Icevein: Chapter 25

The upper drifts of Glint were masterworks of delving and carving. The stone had been smoothed and polished. Every natural mineral in the drift walls shone. The walls themselves were cut in perfect outward-sloping faces, and the ceilings were formed of five facets. Long colonies of Miner’s Eye traced the angles, glowing with red and orange hues amidst the blues even in the communal drifts. In many places, reliefs had been masterfully carved, depicting the founding of Glint and the nine owners. The portal openings of the stonehold doors were carved with reliefs of cave runes and symbols reflecting the occupants. Chargrim had ensured that anyone setting foot beneath the stone in Glint would see a colony of wealth even outside the Owner’s Drift.

The Judgment Hall was different. It had been the first great stope of Glint, and while it had been expanded since, its bare natural rock remained. The marks of pick and drills pocked the stone, and only the floor was smoothed to prevent tripping. At the northern end of the hall was a slight elevation serving as a wide dais, and from it rose a stone chair. It was undecorated and carved from living rock, emerging from the platform without seam.

Chargrim, sat in the chair, his walking-hammer in his hand, haft resting on the stone at his feet. He looked down at a pair of dwarves who stood before him, the parties of a dispute. Behind the two dwarves stood an assortment of others, and all around the hall the onlookers watched. All kulhan of Glint were allowed to attend the adjudications and judgments, though not all did. There would not be room for the thousands of dwarves now in Glint, anyway, and labor continued both on the surface and in the deep workings. Yet this day, the hall was packed and overflowing. Hundreds upon hundreds had come to view Icevein. Onyx’s status as an Owner—and Peridot as the daughter of two owners—allowed them spots on a natural shelf of rock on the eastern side of the hall, high enough to see over the heads of the other onlookers. The shelf was full of those from the Owner’s Drift. Members of the holds of Shineboot, Hobblefoot, Khlif, Greal, and Warmcoat were present, although only Shineboot, Greal, and Khlif attended themselves, sitting further down the shelf. Peridot noticed that Rightauger had chosen to sit near his uncles, rather than with his mother and sister. Thrushbeard’s son, Tinsnips, sat beside him.

So packed was the hall that Ridge Wardens used long wooden staves to keep the crowd back from the center and create an opening for those who would stand before the Irik-Rhûl. More dwarves stood outside the hall, too late to find space to enter, straining to hear the words spoken within—futile endeavor, for Chargrim did not yell in the judgment hall. Already, he had sat on the judgment seat for nearly three hours and Icevein had not arrived. It appeared that the Irik-Rhûl intended to dispense arbitration for all other claimants before dealing with Icevein, even though everyone knew why such a crowd had gathered. It certainly was not to hear the two coopers currently before Chargrim. They were arguing about the fair distribution of the cedar cut from the western ridge.

One of the coopers had five sons working in the same craft, and the other was unwed. The dwarf with the five sons had purchased all the cedar from the Outfitters and claimed he should be entitled to it, but the unwed cooper argued that he would not survive; he could only buy more cedar as he finished his other casks and sold them. The trees on the surface of the claim of Glint belonged to the owners. Those crafters who needed wood must deal with Glint, or else go to other nearby claims in search of timber, to be bartered over and perhaps floated down the river to Glint in the springtime as rafts of logs. This too was beyond the young cooper’s means, he argued.

As Chargrim listened to their complaints, Peridot strained to hear the arguments. The Ridge Wardens had already removed some of the onlookers for failing to remain quiet. No one cared about this dispute. They wanted Icevein. Peridot also wanted to see Icevein, but she leaned forward to hear as her father raised his hand to pronounce judgment. She had no idea what was right, but her gut told her it was unfair to allow the wealthier cooper to take all the lumber and leave the unwed cooper without the means to work.

“Hear my decision,” Chargrim said. “That lumber which is not needed for the workings of the mine will be offered on a first-come basis. Other lumber is available from other claims, for those who can bargain for it”

“But how am I supposed to go to other claims now, with ürsi about? I need wood to work now .”

Chargrim listened to the outburst of the poor cooper with a blank expression.

“Before it was winter, it was fall, and before it was fall, it was summer. All those in need may labor as yowganuntil spring, or such a time as you can purchase cedar.”

