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\hypertarget{chapter-59-audience}{%
\section{Chapter 59: Audience}\label{chapter-59-audience}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``Note: bottling up the power of friendship cannot be achieved by
bottling up friends. Must pursue further trials, perhaps prior
liquefaction diluted the substance.''}

-- Extract from the journal of Dread Emperor Malignant II
\end{quote}

So, runic trap. Just what my day had been needing. I ran a palm across
the transparent pane of force and found it solid. A sharp rap of the
knuckles told me it was probably breakable, if I exerted myself. This
wasn't a ward so much a magical pit trap, although one we'd strolled
right into.

``Cat,'' Indrani hissed. ``Now's a good time to do the Winter thing.''

Was it, though? The panes didn't mute sound, so I could hear the dwarves
running towards us. It was hard to tell their numbers, with all that
armour jostling, but I'd wager at least a hundred. I could most likely
shatter the back of the trap and leg it with the others back into the
tunnels. Except we'd have a dwarven company hot on our heels, the alarm
would spread and there was a non-negligible chance we'd end up in more
or less the same situation in half an hour, only with having attempted
to escape added to our first impression.

``We're going to talk to them,'' I finally said.

``Or you could open a godsdamned portal and get us out of here,''
Indrani said. ``Like, now.''

``To where?'' I said. ``Either we go blind, which seems like a
\emph{very bad idea} underground, or we go back. Where the army is.''

``Or we could stay in Arcadia for a bit, until they're gone,'' she said.

``The gate out would lead us back here,'' Diabolist said. ``I do not
believe it likely they will leave this place unguarded after the traps
were triggered.''

``Archer, they'll be curious enough about our presence they'll want to
interrogate us,'' I said. ``If it really does go to shit, I'll grab
everyone and leg it into Arcadia. But I want to \emph{try} to talk to
them first, at least.''

I caught movement form the corner of my eye, but it wasn't dwarves. The
drow accompanying us had gone still, when the runes shone, but the
conversation between the three of us had gotten their attention. We'd
been speaking Lower Miezan, so not even Ivah should be able to
understand us, but if they were guessing from the tones that might not
matters. One of the drow we'd caught on surface said something in
Crepuscular, addressing Ivah, who nodded and then turned silver eyes to
me.

``They would like weapons, Queen, since we are to fight,'' my guide said
in Chantant.

``We won't be fighting them,'' I replied in the same. ``I'm going to
speak with whoever leads them.''

``Nerezim do not negotiate, Queen,'' Ivah flatly said. ``They take what
they want and kill all in their way.''

``It is,'' I told the drow. ``I am queen of a kingdom, on the surface,
and powerful enough they will not seek my enmity for no reason.''

``This is not true of us,'' it said. ``We will be slain.''

``You're my prisoners,'' I said ``Until release or judgement, you are
under my protection.''

``They will not care,'' Ivah insisted.

``Ivah, you seem under the impression any you have a voice in this
decision,'' I said. ``You do not. It has been made.''

``They will not accept this,'' the drow warily said.

``They are free to contest my judgement, of course,'' I said. ``Though
the consequences of that have already been stated.''

Ivah grimaced and turned to speak, but before it could even do that the
Mighty Kodrog -- no, Bogdan now -- made its move. The drow pushed one of
its fellow prisoners away and reached for the longknife at Archer's hip.
Apparently after failing with me, it had come under the impression it
would have better luck with my companions. Archer gave him the knife, in
a manner of speaking. It was only a lending, though, and she clamly
withdrew it from the eye socket with a flick of the wrist. The other
drow stepped back. Great, now I was going to meet the dwarves with a
fucking corpse on the floor. Although, considering their record so far,
that might actually raise their opinion of us.

``Tell them this,'' I addressed Ivah. ``They can die now, or take a
chance on the future. There is no middle ground, and I've no more
attention to spare on this. Akua, if any of them tries to escape kill
it.''

``Any?'' Diabolist asked.

I met Ivah's eyes.

``Any,'' I confirmed.

My statement that I had no more attention to dole out had not been
theatrics: the dwarves were now close enough I could make out the
individual steps. They did not come from deeper inside the cavern. The
company of a hundred that spread out in front of the trap had been
posted near the outer wall, to the left of the tunnel's exit. Regulars
again, I noted, and since now the dance had come to end I finally spared
a moment to study dwarvenkind from up close. I'd pictured them as short,
stocky humans but evidently that'd been a failure of imagination. There
were basic similarities: eyes, nose, brow, lips. But they were the same
more in principle than practice. Their skin was so rough and craggy,
enough it looked more like some beast's rough hide. The old tale that
dwarves were born when a dwarf ate stones for a year and then spat out a
baby fully-formed came to mind. Their eyes were almost too large for
those thick faces, with coloured sclera and no irises. \emph{Owl-like},
I thought, though they had eyelashes. Their strands of hair were visibly
larger and thicker than a human's, their noses flat and broad. The
tallest of the lot stood at five feet, though they were much broader of
shoulder than any race I'd come across save orcs. The dwarves spread out
facing us, shields and hammers at the ready.

