of those to answer my questions.''

The drow slowly nodded, and passed that along. Bodgan's lips quirked at
an angle impossible in a human, as if its cheeks muscles were entirely
different from ours. It replied softly.

``Bogdan says all you attempt to inflict to them will be returned
tenfold,'' Ivah said.

``Will it now?'' I mused.

It was quicker than I'd thought. Bogdan had seen me set my knife back
into Pickler's clever little contraption, and it reached directly for
the hidden sheath. It was not quite quick enough I didn't catch its
wrist, though, and it was all downhill from there. There was no need for
a brawl: I just \emph{squeezed} and the bones broke. The drow paled in
pain and tried to roll away, but I put a thumb on its collarbone and
pressed. The sickening crack that followed was almost drowned out by its
scream. Almost. I dropped it back onto the ground.

``Ivah,'' I mildly said. ``Inform Bogdan that if I actually exerted
myself, I could punch through its ribcage and spine without so much as
scuffing my knuckles. Once that's been established, tell our friend it
has ten heartbeats to give me a reason not to do that. I'll begin the
count the moment you're done translating.''

My guide flinched and hurriedly spoke.

``One,'' I said.

Bogdan, eyes clouded with pain, looked at Ivah and then back to me.

``Two,'' I said.

Ah, fear. There was a familiar scent. The drow spoke urgently at my
translator.

``Bogdan is now willing to speak,'' Ivah drily said.

``Its wisdom truly has no bounds,'' I replied just as drily. ``Ask about
the dwarves.''

Back and forth they went, my guide going through what I presumed from
the length to be a comprehensive gauntlet of questions. Ivah suddenly
looked surprised, then spat to the side. It turned a trouble look
towards me.

``None who were Kodrog remain,'' it said. ``The nerezim were many, and
armed for war. They moved with slaughter for their purpose.''

``How many?'' I asked. ``Hundreds, thousands?''

``Bogdan knows not the whole number,'' Ivah said. ``Yet more than five
thousand struck those who were Kodrog, and before that ruin came there
was word that the Solya and the Mogrel were struck.''

My eyes narrowed.

``In sequence?'' I said. ``Or simultaneously?''

Ivah questioned the prisoner, receiving one word for answer.

``Same time,'' it replied.

``Those two names you said were sigils as well?'' I said.

``That is so,'' Ivah agreed.

``Stronger or weaker than the Kodrog?''

My translator shrugged.

``Not much weaker or stronger,'' it said. ``The outer rings do not often
spawn greatness.''

Assuming the dwarves had used the same amount of soldiers for each
sigil, and that the force that'd hit the Kodrog was not the same as
either of the other two, that meant around fifteen thousand dwarves.
\emph{Shit}. Archer was right, that didn't sound like an expedition gone
through the Gloom to empty a few mine shafts of precious metals and
gems.

``Does it know why the dwarves came?'' I frowned.

``The nerezim do not give reason,'' Ivah delicately said. ``Snake does
not reason with mouse.''

I sighed. Yeah, a monologue neatly informing me of why there was a
dwarven army marching into the depths of the Everdark had been a little
too much to hope for. Still, they could have dropped a smug yet cryptic
hint at least. Was that really too much to ask for?

``Does it know where they were headed, at least?'' I said.

Back and forth, one that lasted longer than I'd anticipated. Bogdan
might actually be of some real use then.

``Before Mighty Kodrog fled,'' Ivah said, ``it found that the nerezim
were headed north. And while in flight, found tracks of others that did
the same.''

``Towards the cities,'' I said. ``And the inner ring.''

My translator nodded silently. I drummed my fingers against my tigh. It
could be what they were after was in a ruined city, or even the inner
ring, and that was why they'd come with such a large host. The
opposition would be stronger and entrenched, further in. But what could
possibly be worth enough that sending at least fifteen thousand soldiers
into this mess became warranted? That was too large an army for simple
wealth, even if there was an old treasury buried somewhere. Artefacts,
maybe? It was an open secret that dwarves stole those, let a few decades
pass and traded them back to the surface as `wonders of dwarven
blacksmithing' after having slapped a fresh coat of paint over them.
Still, fielding an army this side wasn't cheap. I knew that
\emph{painfully} well. It would have to be a massively useful or
precious artefact. Not impossible, and it might even be that the pit of
snakes that was drow society had regressed enough it no longer knew how
to use said artefact -- which would make it even more tempting a prize.

