1. Meeting
Esvelle did not like the city. Too many people lived too close together. Everything about it was wrong.
It sounded unnatural. A cacophony of conversations, catcalls, complaints and compliments filled the air as merchants of every type yelled about wondrous wares which, mostly, were not wondrous at all. Smiths hammered on anvils. Horses clomped, carts clattered and rattled on hard ground. Pedestrians chattered and heckled.
The pungent odours were alien and, like the streets themselves, crowded to a point where they were incomprehensible. Smells of animals, of cooking, of spices and pomanders assailed her nostrils. The buildings blocked the wind, so the overwhelming miasma hung in the still air. It was a year's worth of scents in an instant, no wonder that city-folk could smell nothing.
The entire place was abnormal. There were neither boulders nor stones, only cobbles and masonry. There were a few lonely trees, but most of the wood was mere timber, the dead remains of once magnificent oaks, or fir. The ground beneath her feet was unnaturally hard and dead, as was the forest of buildings. The city was the place where folk killed the natural and transformed it into unnatural.
After another catcall, Esvelle pulled her cloak even tighter. She took several more paces before realising that the last shout had been in Dwarvish. She looked along the street. The heads of most pedestrians were now at least a foot beneath her. When had that happened? In the forest, she rarely missed anything. Here, she hadn't even noticed the boundary between the human and dwarven parts of the city.
Realising that she must be approaching her destination, she looked up. She'd quickly learned that, because of the lack of meaningful landmarks, because of the confusion and crowding, most of the buildings bore signs. The one she sought was no more than a hundred paces away. A large mattock was fixed to the wall of the solidly built stone structure. Just in case the mining implement itself wasn't enough of a clue for these mindless city-dwellers, the words on the sign swinging beneath the handle confirmed the location of "The Mattock Inn".
The sun was low in the sky. Upon entering the city, Esvelle had convinced herself she'd reach her destination long before dusk. The treacherous, confusing, city had done its best to prove her wrong. She had little time left. Quickening her pace, she headed directly for the door to the inn.
The stone lintel above the door was only inches above her head. This surprised Esvelle as, at five-and-three-quarter feet, she did not consider herself to be tall. Fighting the urge to duck, she pushed open the heavy timber and iron portal and found herself in a tiny hallway. A second, equally solid, door stood two paces ahead. Continuing through it, she stepped into a crowded and noisy bar. Instantly, the noise level plummeted. At least two-score pairs of eyes turned to look at her. None of them were human.
The silver-bearded dwarf standing behind the bar was drying a pewter tankard. Catching her eye, he nodded a greeting. 'Evening, stranger,' he said.
'I'm looking for Gundren Rockseeker,' Esvelle told him.
'Thought so,' the barman nodded sagely. Turning to the barrel behind him, he filled the tankard with a dark and foamy ale and placed it on the bar. 'On Gundren's account,' he assured her. 'Your friends are through there!' He jerked his thumb at a door at the end of the bar. The sign affixed to the door declaring the room to be "Private" was written in the Dwarvish script.
'I...' Caution stopped Esvelle before she'd started to speak. Admitting to the barman, and the crowded and still silent inn, that she didn't have any friends probably wasn't a good idea. She tried again. 'Thank you, good sir.'
The dwarf chuckled at her politeness, turned the tankard so that the handle faced her, and pushed it across the bar. Smiling her thanks, Esvelle took it. The inn's entire clientele watched her stride across the room, open the door he'd indicated, and duck inside.
The room was snug, perhaps a dozen feet along each wall. A fire blazed on the wall to her right. To her left a diamond-paned window showed that the sun had descended below the rooves. The floor was dark and aged timber, the walls and ceiling were whitewashed. The only furniture in the place were; a sturdy rectangular table of fine pale oak, and six matching chairs. Four of the chairs, two on each side of the table, were occupied. To Esvelle's surprise, Gundren Rockseeker was not one of the occupants.
Esvelle looked warily at the quartet of strangers. Like the dwarven denizens of the bar, they had fallen silent when she'd entered. There, however, the resemblance ended.
Unfastening her thick forest-green cloak, Esvelle hung it on one of the pegs next to the door. There were four other cloaks: thin white linen—cheap, and impossible to keep clean—yet somehow it was clean; brown worsted—shorter than the others, earth-coloured and a little shabby—a garment as practical as her own; deep red wool, trimmed with blue thread—good quality, and warm, but a poor colour for the forests, though more practical than white, and finally; dark brown leather—supple, waterproof and good camouflage in the shadows. Esvelle's assessment of the cloaks was almost instantaneous, and one glance at the room's occupants was enough to identify their owners. As she assessed the four women, they assessed her.