``Good evening,'' I smiled.

A few of them spoke in dwarvish, rough accents flowing back and forth
quickly, and there was a sparse wave of laughter. One of the dwarves
elbowed his way to the front, attired differently from the rest. The
armour was much like the one the engineers had worn, back in the other
cavern, a cuirass on leather. Said cuirass was covered with runes,
though, which I didn't remember the others being. The dwarf, sporting a
thick black beard thrice bound by rings of bronze showing runes of their
own, frowned at me and laid a bare palm on the transparent pane. His
frown deepened and he barked something in his language at the other
dwarves.

``I don't supposed you speak Lower Miezan,'' I said.

His eyes, a ring of deep gold around a pitch-black pupil, moved to my
face.

``You,'' he said in that very language, though the accent was nearly
unintelligible. ``Human.''

``Close enough,'' I agreed.

He pointed at the drow behind me, finger lingering on the corpse.

``\emph{Kraksun},'' he said. ``Why?''

``Prisoners,'' I said.

He turned back to the others and spoke again. One of the dwarves spoke
loudly and the entire company shook with laughter. I got the impression
that what he'd said was complimentary to neither humans nor drow.
Another dwarf, this one's beard russet, raised a baton of stone and
silence took hold. He spoke at the one wearing runes, who shrugged and
turned back to me.

``You,'' he said. ``Prisoner.''

``I want to talk with your leader,'' I said, enunciating slowly.

A dwarf left the ranks of the others, bearing a bag of woven reeds, and
dropped it to the side of my interlocutor. Who promptly opened it, and
took out a pair of rune-inscribed shackles. They weren't linked by
chains, I noted.

``Wear,'' the black-bearded dwarf said.

``I want to talk with your leader,'' I repeated, forcing patience.

The dwarf rolled his eyes, the size of those making it rather eerie to
behold, but he spoke to the one with the baton. Who replied with a
single word. Yeah, that one needed no translation. I sighed and rolled
my shoulders before plunging my hand through the pane of force and
ripping out a chunk. The black-bearded dwarf drew back in surprise, the
soldiers moved forward and I smiled once more.

``I want to talk with your leader,'' I said one last time, looking at
the russet-bearded one.

His eyes flicked at the trap I'd casually ripped open, then back to me.
He barked something at our interpreter.

``Who you?'' the dwarf asked.

``The Queen of Callow,'' I said.

The dwarf looked skeptical. He pointed a finger upwards.

``Callow,'' he repeated slowly.

``Yes,'' I said.

``Angry horse people,'' he said, even more skeptically.

Well, that was one way to describe us. His eyes dipped down to note what
I assumed to be my current lack of horse. What, did he just expect all
Callowans to be mounted at all times?

``Of which I am queen,'' I agreed.

He translated at the russet beard who snorted. He gestured a knock
against his temple, the meaning of which I felt safe assuming. Then he
shrugged and added something else. Blackbeard turned back to me.

``Speak to Herald,'' he said. ``But.''

He presented the shackles again. I mulled on that, eventually jutting a
thumb towards the people behind me.

``Mine,'' I said. ``Safe. No touch.''

The dwarf spat on the floor.

``No touch,'' he agreed. ``Herald choose.''

It was a start. I offered my wrists to the shackles, and the dwarf
leaned forward to clasp them closed. The runes -- nothing like those I
knew, sharper and much more complicated -- shone and I felt a binding
form. Ah, meant to seal sorcery. Or at least have an effect when someone
called on them. Were they assuming I was a mage? It was a flip of the
coin whether or not Winter would be affected by those. My ability to
call on it was uninhibited, so far. I looked back at my companions.

``Negotiations will proceed,'' I said. ``Cooperate.''

Archer looked quite displeased, but Diabolist simply nodded. She was the
first to come forward when the dwarf presented another pair of shackles,
sharing a meaningful look with me afterwards. They weren't affecting her
either, then. Good to know. The drow came forward one after another,
each of them moving delicately as if they feared the slightest sudden
move would get them killed. They might not be wrong about that, I
reflected. It had not escaped my notice than when the drow came forward
some of the soldiers discretely put up their crossbows. Indrani was the
last, and she shot me a glare.

``We could have legged it,'' she said in Kharsum.

``We still might,'' I replied in the same. ``Day's not over.''

