The light makes each strand of her white hair like a gold thread. She looks otherworldly, the very image of a user of forces I cannot understand, that indeed no dwarf can understand. Her human features, turned brilliant yellow by the incandescence, make her expression unreadable. My heart pounds; I level Life-Ripper at her chest.

"Nthazes says you claim to be Jaemes' daughter," I say, "but that alone will not make you my friend."

"You are more judgmental than the others, then."

"Yes."

Her fingers twitch. I brace, ready myself to charge, but she doesn't attack. The golden sphere enveloping her shrinks until it encompasses only the tip of her wand. I don't relax just yet, though. Even this tiny piece of magery is still powerful enough to light up the forge like the surface sun brought down. The light is harsh and hot, too. I think it's burning my skin.

"Us dwarves suffer in the sunlight," I say. "I would appreciate if you would extinguish it."

She diminishes it to the tiniest speck. "I must have some," she says. "I cannot see in the dark as well as you can."

"No. The underworld is no place for humans. So, then, why are you here?"

"In the underworld? In the fort? In your forge?"

"In my forge."

"Curiosity, first and foremost."

Her mastery of our language is equal to Jaemes'. Her voice is accented in the same way, but her tone is different. It's like two pieces of perfectly cut quartz being ground against each other. Rasping, yet oddly musical.

"And what lies behind this curiosity?" I ask. "You clearly do not know much of our ways yet, if you interrupt a runeknight while he is at the forge."

"It sounded as if you had finished."

"You might have knocked."

"I spoke from outside. Your door was open already."

"And then you entered."

"I opened the door to defend myself. You picked up your weapon before I shone my light upon you."

"You should not have surprised me so."

"And how else was I meant to get your attention? I do not think I spoke overly loudly, either."

She's certainly as stubborn as Jaemes was. She might well be his daughter.

"You might have come to my quarters or approached me in the eating hall."

"You are never in your quarters. I have asked. And neither do the others appreciate my presence while they eat. It unnerves them."

"Perhaps you could make efforts to become less so."

"I fear that no matter how much I try, I will always be unpopular among you dwarves. My father complained of the same issue."

"So, he was your father, then? Not just your teacher."

"Yes. Father, never teacher."

I tilt Life-Ripper upright so the point is no longer aimed at her heart.

"Yes—I believe that, now I've spoken to you. But like I've already said, that does not make you my friend. Do not blind me with your light again. My Life-Ripper is faster than you guess."

She frowns. "My father said you could be a violent one. It seems he was correct."

"I don't know what it's like up on the surface, but down in the underworld, those with no violence in their blood do not live very long."

"Well, quite. I know this is a war-torn place. The surface is more peaceful."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow. "On my last journey under the sun, two of your fellow mages tried to slay me."

"I see. I suppose that explains your animosity. Where, exactly, did you meet these mages?"

"The north. There were hills. I don't know the name. It was above hated Uthrarzak's domain. There were some ruins, too."

"The land of the broken kings. They are barbarians, and I'm sorry you had to deal with them. I am from Hyvaen, below-dweller. We do not treat visitors in such a manner. Did my father never tell of it?"

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"He did. I don't recall much. Our crafts and gold are prized there, I seem to remember. It seems some of my kin resident there do not care much about our taboos."

"People of all kinds and creeds dwell there. They are drawn to the light."

"But you and your father were drawn by the darkness."

"It fascinated us." She shifts a little, uncomfortably. "All this standing tires me. Is there no place to sit in your forge?"

"The forge is not a place of rest, human."

"I see."

I've heard that some runeknights, deep in the libraries of Allabrast, spend their lives in contemplation. They spend long-hours sitting in study, bent over tomes of runes long forgotten by most dwarves, poring over obscure fragments of scripts too incomplete to be made useful. This Alae, this human witch, gives me an idea of what these runeknights might be like. Her elongated frame seems frail. Just standing is tiring for her. There's little meat on her arms—she could never hold a weapon, unless it's that thin section of wood her bony fingers clutch.

"If you wish to watch me work, you will have to stand. I see no reason why you should relax while I burn in the depths of the magma ocean."

She takes a sudden step closer. Her eyes seem to brighten. "Then you will show me?"

I laugh and shake my head. "What is there to show that your eyes will see? Only I can see what happens down there. And even if you could—I will not let you, no."

"Why not?" Her expression changes, maybe to something pleading. Her strange features make it hard to tell. "After my father helped you so much."

"He helped us—yet you did not." Hot anger flushes my face and I scowl. "Why not?" I demand. "A runeknight was lost to the darkness while you stood up on the steps with your light in hand. Why did you not use it?"

"It would have drawn the darkness to me like a moth to a candle-flame."

