Chapter 68: At Table with the Enemy
Yorvig had the walls of the dell expanded all the way down to the river some years before, and now there was a gatehouse that lead out onto the bridge on one side and up and down the river road on two others. Anyone approaching the dell would know immediately that this was not just a claim, it was a fortress.
Only three Jackals approached the river gate the next day. Word had already reached Yorvig that the rest of the Jackals had halted and taken up a position on the very same rockslide stones where they had rescued the Hardfells and Warmcoat many years before. They were being watched, there.
The three that approached the gate were fully armed, wearing brown clothing and leather-covered armor. Any metal they carried—spear-heads, bucklers, axe-blades, knife-hilts—were blued, and their warmasks were like the rusted visages of twisted beasts. These were the Jackals of the Waste who hunted the human bandits that preyed upon caravans and kept the borders of Deep Cut. They had never been known so far from home.
Arrayed on the gate house and along the wall were enough Ridge Wardens with crossbows to ensure the Jackals would bleed like sieves in the space of a breath. Carrying only his walking hammer, Yorvig ordered the gate open and stepped out, Thrushbeard beside him.
“Who is it that approaches Glint?” Thrushbeard asked. Whereas Yorvig was dressed in trousers and long-shirt, Thrushbeard wore hauberk, breastplate, greaves, vambraces, and helm. He bore his axe and shield as well. Thrushbeard's kit was enameled and gilt with gold, as befitted a rinlen of the richest claim of the dwarves. Despite this, and though he would never have said it to Thrushbeard, Yorvig was certain any of the three Jackals standing there could have killed Thrushbeard with little trouble. These were dwarves who had trained at nothing else for decades.
“I am Reamer, rinlen of the third cadre, Jackal of the Waste.” It was the center Jackal who spoke, and Yorvig was surprised at the voice. It was neither angry nor haughty. If anything, it sounded tired.
“Greetings, Reamer, rinlen of the third cadre, Jackal of the Waste. And what brings you to Glint?”
The Jackal glanced to the side, but not at anything in particular. It was impossible to see an expression.
“You know why I’m here.” A return of the head showed that the Jackal now regarded Yorvig. “I take it you are Chargrim.”
“I am.”
“I do not know your intent, but I am here for my Jackals.”
“I know why you’re here. I was asking to be polite," Yorvig said, smirking. The Jackal tilted his head. Yorvig continued: “There are traditions of courtesy, you know. I want you to eat with me. I am sure my fare is better than what you’ve had on the road.”
“You want to add to your hostages?”
“I could have you killed right now if I wanted, or captured, though I know you would put up a fight. I’m surprised you brought so few.”
“I promise only that if you harm a Jackal, the Jackals will harm you. If not today, then some day. No siege would be necessary.”
“I expect no less,” Yorvig said. “And that’s why you should eat with me and trust your safety. I would speak with you in private. Maybe there was a message from Deep Cut they meant you to give me. I in turn have a proposition. If you eat with me, and we talk, you may leave with all your dwarves. If you will not, you may leave with these two you brought.”