She put forward her wrists, and with that last clasping we were all
officially prisoners. Blackbeard drew a circle on the transparent wall
then pressed his palm against the rune that formed inside it. It came
down without a sound. From the corner of my eye, I'd glimpsed Akua
watching him work eagerly. Never one to lose an opportunity, was she?
The soldiers swarmed us after that, though at least they put away their
weapons first. I was guided forward in a surprisingly gentle manner,
though I stopped when I heard Indrani raise her voice.

``No you don't,'' she hissed.

One of the dwarves was tugging at her bow, eyes half-closed. I looked
for Blackbeard was he'd melded into the crowd. Another dwarf raised his
hammer when Indrani pushed away the one trying to get at her bow,
speaking loudly. Every dwarf around us turned.

``Archer,'' I called out.

She turned to me.

``Cat, they want to take-''

``I know,'' I said. ``Let them.''

``You know they keep shit like this,'' she said. ``And the Lady will
\emph{kill} me if I lose it.''

``I'll get it back,'' I said. ``I promise.''

``You'd better,'' she growled.

Lips thinning in anger, she took out her bow and shoved it forcefully in
the dwarf's arms. The soldier almost toppled, looking furious, though
his companions laughed. Another one was eyeing the sword at my hip, so I
smiled blandly and took it out. Hammers rose again, but I presented it
by the hilt. The dwarf blinked, but took it anyway. If it'd been goblin
steel I might have felt a pang, but this was just a sliver of Winter. I
could recall it to my mantle at will, what did I care who held it? We
were taken deep into the cavern in a procession, surrounded by soldiers.
The vanguard, I saw, had made camp here. Tents of cloth that were
charmingly small dotted the place, while makeshift ramparts of piled
stones had been raised around siege engines and supply wagons. At the
centre of the camp I glimpsed a large dais of stone, a high seat upon
it. Anyone important enough to warrant that was worth talking with, I
mused. The first hiccup arrived when I was taken toward that dais but
the others were not. I stopped, to the displeasure of the dwarf
escorting me. I pointed at Akua.

``She comes with me,'' I said.

The dwarf made a face, blatantly not understanding a word I'd said and
rather displeased I was talking at all. He tugged at my wrist, but it
would take more than a pushy dwarf to move if I did not want to be
moved. My escort barked out in his language until Blackbeard returned.

``Why you not move,'' he asked impatiently.

I pointed at Akua again.

``She's coming with me,'' I said.

He shook his head.

``Prisoner,'' he said.

``She's my handmaiden,'' I lied.

The dwarf blinked, looking confused. Didn't know that word, huh?

``My herald,'' I said.

Blackbeard frowned.

``You human,'' he pointed out.

Was he implying no human could possibly be important to have a herald?
Good to know the High Lords had a superior even in matters of
bloody-minded arrogance.

``Human queen,'' I reminded him.

He still looked unconvinced, but must have decided arguing wasn't worth
the trouble. An order had Diabolist taken aside from the others and
brought to me.

``Your Majesty,'' Akua said, bowing to me.

Quick on the uptake, Diabolist. Sometimes in the wrong way, but there
was a reason I wanted her with me when speaking with whatever fancy
beard was in charge. We were escorted the rest of the way to the dais
without any further trouble. The seat was facing the other way, so it
was the dais itself that earned a second glance. Roughly hewn stone, and
I was pretty sure a single piece. Handhold were carved into the sides.
Had they carried this here? Lots of trouble for a seat. We were brought
in front of the high chair, where a full two hundred of those heavy
soldiers from earlier was waiting in silent stillness. The seat, I could
not help but notice, was empty. I glanced at Blackbeard.

``\ldots{} am I supposed to talk to the chair?'' I asked.

Big eyes stared me down without a word.

``That's a no, then,'' I muttered. ``I'll wait.''

Not long after the rows of soldiers parted for a pair of dwarves, which
seemed promising to me. The first was the tallest dwarf I'd seen so far,
and the first without any armour. He wore cloth, dyed a green so dark it
was nearly black, though I didn't recognize the style or the cut. It was
wrapped and knotted in layers over layers, heavy enough it might
actually slow an arrow. His beard was dyed as well, in the same colour,
and his eyes matched. The hair was black, though, long and braided. The
staff in his hand was crooked thing of wood with trinkets of some
strange metal hanging off the end, softly chiming as he walked. The
other was one of those Archer had called \emph{deed-seekers}, and his
chest was so thickly covered in skulls the armour could not be seen
beneath. Some of those were human, I noted, but most too large for that.
I even glimpsed dragonbone among the multitude, though that struck me as
the result of grave robbing rather than fighting. There were few dragons
left on Calernia, and the death of one would have resounded across the
continent. Blonde of beard and hair, his face was covered with either an
exceedingly thick black tattoo or pristine face paint. The shape was a
rat's head and fangs, though the horns sprouting out made it clear it
was not just \emph{any} ratling. The two of them came to stand before
the dais, though they did not touch it, and the deed-seeker cleared his
throat.

