Chương 90: V3: Chapter 31 -Fate Lends a Hand

By midday, the last of the supplies and luggage had been stowed aboard the Crown Jewel, and the lines of passengers were gone. Royce and Hadrian, along with several hundred dwarfs who lined the harbor, watched as Auberon, Sloan, and a couple others were called up the ramp. They stood at the rail and spoke with Bray, Tiliner, and Cassandra. It wasn't a long meeting, and soon they returned. The gangway was thrown off as were the mooring lines. Some of the dwarfs helped with this and even waved goodbye.

Then the Crown Jewel set sail. The white canvases unfolded, dropping down, catching air, billowing out, and pushing the huge ship very slowly backward. Once away from the dock and into the clear bay, the sails turned, their rotation revealed as shadowed canvas shifted to sun-kissed brilliance. The ship pivoted with all the speed of a shadow on a sundial. Then the canvas fluttered loudly only to snap full again. Aiming for the gap between the two towers, the Crown Jewel unfurled all twenty-eight sails.

The sight was stunning. So much unblemished cloth so brilliantly displayed in the midday sun made the ship appear top-heavy. As she picked up speed, the Jewel drew a white-water wake, making an arrow pointing toward the exit. At first, Royce wondered how such a behemoth would manage to sneak through so narrow an opening, but as she moved away, the ship appeared to shrink.

Then, as she passed between the towers of Drumindor, the Crown Jewel appeared like a children's toy, just a bobbing bit of painted wood and some glued pieces of cloth. She rounded the point and then was gone. The last ship, the last passengers, and perhaps the last survivors were away.

"What do you think that meeting with the dwarfs was all about?" Hadrian asked as the two walked back up Berling's Way.

"I don't know," Royce replied.

"Maybe some last-minute insults."

"Or maybe the Trio is congratulating them."

"For what?"

"Well, this is the first time in like a thousand years that Tur Del Fur is back under the control of the dwarfs, isn't it?" Hadrian swept his hand in a half circle around him.

"With only a few exceptions, they're the only ones still here. They own the place again." This truth became abundantly obvious as they climbed up the four tiers back to Pebble Way and the Turquoise Turtle. Royce didn't think the city could feel any emptier, but it did. Nothing moved on the streets. They didn't see a single person of any height on the way back. What's more, the ever-present chickens and roosters that always clogged the streets were missing.

Cats and dogs were absent as well, which made Royce wonder about the rats and their fame for leaving sinking ships. He suspected they, too, had left. The little rolkin looked just as before. The same aqua blue door, shutters, banisters, and railings accented the white courtyard, where a garden of potted plants and four fruit trees continued to grow. But it wasn't the same. The place felt dead. The whole city was a graveyard and the Turtle just another corpse.

Inside, the cozy and cool place was unchanged: the big, cushioned bench where Albert had lounged, the icebox, and the jungo plant named Daisy. For the last three weeks this was where Royce could always expect to find Gwen — the longest he'd ever come to living with her. His memories struggled to remind him that it hadn't been all sunshine and jungo plants, but oddly, all he remembered was her face caught in the sunlight that beamed in patches through the branches of the lemon tree.

How she smiled, and how beautiful and happy she appeared.

"When they look at this city, it's like when I look at you," Gwen had said, and now here he was, staring at a door and seeing her.

"You'll do it for me." Hadrian dropped himself into one of the courtyard chairs, the one that faced the lemon tree, then threw his head back and released a tortured sigh. Royce stared at this puddle of a man who, with arms flung out, head hanging, and legs extended, appeared to lack bones.

"If you don't care," Royce asked, "why did you stay? Why are you making this climb with me?"

"Honestly?" Hadrian replied.

"I think I'm kinda hoping twice will be the charm." Royce rolled his eyes. He hated when Hadrian got like this. He loathed it even more when it was hours before an important assignment. And this wasn't just a big job — climbing that tower would be a dangerous undertaking. Royce hadn't said so, tried not to think about it, but this climb wasn't going to be as easy as he had let on. If he was honest, he'd admit to being a bit scared.

This wasn't as high as the Crown Tower, but Royce had had months to prepare for that job. He'd studied the face of the tower, done partial practice runs — and that building was made of stone blocks. Unusually massive slabs to be sure, but still set in the traditional manner that left a regular pattern of seams. Climbing it was little more than repetition. And it got easier as he neared the top because the blocks grew smaller, granting him more options. Drumindor was smooth.

All he could exploit were the fickle cracks that nature had generated at random. A lot could go wrong. How shallow might the cracks be? How much wind was up there? And then there was the mystery of what might happen as they neared the bridge. According to Cornelius, Gravis Berling and Falkirk de Roche had simply walked into Drumindor's South Tower. This was odd because the tower hadn't been empty. Drumindor never was. The base level acted as the headquarters for the Delgos Port Authority Association.

