Runethane Halmak's hall is not quite as big as Runethane Ytith's was, but it is still grand. Heavily expanded from a natural cavern, it is a long rectangle with a natural hollow situated at the back. Pale stalactites droop from the border between rippled and artificial, and behind them sits Runethane Halmak, as if within the trophy skull of some gigantic monster. The path leading from the entrance to him is a mosaic made from gold-flecked marble. The pattern is of interlocking weapons. Crimson light from braziers hanging above gives them bloody edges. His throne and its dais are of the same marble, though undecorated.

"Bring him forward, Brezakh!" Runethane Halmak booms. "Let's not waste time we could be spending in the forge."

We approach. Runethane Halmak looks much as I remember, shorter than the average yet also dominating, intimidating. His armor, thick bronze traced with many thousands of fiery runes of blood-tinted gold, is unchanged, as is its strength, which I can feel even from fifty yards away. His weapon leans against his throne. It is a great warhammer with a massively over-sized, diamond-spiked head. Runic power shimmers around the absurdly long gems.

Brezakh holds up his hand to halt us when we reach the foot of his dias. I bow, then go to one knee beneath the tooth-like stalactites.

"Pull up that visor a bit more, Zathar Once-Traitor," orders the Runethane.

I obey. He peers down at me.

"That's a right scar you have. What gave it to you, eh?"

"Another dwarf."

"Hah! The most dangerous kind of opponent. How interesting. Ascend, Zathar. We have things to discuss."

I stand and walk up the dais, trying not to let my reluctance show in my gait. Am I really going to have to describe all my journeys yet again? I am not looking forward to the prospect of more questioning. Unlike Nthazes, this Runethane Halmak is no friend. Hopefully he is no enemy either—but still, I cannot trust him.

I kneel before his throne. I feel his gaze roving over my armor, examining its every plate and curve, the weld-healed scars, and most of all the golden runes. No doubt his eyes are attending to Life-Ripper and its twisted thorns also.

"Get up, Zathar," he says after a few long minutes.

I do so. He looks me up and down again, slowly, before he meets my gaze.

"It's a long way down here from Allabrast. Even further from the surface. Very far from Runethane Ytith's realm, too."

I wonder how he found out from where I came from. But as Runethane, I suppose he has his sources, especially within his own realm.

"It has indeed been quite the journey, my Runethane," I say cautiously.

"I never liked Runethane Ytith. I prefer my ladies warm, not cold as old steel. She makes me shiver."

"I only stayed with her briefly, my Runethane."

"Did you now? But you must have accomplished something of note for her, to have been given such a powerful writ."

"It only let me come down here, my Runethane."

"But very quickly. Why was she so eager to send you down, eh? Has some business down here, does she? With me and my realm?"

His every word, every syllable, every last movement of his lips is heavy with danger. Vanerak's voice was that of cold steel, like a knife held against the throat. Runethane Halmak's voice carries the feeling of a high-held, heavy axe poised to swing down. I must tread carefully here. As one must when talking to any Runethane.

"She has no business with you that I know of, my Runethane. But you are right that I accomplished a deed for her."

"And what was that deed?"

"On my journey to her realm, the caravan I was traveling with was attacked by a tribe of iron trolls. I helped lead the defense, and I slew their chief. I took its head up to her as proof."

"Trolls, you say?" He strokes his red-lit beard. "Been a while since I chopped up one of them. We have more interesting beasts down here—as I believe you have experienced for yourself."

"That I have, my Runethane."

He nods slowly, then he leans back into his gold-veined throne and folds his arms. "If not on an errand of Ytith's, then why are you here, Zathar?"

"I came to meet my old friends, the dwarves of the deep. Or the Guardians Against Darkness, as they call themselves now."

"I see. And why did you wish to meet them so urgently?"

"Why should I not wish to see my friends again? It has been a long while since I last saw them. They may totally ignore the passage of time, but I cannot."

"So it's just a friendly visit, eh?"

"Yes."

"The last rumor I heard, was that you were on your way to slay a dragon. The dragon."

"Indeed I was."

"And what happened?"

"We slew it. At great cost."

"And after that?"

"I went with Vanerak, who claims to have slain the dragon, though he did not—he took the credit for Xomhyrk Dragonslayer's work. He stole that great runeknight's honor. And then he imprisoned me in his realm, so that he might force me to use my powers for his own ends."

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A silent shock reverberates through the room, one as palpable as any deafening gong-clang. But I do not flinch.

"Those are some bold claims to make about a Runethane, Zathar," Runethane Halmak says slowly. "Imprisoned you, did he?"

"Yes. I was confined to my quarters, or to the forge, and nowhere else. But that is the least of the crimes he has committed. He worked hundreds of miners to death, and led hundreds of his own runeknights to their deaths too. He has tortured innocents, and most heinously of all he murdered my entire guild, the Association of Steel, with no justification—not that there could ever be justification for such a deed. He is, in short, a foul traitor to his Runeking."

Runethane Halmak narrows his eyes. "And do you have any proof of these accusations?"

"I have none. But you will hear the same story from the other survivors of his delves into the magma sea. They are on their way here, or at least I hope they are."

"Survivors? We do not have so much accommodation here to spare. Though I suppose the hollowing out of the new district could be hastened."

"I would be most grateful if you were to allow them to live here, in your great city." I bow deeply. "They have suffered terribly."

"Indeed, indeed." He is scrutinizing my armor again. "Tell me again, why did he imprison you? I didn't quite catch what you said. To make use of your powers? And what powers might these be?"

"The power of runeforging, my Runethane."

This time the shock is not silent. A chorus of whispers breaks out from the runeknights behind, mixed with confused laughter. Runethane Halmak stares at me for a few seconds, then laughs loudly himself.

