Icevein: Chapter 44
Autumn, fifty-one years since the founding of Glint.
Gretti turned the last shovel-full of soil over on the disturbed earth of the grave. It was not a deep hole, but there was precious little topsoil. He hoped the rains did not wash away the loosened loam, but it would be winter soon. For good measure, he tossed a few stones atop and spread pine needles. This was the second. There could be no denying it, now. Word of his presence had gone out. How far had it spread? Would wardens come?
Three years before, the wardens had led him out of the gates of Glint. They took him a few hundred yards along the river but remained in sight of the gatehouse. There, they undid his chains and gave him his possessions. They even returned to him his weapons, though they kept crossbows trained upon him.
“Go,” their rinlen had said. “Or die.”
Not even a deep desire to spite that kulkur rinlen had kept him from leaving. He had jogged along the downstream trail, but as soon as had he turned the bend beyond sight of the wardens, two dwarves had stepped into the path. Gretti lifted his axe.
“Easy, there Edgefiler’s son,” the older dwarf said, palms raised. “We mean you no harm.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Bluebrow and this is my son Shimmer. Please come with us.”
“I know you not. Why should I go with you?”
“I knew your father, Icevein. We often piece-worked in the Halfwheel Claim. He would never have done what they say.”
“How did my father wield his hammer?”
“Palm to butt-end,” Bluebrow said, “if he was driving wedges.”
“Ay, yes,” Icevein said. It was one of the three most common techniques, but less favored than the other two. It could have been a guess, but then, Gretti’s choices were few. The kit of the two dwarves spoke of the rugged sort of prospectors who had twice and thrice mended all they had, making due when they couldn’t mend. Bluebrow continued:
“I have a claim to the northwest with no near neighbors. Come with us.”
Gretti had gone in the end. Bluebrow and Shimmer were true to their word, but more prospectors had come since then, and it was more and more common for dwarves to pick their way down the stream or stop at the adit to speak and ask news.
Gretti laid shovel and pick over his shoulder and began the ascent up the hill, his powerful thighs driving him upward. It was a joy to feel strength, to move in the world. It was a gift to survive another day, for in surviving, the fire of vengeance was not yet snuffed out.
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He smelled the smoke as soon as he reached the height of the slope, and he detected Shimmer’s scent as he followed the trail to the claim adit. No doubt, Bluebrow had lit the fire to boil tea; Shimmer had returned from Glint with the winter supplies—little more than salt, hill-smoke, tea, and some new tool iron, depending on what he managed to trade for. It was yet early fall, but it was dangerous to delay into the season of ürsi raids.
Gretti knocked on the cedar door with the butt of his shovel.
“It’s me,” he called.
He waited as the door was unlatched from within. Bluebrow peeked out, then opened the door wide. Gretti ducked inward, smelling the fresh-brewed ginger-root tea.
“Is all well?” Bluebrow asked. “I worried when you were late. Shimmer has returned.”
“He had safe travel, I hope?” Gretti asked, letting his eyes adjust from the daylight. Bluebrow’s claim was a gravel claim more than a hard-rock claim, and the drift was used for shelter. Most of the work occurred in the sluices on the slope. Sleeping alcoves were dug into the right side of the drift, and a small stope gave room for a cookfire and a few stone kists for keeping supplies safe from vermin. Shimmer sat on a three-legged stool beside the fire, clasping a steaming roughhewn wooden mug in his hands.
“What news?” Gretti asked.
“Your prizes traded well,” Shimmer said. “We’ve hill-smoke aplenty this winter.”
Gretti loved the hill-smoke less than his hosts, but he would not complain if they indulged that luxury.
“That is good,” Gretti said, sitting down cross-legged on the stone and pouring himself a mug of the tea. Bluebrow settled near the fire as well.
“The Highlodes?” Gretti asked.
“Still there,” Shimmer said.
“You’re sure?”
“Kulhan, by the sound of it. They haven’t stirred on the surface, from what I was told.”
Gretti breathed in the scent of the tea. He was both glad and irritated; glad the Highlodes had not fled to some far hall, but irritated that he could not get at them. He had long considered trying to make his way into Glint, but Bluebrow had dissuaded him time and again. After his trial, his face was well known, and Glint was well guarded.
“There is more,” Bluebrow said, looking at Shimmer. “Tell him.”
“Good news,” Shimmer said, smiling. “Glint desires iron.”
“Iron?” Gretti asked. “Do they not have enough iron?”
“Last year they did not want it, but now they have put out word for iron and coal. They have even sent to the Brown Hills.”
“I thought they had iron claims?” Gretti asked.
“They have the old Westerdelverclaim, that’s sure,” Bluebrow said.
“Well, they want more and will pay for it, and that’s what matters,” Shimmer answered. “Can’t get enough of it, and Chargrim is paying a fair price.”
“How much?”
“I heard four yothe, just for one tonne of decent ore.”
“It is fair,” Bluebrow said.
“We must take advantage,” Shimmer said.
“There is no iron here,” Gretti said. “Nothing in quantity.”
“Not here,” Bluebrow replied. “When we were prospecting, we found a vein by accident while hunting, well concealed up a slope. Good hematite.”
“How far?”
“Twenty miles, maybe more.”
“The slope might be claimed, now.”
“There is only one way to find out,” Bluebrow said.
“And what if Glint stops buying a month from now? Do you want claim jumpers here while we are digging for hematite?”
“Did you hear why Glint wants iron so much?” Bluebrow asked.
“I heard rumors, but not all agreed,” Shimmer answered.
“Any more believable than another?”
“The engineer, one of the Owners. He is building something.”
“Then I find it hard to believe they can need so much iron,” Gretti said.
"Nevertheless,” Bluebrow said. “We will go and mine hematite, if the claim is yet open, and it will get you away from here. I would see you live to revenge your father, not be cut down by these blood-gold hunters.”
“Do not go because of me,” Gretti said.
“Nonesense.” Bluebrow waved his words away. “We go for iron.”