Peridot felt herself flush, and she was thankful she wore a heavy veil. How could her father disregard the plight of the poor dwarf so? She did not understand it. Was her father more callous than she thought? Had she only seen a gentler side of him by virtue of being his gilna?

Neither the wed or the unwed cooper spoke more, though it was clear from the nods and looks of satisfaction that the wealthy cooper was pleased, and from his red face that the poor was angry. Thrushbeard slammed the iron rod into the stone three times, and the Ridge Wardens guided the coopers out of the open space before the dais. Peridot watched the poor cooper push his way through the throng of dwarves and out of the Judgment Hall.

Now there was a hush as the folk looked about, trying to see what dispute might be next. The wait extended. Peridot noticed that her father gazed over toward the shelf, and at first she thought he was looking at her, but then she noticed that he was looking beside her, at Onyx. A flicker of a smile played upon his mouth. Peridot looked over at her mother. She was staring back at Chargrim. Though she too had chosen to wear a veil for the judgment, her eyes crinkled. Onyx’s hand rested lightly on her belly. Peridot looked at it. Was her belly. . . And her breasts. . . they were heavier. Or was Peridot imagining it?

A ripple of whispers spread from the south entrance of the hall, drawing Peridot’s attention. There was movement, and the folk parted, allowing a tight cluster of staff-wielding Ridge Wardens to clear a path. Dwarves strained their necks to try to see over shoulders and heads.

He was coming.

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The columns of the Judgment Hall of Glint rose in raw rock, just as they had been left by the first workings of the stope. The pillars framed the judgment seat of Chargrim Gold-Giver. Hardly a dwarf alive had not heard the stories of Chargrim of Glint, but standing now before the dais, Gretti found the Irik-Rhûl underwhelming, even in that high, bare hall. A thick wool mantle rested upon shoulders that looked thin and weak. There was nothing about his clothing that bespoke great wealth. The cut was tailored and some gold embroidery adorned the hem, but the style of garments were those that a miner might wear. Despite the clothes, it was clear that Chargrim had long been a stranger to the rigors of mining. Even his forearms looked thin. He sat upon the stone seat, one leg stuck out at an odd angle as if it could not fully bend. His face was scarred, and he leaned forward, grasping the handle of a long warhammer of curious make, no doubt the rumored Treadfoot. But this was no warrior.His hair had already started to grey.It was the eyes that cautioned Gretti. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find in them, but he was surprised to see something more akin to sorrow and weariness than haughty indignation. Whatever this dwarf was, it was nothing Gretti was familiar with, and that alone gave him pause.

Gretti cast a side-eye at the guards already present in the hall. He was ringed about in double line. He was entirely in their power. The gazes of hundreds of dwarves rested upon him. There were even wifs and maids present.

Shit on them all. He was there for a purpose.

The stories of Icevein, though exaggerated, were built upon a truth; the dwarf looked like a brute. A thick curly beard hung down his chest. His head had been shaved as ifin mourning, though a fuzz showed it had been a few days since the last shearing.Red-ridged scars distorted both cheeks and marred the sides of his head, and his nose was crooked and bulbous. Besides the disfigurements, he was thick of neck, so that it appeared his broad shoulders rose to his head in a continuous slope, and his forearms looked swollen with corded muscle . Peridot had no doubt that the dwarf was a fearsome fighter, if for no other reason than unusual strength.

By comparison, she couldn’t help but mark how small her father looked on the great stone chair. His arms and legs were thin, certainly thinner than a miner’s, though he had been a miner. He still sometimes worked alongside Shineboot or Warmcoat’s cadres, but not often. He looked more like Uncle Greal, a jewel-cutter, or some other sedentary crafter. There was a wateriness about his eyes that Peridot had noticed of late, though she thought it must be from lack of sleep. Yet despite Icevein’s imposing form and fearsome reputation, all the power in the hall rested upon Chargrim’s shoulders, for the hands of every Ridge Warden were his own. His words from two days before returned to her mind; he was hidden within the idea of the Irik-Rhûl. And that idea ruled the mountain.