"Runeforging? You aren't serious."

I gesture to my armor. "Have you read this script before, my Runethane?"

"I have not."

"That is because it is one made by my hand, a matter of but a few hundred or so long-hours ago. It is not one made by the First Runeforger a hundred thousand years past."

"The First Runeforger? No one even knows how many there were."

"The Runeking himself assured me that there was only one. I have seen his statue, in the city below the magma sea—on the walls of that chamber images had been carved of the first runeknights."

"Is that so?"

"It is."

He stares into my eyes, searching for some hint that I might be lying. He scowls, as if frustrated to find none.

"I need more detail. Tell me everything, starting from your quest to slay the black dragon. Leave out nothing, no matter how insignificant. And tell me most of all of these powers you claim to have."

"You do not believe I have them—but I am no liar, my Runethane. I've paid too steep a price for—"

"Enough wittering, Zathar!" he booms, and I flinch. "I'll decide if you're a liar or not. It's up to me. Begin your tale. You set off from Allabrast, I presume, and then?"

So once more I am forced to lay out my tales to a Runethane. He is a much more aggressive listener than Runethane Ytith was. In fact, he is more interrogator and berater than listener. Not a single episode of mine is heard without a comment, critique, or barrage of questions demanding further detail.

It is, of course, my claims of runeforging that get his most special attention. He is not interested in the same way Vanerak was interested, however. Vanerak did not doubt my powers; in contrast Runethane Halmak simply cannot believe that these runes I create are my own. At first he accuses me of making everything up, but my patient logic forces him to the conclusion that if there was absolutely nothing to my powers, Vanerak would have had no reason to imprison me. Especially he would not have had any reason to gift me such a great wealth of metal, reagents and gems.

"Even told you our secret, I see," he says at one point, darkly.

"No. I figured that out for myself."

"Indeed. Of course. Continue."

I do so, but still cannot convince him my runes are truly original. He grows irritable, so I move on. The story of Pellas' torture, and the many other crimes that led up to the rebellion saddens him greatly. He cannot believe Vanerak would have thrown away so many lives so needlessly, so obsessedly. It takes tens of thousands of long-hours for a runeknight to gain enough power to be of real use. To waste so many of them is unfathomable to him—I remember Runethane Ytith saying that he is generous to his lessers, and in my time with the Red Anvil guild I learned this about him too.

"It's no wonder they abandoned that beast," he spits, when I speak of how Vanerak's army fled the demons. "And I am beginning to have my suspicions about who might have given you that scar. Continue, now. I sense that we are nearing the end."

I tell him of the city, the guardian, and of my latest betrayal, which I make clear that I do not regret in the slightest. He nods at this. Finally, I tell him of my duel against Vanerak under the shadow of the great statue of the First Runeforger and give a brief overview of my exit from the magma sea and my battle against the trolls.

"A most interesting set of tales, Zathar Maybe-Runeforger," he says at the end. "Most interesting indeed. I have no idea what to make of them."

"I have a few ideas," Brezakh growls from behind us. "This makes two Runethanes he's betrayed.

Runethane Halmak shakes his head. "Vanerak betrayed his runeknights most thoroughly before they dared raise their metal against him. Runethanes have a duty to their runeknights, and to all the dwarves of their realm too. Loyalty must be a two-way tunnel. I do not disagree with Zathar's decision. And to fight a Runethane to a standstill! Perhaps Vanerak was not exaggerating when he said he rated you a first degree."

"I accept your praise most humbly, my Runethane."

"This story about runeforging, though—it still doesn't sit right with me. Something seems off. Like I've said, your runes are well put-together, but there is nothing especially powerful about them, intrinsically. I can sense this. They're like any other script."

"He mentioned that the Runeking thought the same, didn't he?" says Brezakh. "When he was telling us the kind of things Vanerak asked about. Well, there you have it. There's nothing new about these runes. They're just warped."

I look back. "If they're just warped, then why do they work?"

"How should I know? We use the runes. We do not understand them, have never needed to. They're magic."

"I agree, Brezakh," says Runethane Halmak. "The Runeking was right. It would be arrogant to doubt him—I don't want to follow Vanerak's example. Awful dwarf! Always thought so, from the first moment I met him."

"Then I am glad we are of the same opinion there, at least," I say.

"He's your Runethane!" Brezakh barks. "Of course you should be of the same opinion."

"But I cannot deny the truth of what I see in my trances."

Brezakh begins another angry retort, but the Runethane holds up a palm to silence him. "Relax, commander. All dwarves have a right to their own ideas, no matter how idiotic, mad, or arrogant those ideas may be."

"This particular dwarf's ideas, and person, are more dangerous than most. I recommend we keep him under a close watch. If not close guard."

"No. We owe a great deal of gratitude to Zathar. Do not forget this!" He raises his voice to address the whole hall, all of my gathered so-called honor guard. "We would never have been given this realm if it wasn't for his and his friend's trust in us. And he saved this realm too, from a rogue runeknight most cruel. I will not see him treated badly."

Brezakh nods humbly. "Very well, my Runethane."

Runethane Halmak returns his stare to me. I tense out of instinct, but his tone is kind:

"You are welcome here in the deep, Zathar. Enjoy our city. Live your life here for as long as you please. Participate in its expansion also—you came down with little in the way of belongings, I have heard. There are plenty of opportunities here to gain the gold to buy some, for a runeknight of second degree, closing in on first."

A glowing sense of absolute gratitude wells up inside me. Live my life here—live a life here—earn gold of my own on the jobs I wish to take. Lead the life, in short, of a runeknight. I have desired this for so long. This freedom. I swallow back a lump in my throat.

"Thank you, my Runethane. Thank you. Thank you most greatly. I am honored to be here."

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