"Moth? Your dwarvish was odd, there. Whatever you're trying to say, it sounds like an excuse. The others risk their lives—why won't you? Your father defied a Runethane! He was willing to die for his conviction—to die in the pursuit of truth. He was willing to undergo any kind of pain and humiliation to save us. But you do nothing."

Her eyes widen. She looks shocked. She wasn't expecting our conversation to go this way, I think. Well, I've spoken nothing but the truth. She's nothing next to her father. All she's done is take advantage of Nthazes' hospitality and Jaemes' reputation.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" I demand. "What gives you the right to learn our deepest secrets? Secrets lost for a hundred thousand of your surface years!"

"A long time," she says quietly. "You are an ancient people."

"Answer my question."

"I am researching. Guildmaster Nthazes knows this."

"Researching what? The darkness?"

"What else?"

"And what have you found out about it?"

"Little, so far, despite my best efforts. Just one thing—it's closer in nature to our magic, and to your older magic, than it is to the power of runes."

I frown. "Our older magic?"

"Yes."

"What older magic?"

"Older magic lost for a hundred thousand years, when we humans wore skins and lived in huts."

"Tell me."

"I shall, if you tell me of your runes. If you show me your runeforging. Isn't that fair? I don't expect to be given anything for free, you know. I do plan to fight on your side, once I'm ready."

"Do you now?"

"I do. Believe me! I was moved by my father's tale of you dwarves' bravery. I wish to help you—that's why I came down here. There's plenty of magic to study on the surface, safer magics too. Fascination led me, yes—fascination with the character of you dwarves also."

"I see."

"So, why not accept my trade? My knowledge for yours."

"Your knowledge of ancient dwarven magic? Knowledge lost to dwarves, yet somehow known to humans?"

"Yes."

I laugh. "How did you come upon this knowledge? I don't believe you."

"Deduction, and certain patterns in your culture. An outsider can see the shape of the dwelling where the insider cannot."

"And this knowledge is equal in worth to knowledge of my runeforging?"

"It's not all I can tell you. I will tell you of our human magic too."

I laugh louder. "I don't see how that could be of any use. We can't work it, can we?"

"No. But it may help you to understand your own better. All is connected."

"Are you implying that you humans' sky-tricks stem from the same source as our runes?"

"In some way, yes, they must—though there is a peculiarity to runic magic that no other kinds have. To your magic in specific, Zathar Runeforger."

"What peculiarity?"

"A uniqueness."

"Tell me more."

She crosses her arms. Her wand flares momentarily, making me blink. "No, Runeforger. Not until I see what I have come to see."

I stare her down, glare into those unnerving eyes. The golden light from the tip of her wand hurts my own, but I ignore the pain. It does not burn like almergris did.

"Have I convinced you to trade?" she asks. "I promise you, I have no untoward intentions. I am here for research in the service of Guildmaster Nthazes, and of my own private curiosity. I have abandoned the surface. Your secrets will not be told to other wizards, if that is what worries you."

"It does worry me."

"I will not tell any other human. You have my word on that. I will not tell any other dwarves, either. Only Guildmaster Nthazes, and only if I have your permission."

I grit my teeth as I consider. To let a human I've only just met witness my runeforging—it seems wrong, as well as risky and foolish. If she breaks her word and gives this knowledge to her fellow wizards up on the surface, what could that lead to? I taught runes to Dwatrall, and what has that led to?

In return, she offers me secrets very few dwarves have ever heard—perhaps none have ever heard what she'll tell me. If they lead me to further knowledge of my powers, further knowledge of what the First Runeforger created, this trade could be an invaluable one.

Her talk of lost magic especially intrigues me. I think back to the sunken city and the carvings on the walls, and the master mason's fascination with them, and his terrible rage at us runeknights.

No masons came down with Hayhek and Ithis. They've all gone off with their master, somewhere, to do something—likely nothing good. He has the stoneleaf book, which Vanerak hoped I might be able to read. What knowledge does it contain?

"Fine," I say. "I'll take your trade. It would be foolish of me not to. Knowledge is power, and war is coming, don't you know?"

"Yes—I have heard another Runeking has designs on you."

"There are other wars coming also. I can feel it. With trolls, and with other dwarves. And before all that, there is our battle against the darkness."

"You speak as if you plan to march down there."

"Our Runethane plans to march down there, apparently. Nthazes told me he won't refuse. Neither will my guild. With my runes, we might have a chance, you know?"

An expression I do understand comes upon her face. Worry.

"It's powerful magic down there. And ancient. I can't tell where it stems from. Ours is from the sky—that magic is not from stone, nor anything physical, I don't think."

"The sky?"

"I've said too much. If you want to know more, runeforger—you must runeforge. Please."

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