There would have been more than a dozen Yellow Jackets just inside, all of whom knew not to let Gravis in. But somehow, this didn't act as a deterrent. As much as Royce was worried about Falkirk, he was more concerned about Gravis. While Drumindor was a forge and a volcanic cap, it was also a fortress. Given the icebox and the flush bucket, what other clever tricks might a dwarf fortress possess? Were there secret passages, traps? Could Gravis release a trickle of lava that would flow down the tower's grooves?

That would really ruin their day. And then what would happen when they reached the bridge? Would they just be able to walk in? What if there was another hidden door? Royce hoped to reach the bridge before dawn tomorrow using the darkness to hide, but also if they couldn't get in, a whole day remained to rappel down the ropes and get out of the city before the place blew. But what if Gravis had a surprise planned? Could he destroy the bridge? From the ground, it looked as thin as parchment.

And if they got in, if they encountered Gravis and Falkirk — the man who refused to die — what, then? Royce might need Hadrian — a living, breathing Hadrian, with bones and everything.

"I might need you at the top," Royce said.

"Hate to get all the way up there and not be able to save the city because it takes two men to turn a dwarf-sized crank."

"What are you talking about? I'm going with you."

"Are you? First, Pickles dies — again — and now, this Millificent woman checks out. I know how you get. You blame yourself for their deaths, get drunk, and are good for nothing for weeks."

"I'm sorry for having a conscience, for having feelings. If I were you, I suppose I wouldn't so much blame myself as take credit for their deaths." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"I need a partner up there, Hadrian. I need someone I can count on. Otherwise, you aren't just killing yourself, you're killing me, too." Hadrian didn't say anything. Royce wished he would. A good fight might be the best thing. Hatred for Royce had motivated Hadrian up the Crown Tower. Maybe it could work a miracle again. But times had changed. He and Hadrian weren't flint and steel anymore. An army of dwarfs led by Auberon arrived at the Turtle, driving a wheelbarrow full of climbing gear.

They unloaded it and began making last-minute adjustments and explaining design features, none of which Hadrian cared about. After they sized his harness and measured his feet, Hadrian escaped and climbed the stairs to his room, where he threw off his swords and collapsed face-down on the bed. Maybe this time Royce should climb alone. I've already killed two people, and they say deaths come in threes.

Hadrian lay with his face swallowed by the pillow, trying to understand how this time he'd killed two people without drawing a sword. I haven't even worn them! I'm like a disease. Wherever I go, people die. Royce killed for a living, but he had never been this good. Apparently when it came to causing suffering and death, Hadrian was a natural prodigy of misery. He hadn't completely closed the door and heard it creak open.

"Hadrian?" a dwarven voice asked.

"Not here," he replied into the pillow. Footsteps entered and the door closed.

"Trying to get some sleep, are ya?" Hadrian rocked his head and, opening one eye, spotted Auberon sitting down in the stone chair beside the bed.

"If I was, I doubt I'd need company. Sleeping is usually a solitary effort." Auberon nodded sagely. Certain people had that ability. Arcadius oozed wisdom. The professor could sneeze and make it appear all mystical and lesson-worthy. Auberon was the same way. Age had a lot to do with it, but Hadrian had seen a lot of old men who radiated a far more doddering-fool mystique. Maybe it's the long white beard?

"Royce tells me the two of you are going to begin your climb tonight."

"If he says so, I'd listen to him." Hadrian punched up his pillow.

"He also suggested that you might not be up to the task."

"Nearly four years and nothing's changed," Hadrian told the pillow.

"He also says you blame yourself for Rehn's death." Hadrian cocked his head clear of the feather-filled bag.

"That's usually what I do when someone would still be alive except for my getting them killed. He sacrificed himself to save me."

"Did he now?" Auberon asked.

"There isn't much a man can do when someone fires a crossbow at their back. So, yeah. If not for him, I'd be the one sailing home in a coffin."

"Interesting." Auberon did that wise-old-soul nodding thing. Knowing it was some sort of trap, Hadrian hated himself for asking but couldn't help it.

"What's interesting?"

"It's just that... well, you might have noticed that my people are a bit on the cynical side. Over the last month, perhaps you've witnessed some of the reasons why. And out of this pessimistic attitude comes a certain sprout of fatalism — a belief that if someone's life is saved, then fate had a hand in it. Granted, if you're a Dromeian, the reason is almost always awful. But fate is fate, and the whole thing is made worse if the savior is killed in the act.

If that happens, fate isn't just tapping you on the shoulder and saying big things are headed your way. No sir, if the person who saves your life pays for it with theirs, then fate is coming to settle a score, and you're already deep in debt. I suppose the part I find interesting is how curious a thing it is that here you are about to attempt the impossible — to save the homes and the lives of so many people. Coincidence struggles to explain such a thing away."

"You're trying to tell me that Rehn died so I could save Tur Del Fur?" Auberon shook his head.