After a long pause, wherein all in the hall gazed upon Icevein, Chargrim of Glint spoke:

“Icevein son of Edgefiler, son of Halfseam of the stonehold of the Low Colliers, you have murdered elevendwarves, oneof whom was kulhan of this mine, a Ridge Warden charged with the protection of all in the Gold River Range. In addition, you wounded—”

“I have murdered none,” Gretti interrupted, not waiting for Chargrim to finish his speech.

“Do you deny that you have killed many members of the Highlode hold, as well as one of our wardens?”

“I have killed justly.”

“The warden was not killed justly.”

Gretti might be called Icevein, but there was ice Chargrim’s voice, now.

It would take more than a tone to break Gretti.

“Your wardens attempted to hold me prisoner unjustly. Any who would lay their hand in violence upon a free dwarf is forfeit. This is claim law. You have broken it by holding me.”

“You came to us .”

“A free dwarf came to you of his free choice.”

“Why?” Chargrim asked. “You must have known no welcome awaited you here, slayer of our kulhan.”

“It was to fulfill an oath. I am a dwarf of my word. My deeds are just.”

“What oath brought you to Glint?”

“I was with your Ridge Wardens at Fox Scree,” Gretti answered. “The ürsi set upon us as I was in chains.”

Chargrim leaned forward.

“At Fox Scree?” he asked. It was clear that her father was just now hearing this. Icevein had refused to speak before arbitration.

“Ay, yes. The jackals had brought me there.”

There were whispers in the hall at the mention of the jackals.

“And what oath did you swear?”

“That if they let me free to help in the defense, I would come to Glint. So I have kept my oath.”

There were more murmurs now.

“You come alone. What of the wardens who were with you.”

“I alone survived.”

Chargrim’s lip twisted and his nose crinkled.

“You expect me to believe that among jackals and wardens, you alone survived the ürsi?”

“What you believe is little business of mine,” Gretti answered. “I have fulfilled my oath.”

“Do you not know that theIrik-Rhûl of East Spire has pronounced you outlaw, with the voice of the Council of Deep Cut? You may be slain by any who come upon you.”

“I have been mistaken,” Gretti said, his voice loud. Even those who could not fit into the hall would hear him in the passageways. “I thought Chargrim a free dwarf, but he is subject to Deep Cut and submits to their perverted justice. I never stood before the Council in arbitration. No puppet of East Spire has asked my testament.” Gretti held out his hands, his wrists chained, and looked around the hall. The crowd stood behind and to each side, held back by Ridge Wardens. Many wore fine clothes, as opposed to Gretti’s rags, but they hung on his words. “Where are my accusers?” He bellowed. “Let them stand before me.”

Chargrim squinted at Gretti, and his fingers twitched on the arm of his stone chair.

“It will take time for your accusers to be gathered. You will be kept until that time.”

“If they are not here, then you transgress to hold me.”

“ I am one of your accusers, for you have slain and wounded my kulhan. ”

“I am kinsman avenger and seeker of the blood of retribution.”

“The Highlodes were declared innocent of blood, acting in self defense.”

“Again I ask, is Chargrim subject to the wickedness of Deep Cut? The Highlodes were the only survivors. Judgment was declared with no testimony from my hold. It does not free them from blood guilt.”

“There was no one to testify,” Chargrim replied, ignoring Gretti’s challenge.

“ I would testify,” Gretti declared.

“You were not at the slayings. What can you testify?”

“I will tell it when the Highlodes face me, if they have the courage. I submit to a deeper law than any you wield, Chargrim of Glint. The law of our forebeards, back to the Kara-Indal and before.”

Gretti might not survive the judgment of this Chargrim, but if he could bring the Highlodes close. . . He glanced at one of the warden guards beside him, punch dagger hanging from the dwarf’s belt. The warden was staring to the side of the hall where a number of dwarf-maids and wifs sat watching the arbitration on a shelf of rock. Ay, bring the Highlodes near. He didn’t need to live or escape, only to kill, and he could die at peace.

Chargrim leaned back, his arm extended to hold the haft of his long hammer.

“You can submit to your deeper law in the custody of the wardens as easily as elsewhere. Until such a time as your accusers are assembled, you are the guest of the wardens.” With a slight motion of his chin, Chargrim signaled to the guards. A strong hand grasped Gretti’s shoulder. The chains jangled as he was turned and led from the hall.