``Chantant?'' he asked in that same language.

I wiggled my palm.

``Lower Miezan?'' I tried.

The dwarf nodded.

``You stand before the Herald of the Deeps,'' he announced. ``Name
yourself.''

Akua replied without any need for prompting on my part.

``I introduce Her Majesty Catherine Foundling, Queen of Callow and
Sovereign of Moonless Nights,'' she said, sketching a bow.

The deed-seeker cocked his head to the side.

``I am Balasi, Seeker of Deeds,'' he said. ``I will translate for the
Herald. You may kneel.''

I smiled amicably.

``I do not kneel,'' I said. ``My attendant will do so out of respect.''

Akua elegantly did so under the emotionless eyes of the dwarves, rising
just as fluidly. Balasi turned a bronze gaze to Blackbeard, who still
stood at my side, and spoke in their language. The dwarf replied in
length, then paused and quickly tacked on something. The Herald's lips
quirked in amusement, Balasi laughed outright.

``I feel like I've heard that one before,'' I noted.

The deed-seeker inclined his head.

``Even a lizard can eat a tadpole,'' he said.

My brow rose.

``Guess you had to be there,'' I said.

Which I had been. I did not smile.

``It loses in the translation,'' Balasi said. ``The words\ldots{} even
an idiot can bully a dimwit?''

Ah, charming. We were going to get along great, I could just feel it.

``I take it the dimwits are the drow,'' I said.

``You have taken some of the \emph{kraksun} prisoner,'' he acknowledged.
``A matter of great hilarity to us.''

``I did notice you haven't bothered, so far,'' I said.

The dwarf bared his teeth.

``Only children pet vermin,'' he said.

About what I'd expected out of them, though it was still jarring to hear
it spoken out loud. The casual dismissal of an entire race as
pests\emph{. Not that the drow are any better}, I thought. There was
little difference between cattle and vermin, when it came down to it.
The Herald spoke softly, addressing his translator, who then turned to
us.

``His Eminence would know why you have come to the Everdark,'' he said.

My instinct was to answer, to establish some kind of relationship, but
this was diplomacy and not an evening at the tavern. If I fielded all
the questions myself, I was implying myself to be on the same level as
the Herald's translator. Which was something I needed to avoid, if I
wanted to be considered an interlocutor and not a curiosity. I held my
tongue and let Diabolist speak in my stead. It was, after all, why she
was here.

``Her Majesty sought to raise an army of drow to war against her enemies
on the surface,'' Akua said. ``We were unaware that the Kingdom Under
intended to invade when we began our journey.''

``You are aware now,'' Balasi said. ``You will be allowed to depart
unmolested. Your prisoners will remain, as they may know useful
information.''

``A decision perhaps premature,'' Akua replied. ``It seems our interests
may have fallen in alignment.''

The deed-seeker fixed her with a steady look.

``Callow intends to meddle in the affairs of the Kingdom Under?'' he
said, very mildly.

``Callow is willing to pursue its interest so long as they do not
contradict those of the King Under the Mountain,'' she smoothly replied.
``We would consult with you to ensure such an unfortunate turn of events
will not come to be.''

``You're not human,'' Balasi thoughtfully said. ``Some sort of spirit,
bound in service. The kingdom you claim to come from is not known for
such pacts.''

``The world ever changes, Seeker Balasi,'' Akua smiled. ``New eras
demand new methods, lest we be left in the dust.''

``You're a long way from home, Callowans,'' the dwarf said. ``Stumbling
into matters beyond your understanding. To presume to even speak of them
is a dangerous kind of arrogance.''

``You are correct, Seeker,'' the shade said. ``We \emph{are} a long way
from home. With little love for those who dwell here, and a mind open to
fresh opportunities. It would be a sad thing to turn a blind eye to
mutual profits without good motive.''

I left her to it, my eyes drawn to the Herald's staff. The trinkets, in
particular. It was a subtle thing, but there was power to them. They
were no simple decoration. My eyes narrowed. Not, not the trinkets
themselves. Something inside them, bound.

``The shackles do not bind you,'' the Herald of the Deeps said in
perfect Lower Miezan.

The other two went silent as I met those eldritch green eyes. I called
on a sliver of Winter and tore off one of the shackles like it was made
of parchment, runes struggling impotently.

``They do not,'' I agreed.

``You are not human,'' the Herald said.

``I was,'' I replied. ``Then I murdered a demigod and stole his power.''

``And so you come to the Everdark,'' the dwarf said. ``Seeking yet
more.''

``I have a great many enemies,'' I said. ``Enough it might be said we
share a few.''

The Herald smiled, slow and mean.

``I offer hospitality to you, Queen of Callow,'' he said. ``Let us eat,
drink, and talk of murdering gods.''

Well, \emph{now} they were speaking my language.