That was worrying. Anything worth sending an army for would be dangerous
even in the hands of a bumbler, and the dwarves were hardly that.

``Ivah,'' I said. ``Do you know of anything important close to the
north? Old ruins, or a holy site?''

``The closest city is Great Lotow,'' the drow replied. ``Beyond it the
Hallian ways lead to Great Strycht and Great Mokosh.''

That gave me nothing. I knew one of those names, from -- wait,
\emph{Mokosh}?

``Great Mokosh,'' I said quietly. ``That's where you got your feathers,
isn't it?''

``That is so,'' Ivah said.

``And you mentioned the sigil there was granted by the Sve of Night
itself,'' I slowly continued. ``Is there a passage between it and Holy
Tvarigu?''

``It is rumoured,'' my guide admitted. ``Yet none but the Sukkla know
for certain, and they speak not of this.''

I might be going too deep with this one, since I doubted even fifteen
thousand dwarves would be able to get to the Priestess of Night, much
less killer. But there was a simpler explanation. Ivah had implied, when
we'd spoken of it, that dwarven incursions were infrequent and tended to
keep to the outskirts. Odds were that the method to pierce through the
Gloom either required time to take place, or a non-negligible amount of
resources to implement. Maybe it was wasn't \emph{an} artefact they were
after. How much easier for the Kingdom Under would it be to take
regulars bites out of the drow, if they had enough feathers to equip an
entire army?

``How many feathers are there in Mokosh?'' I said. ``Is the number a
secret?''

Ivah shook its head.

``It is holy duty, known to all,'' it said. ``At all times a thousand
coats must exist, every one taken to the Burning Lands replaced. Never
more or less.''

I frowned. Well, a thousand wasn't nothing. And they could use them
repeatedly, or try to make artefacts of their own that replicated the
effect. But my theory had taken a blow there, no two ways about it. It
could be a long-term investment, I told myself. Or I could be missing
key information.

``Does our friend Bogdan have anything else to say?'' I finally asked.

Ivah asked, and there was a quick exchange. My translator came out of it
looking conflicted, and smelling slightly of fear.

``Mighty Bogdan offers to serve as your guide in my place, after
harvesting the Night from my corpse,'' it said.

``How kind of it,'' I replied, rolling my eyes. ``There's no need to be
afraid, Ivah. We made a deal and I intend to uphold it.''

``Your kindness is great,'' it replied, bowing its head.

The fear was not wafting as strong, though it'd not disappeared
entirely. Drow had trust issues that would make even Praesi raise an
eyebrow. I rose to my feet, dusted off my shoulders. I'd come out of
this with more questions than answers, but at least there'd been
measurable progress. Hopefully Indrani would find something shedding
light on this mess, though I wouldn't count on it. It seemed likely we'd
have to head deeper into the tunnels blind to the designs at play. The
dwarves would likely clear the way, which was a mixed blessing. It'd
limit the fighting, but I couldn't ally with corpses. It was starting to
look like my best bet was to head to Tvarigu, where the Priestess of
Night would be waiting. If I could have stolen an army's worth of drow
without ever shaking hands with that particular devil I would have
preferred it, but choices were running even thinner than usual.

``Inform Bogdan it is to behave itself,'' I told Ivah. ``If not, I have
no qualms in doling out discipline as harsh as the situation requires.
Diabolist will have a look at the broken bones, but I'm not inclined to
offer too much comfort after that little interlude of ours.''