"No. I'm not much of a believer in fate or destiny or any of that nonsense. That sort of thing is for priests and monks, and I am far removed from both. I just know that while you can't change what's past, you can alter the future. Sometimes when the world breaks your heart, it also gives you the needle and thread necessary to do a fair job of stitching it back together. Won't be the same, acourse, but it sure beats walking around without one.

So maybe fate didn't kill Rehn to save this city, but if you do go up that tower and stop Gravis, then doesn't that mean Rehn didn't die for nothing? Young as he was, Rehn made the world a better place — or at least he tried to. Whether he succeeds or not... well, that depends a great deal on you, doesn't it? One selfless act leads to another until a chaos of kindness overwhelms the world." Auberon smiled at him.

"It's just a thought, but I find sometimes young men need a reason to carry on. And besides, you're making a disaster out of my pillows." Hadrian sat up and stared at Auberon. He really did look ancient, even for a dwarf, which was saying something. From those he'd seen so far, Hadrian imagined they all looked like little old men by the age of ten. Auberon had the appearance of an ancient oak tree, the sort with deeply grained and gnarled bark whose roots were exposed: twisted and bony. Mostly he looked tired.

"What happened to your family?" Hadrian asked. The dwarf bowed his head and remained silent until Hadrian was certain he wouldn't speak, then the old head came up.

"They were killed because of me. I fought for more than a century. I thought I could change things. All I did was murder some and get others killed. My eldest son joined me in the fight and died young. This broke my wife's heart. She begged me to stop, to walk away, to come here and live a quiet life with her and my last living son. But I was stubborn. I couldn't let it go. I was driven to do something. I had this calling, or maybe it was a sickness, but I believed I had been born to save my people — only I didn't.

I just made everything worse. I'd say my wife and sons paid the price for my madness, but I dunno. You see, because my enemies couldn't catch me, they took my family. Maybe there is a Fate, because I can't think of any other reason I've lived this long, other than to suffer each morning by waking and remembering what I did and didn't do."

"And the calling — the sickness. Is it still there?" The old dwarf stood up and nodded, then as he left, he paused to touch the three-mark symbol on the wall.

"I miss you," he said.

"And I'm sorry." γ As the shadows grew long, Royce and Hadrian were back to hiking through the mini-rainforest and tidal scrublands that made up the northern arm of Terlando Bay. Concerned that Gravis would see a boat and might spot a parade, Royce insisted they go alone. This forced the two of them to carry on their backs everything they would need. To make this easier, the dwarfs had created special sacks with shoulder and waist straps that the dwarfs themselves packed with great care.

Hadrian was amazed at how brilliant the bags were. Each was a good four feet tall and stuffed tight with food and gear, and yet Hadrian barely noticed he had it on. Most of what was inside was new to Hadrian, and he suspected the same was true for Royce.

"Seems like a lot of stuff," Hadrian said as Royce led them down the now-familiar trail.

"Most of it is rope," Royce replied. Hadrian jostled the sack he wore.

"I remember rope being a lot heavier."

"We won't need as much this time, and this rope is different."

"How so?" Royce gave a sour glance back at him.

"It's thin and light."

"You don't like it?" Royce shrugged.

"I tested it, and it works fine, but — I don't know it's... different."

"What do you care? You don't use it. The rope is for me, right?" Royce was quiet for a moment then said, "The other stuff is different, too. You'll see what I mean when you put the harness on. And they made a lot of things — stuff I didn't even ask for. There're these metal hinges with a spring and teeth on them. You squeeze the ends together, stick them in a crevice, and let go and they open up, gripping the rock."

"And that holds you?"

"They say it will." He paused to look back at Hadrian.

"You'll be the first to find out."

"Oh, joy. How wonderful. They are aware I weigh more than a dwarf, right? You told them that, yes?"

"What do you care? You're hoping the second time's the charm."

"I may have changed my mind on that."

"Really? Was it Auberon or the threat of my using the spring hinge?"

"Auberon," Hadrian answered.

"He's a smart guy." He thought about that, then changed his mind.

"Maybe he's just wise."

"There's a difference?" Royce asked.

"I think so. Smart means you know lots of stuff; wise is understanding what to do with the stuff you know." The light was fading fast as they reached the end of the thick brush and exited onto the open scruff of the rocky arm. Everything from this point was rock, sand, grass, mangroves, and the open sea — that and a whole lot of wind. At the far end stood the North Tower. The last rays of the dying sun threw its massive shadow across them and on into the forest. They both took a moment to look up.

The height was dizzying.

"Auberon told us to find a new line of work. Do you remember?" Hadrian asked as they stood together and stared."

'Doesn't have to be fancy. You don't need to make a lot of money — just enough to live a simple life.' Do you remember him saying that?"

"What's your point?" Hadrian nodded at the tower.

"I think climbing that is what he'd classify as fancy."

"I think climbing that is what everyone else would classify as crazy."

"Thank Maribor that everyone else isn't here, then," Hadrian said.