The drow bowed once more, and I left it to speak with the creature that
had once been Mighty Kodrog. Gods, so many names and changing too
quickly. That was going to be a pain to commit to memory. I'd have to go
through Archer's stuff and see if she had parchment and ink, it might
help to make a bloody list. I had the time to kill anyway, we weren't
going anywhere until she returned. Two hour later, she did. To my
surprise, she emerged from the same passage that had first led us into
this cavern.

The surprises that followed were a lot less pleasant.

---

Archer looked exhausted, more than I ever remembered seeing her. She
claimed a waterskin after dropping down on a vaguely flat stone, another
surprising turn. She'd yet to run out of booze, after all. Scarf hanging
loosely around her neck, she dropped her sweat-soaked leather coat to
the side and fanned herself vigorously enough she could only be making
the heat worse.

``Had to run,'' she got out.

I blinked in surprise. The tunnels had so far varied between cool and
outright cold. It'd take quite a bit to get her this sweaty.

``How long have you been running?'' I said.

``At least an hour,'' she grunted. ``And we'll need to get a move on
too.''

``You found something,'' Akua said.

``There's that famous Sahelian cleverness,'' Indrani replied. ``Sharp
eyes you got there. Or, well, soul bits that look like them. I'm still
unclear on the fundamentals of what you are, Wasteland Waste.''

``Even Masego was pretty vague,'' I said. ``You sound like an hourglass
just got flipped, Indrani. What did you find?''

She ceased drinking just long enough to pour the liquid all over head
sweat-drenched hair, sighing in pleasure.

``Right,'' she said, wiping her eyes clear, ``So I've got good news and
bad news.''

``Let's start with the good news, for once,'' I tried.

``The good news is that there's only one bit of bad news,'' she replied
with a winning smile.

Akua closed her eyes, looking physically pained.

``I cannot believe I fell for that,'' she muttered.

``What's the bad news, Archer?'' I sighed.

``I went looking for the dwarves ahead,'' she said. ``Didn't run into
them, but I found clearer tracks in one of the taverns. It's not
hundreds, Cat, I'd say they're numbering between four and five
thousand.''

``Our friend from earlier said as much,'' I told her. ``And mentioned
than another two sigils got hit around the same time. I'm considering
them a conservative fifteen, at the moment.''

``Shit,'' Indrani said, scattering her wet hair. ``Yeah, that makes
sense considering what I found. So the thing was, I came across a tunnel
going back towards the Gloom and it had a fresh trail on it. Oil spill,
still wet.''

``So you followed it,'' I said. ``You came back same way we came in.''

``That wasn't where the tunnel led,'' she grimly replied. ``Went
straight through another slaughterhouse, only this one had been cleaned
up. Neat piles of dead to the sides. Couldn't figure out why until I
went back all the way to the Gloom.''

``More are crossing,'' Diabolist quietly said.

``You might say that,'' Indrani grunted. ``Interesting aside, if you
were wondering how they go through the Gloom? Lamps, ladies. They're
going through in massive caravans carrying hundreds of them, like a
giant snake of light. Pretty sure that's where the oil was from, someone
must have spilled some.''

``You got close,'' I said, and it wasn't a question.

``Stone's throw,'' she admitted. ``Legged it when they started getting
suspicious, but then I came across another crossing.''

My fingers clenched.

``How many?''

``I found six,'' Indrani said. ``But that was maybe an hour's length of
distance, walking quiet. There could be hundreds for all I know.''

``You think this is an invasion,'' I said.

``I think the nice little corpse piles we keep finding were the
vanguard's work,'' she said. ``And now that a foothold's been secured,
the real army is coming through.''

``And that army's marching towards us as we speak,'' I finished.

Well\ldots{} fuck seemed to mild a curse, for once. Assuming all three
forces I was also assuming were five thousand each had crossed on a
single caravan each, just the six Indrani had come across would mean
thirty thousand.

``The lamps you saw,'' Akua said. ``What did the light look like?''

``Not like a candle,'' Indrani said. ``Sunlight, maybe? Whatever it was
it felt warm as the literal Hells and I would know -- I've visited a few
on training trips. Didn't work every time, though. One of the lamps
further in went dark just before I left a place, and what must have been
thousands in the distance just\ldots{} vanished. The dwarves weren't
happy about that.''

I wished I could say I was surprised Ranger had taken her pupils into
the Hells just to blood them, but it would have been a lie. She'd done
it with Arcadia, after all, and it was about as dangerous a place even
when invited.

``A detail of great importance, this,'' Diabolist said. ``The Gloom
seems to have properties related to the night, and so therefore the
classical element of the sun would be a natural foe.''

Wait, the godsdamned sun was a -- yeah, next time I saw Masego I was
definitely asking him for a list.

``This will be the result of an enchantment,'' Akua continued. ``And if
it is meant to last an entire crossing uninterrupted, the materials will
have to be symbolically linked to the concept. Brightwood would serve
well, but deteriorate too quickly. And is exceedingly rare besides. I
would hazard a guess that the frame of the lamps was gold?

``Wow, Akua,'' Indrani drawled. ``You sure did answer that question no
one was asking like a champion. You truly are the bag of uselessness
that keeps on giving.''

``No,'' I said. ``This is actually important, Archer. I know the dwarves
are the richest nation on Calernia, but even they have limits on how
much gold they can just whip out. You said the other material would
deteriorate, Akua. The gold too?''

``More slowly,'' she replied. ``A few days, if the enchantments were
laid very carefully. It should allow for a passage through the Gloom.''

``But not a return trip,'' I said.

``Not unless the fuel itself is inherently magical-''

``Which would make this the single most expensive invasion in the
history of Calernia,'' I noted. ``Though it might very well be
regardless.''

``-and that would add large costs to an already costly device,'' Akua
finished, sounding mildly irritated by my interruption. ``The lamps
would be extremely delicate work, the slightest mistake or corruption
making them useless. They would need to be constructed in a specialized
workshop, preferably in a magically neutral environment. Neither repairs
nor making of fresh replacements should be possible on this side of the
Gloom.''

``Still not seeing why this matters, even if you're right,'' Indrani
said, ruffling her scarf.

``Because even lesser artefacts don't grow on trees,'' I said.
``Particularly if they need \emph{gold} to work. They have to have a
limited quantity of those to draw from, and you said one of the tunnels
went dark anyway. There's risks of failure too. If it was that easy to
mount an invasion they would have done it ages ago. This is a massive
investment of resources, probably prepared over decades. They'll have
had to make a choice.''

``A larger number of troops to get across,'' Akua said, completing my
thought, ``or setting aside lamps to maintain supply lines.''

``Keeping the lines open means leaving soldiers behind to guard them,''
I said. ``Who need rations too, and the broader the area to guard the
more mouths there'd be to feed and the more soldiers taken from the main
force. And let's assume the crossing fails\ldots{} one time out of ten,
which seems on the low end to me. The price escalates the longer they
keep at this. It'd be more practical so send one large army through with
their own supplies, then let them live off the land until they got what
they came for.''

``They sent the vanguard to clear the way, so the larger army can
advance without wasting time on petty skirmishes,'' Indrani guessed.

``The sigils of the region were exterminated quite thoroughly,''
Diabolist noted. ``Suppressing word of the invasion was likely an
objective as well. It would allow the dwarves to penetrate deep into the
Everdark before organized resistance is mounted.''

``This is going to be a shitshow,'' Archer grimaced. ``Living off the
land \emph{here}? There's barely enough for the drow to live on. Even if
they manage to keep the ranks fed while they fight out there, they'll
have to march back through a place they stripped clean then risk the
crossings again.''

``Did you see any of them carrying unlit lamps across?'' Akua softly
asked.

Indrani's eyes narrowed. She shook her head. My fingers clenched.

``They don't intend to leave,'' I said, voicing everyone's thoughts.
``The army's here to destroy whatever causes the Gloom, and then the
rest of the Kingdom Under comes through to take the Everdark.''

And there we were, between the vanguard and the army. Well, I'd come
here expecting a magical journey and I had certainly gotten one.

Curses were magic too.