Nearest to the window sat a round-faced and buxom dwarf. Her sturdily booted feet were on the table edge and she balanced herself on the two back legs of her chair. The dwarf's surprisingly bright blonde hair was tied in bunches, and she had a tankard of ale pressed to her lips. Like Esvelle herself, she wore tight leather breeches. Her bodice was also of tightly laced leather. She wore it over a low-cut white blouse that strained to contain its contents. Esvelle stared at the dwarf's chest for a moment, not certain that she had glimpsed the silver. A battleaxe rested against the table at the dwarf's side.
The young woman sitting beyond the dwarf was slender, pale-skinned, and human. Her long, dark red, hair was tightly plaited. The redhead wore a patchwork of dark leathers laced up to her neck. An ornate dagger was strapped across her chest, just below her breasts. There was an assessing look in the woman's cold green eyes as they met Esvelle's. Like the dwarf, she had a tankard in her hand, raising it to Esvelle and creasing her lips into something passably like a smile, she drank.
Disconcerted, Esvelle turned her attention to the other side of the table.
Opposite the leather-clad woman sat a graceful and elegant elf. Her dark hair was cut into a neat bob. The shining nut-brown hair framed a narrow face and showed off a pale and slender neck. The elf's ornately embroidered, blue trimmed red robes were cut low, but they displayed her charms with much more discretion than did the dwarf's blouse. A feathered hat, matching the robes and cloak, sat on the table in front of her. Her tankard of ale was on the table, almost untouched. She acknowledged Esvelle with a brief nod and a dazzling smile.
The woman next to the elf, and opposite the dwarf, could only be from one of the southern lands. Her thick black hair was bound into dozens of braids and her skin was the darkest of browns. Her white robes were outlandish in their cut. Unsurprising, as she was an outlander. The white she wore was a striking contrast against her skin. As Esvelle's gaze finally reached her, the outlander spoke.
'How many more, I wonder?' she addressed the question to the room. Her voice was rich, dark, and deep.
The dwarf gulped down the last of her ale, dropped her feet from the table edge, and allowed her chair to fall back onto all four legs. She slammed her tankard down on the table at the same instant the chair legs hit the floor. In the silence following her action, she stared into Esvelle's eyes and asked, 'When did you fuck Gundren?'
The "when" in her question startled Esvelle. It gave the enquiry a certainty. The blonde dwarf knew. But how?
'I... What?' Esvelle stuttered.
'Take a seat, sister,' the elf suggested, her voice soft and gentle. 'Let's talk, while we all wait for our former lover.'
As she processed that information, Esvelle walked around the table. She had been left the choice of two unoccupied chairs. Nearest to her was the end of the table closest to the door. Had she chosen it, Esvelle would not have been able to see anyone entering the room. She moved across the room.
Walking behind the dwarf, Esvelle took the opportunity to look down the blonde's cleavage. Her suspicions confirmed, she moved on to the seat she'd chosen at the head of the table. Sitting between leather-clad red-head and red-robed elf, she found herself unable to relax. Did they all have a letter from Gundren? Were they all, as the elf claimed, his lovers?
Putting her slander hands around the almost untouched tankard in front of her, the elf glanced at the others, then spoke. 'We have already introduced ourselves, but it seems we must do it again. My name is Olliena Neillo. I serve Sune, goddess of love and light. I met Gundren thirty years ago. We sailed into this city on the same ship. We became lovers on that journey and stayed together for a several years. It's been more than one score years since I last saw him. That was the day I entered the abbey. A week ago, Gundren sent a letter to my abbess, offering me a mission. For some time, my abbess and I had disagreed on certain aspects of the doctrine of my order. The abbess released me, and here I am.'
The dark-skinned woman leaned forwards, and Esvelle wondered how her breasts hadn't slipped from the strips of white cloth that barely restrained them. As she stared, she saw a faint outline in the cloth.
'I am Alarna Ambelez,' the woman began. 'I met Gundren seven years ago, far to the south. I wanted... I wanted shelter. I found a friend and lover. He brought me here. His family, however, did not approve. Fortunately for me, he had noticed my talents...'
'We've all noticed your talents, they're falling out of those robes you wear,' the dwarf interrupted.
'As are yours, dwarf,' Alarna riposted. 'Gundren noticed my magical talents, and he sponsored me. When I received his letter last week, I had not long since completed my spell book.' She paused and reconsidered her words. 'At least, I had learned all the spells my tutor was prepared to share with me. I need cash, Gundren promised it. Here I am.' She stared across the table. 'Now is your turn to speak, dwarf.'
'Urthidda Urrunhek, Axe-woman,' the blonde dwarf announced. 'Gundren tells people he seduced me. Not true; I seduced him, though I was little more than a child at the time—only forty! That was fifteen years ago. His was the first cock I ever had.' Esvelle's eyes widened. Urthidda grinned. 'What? Do I make you uncomfortable? Why? We've all seen his mining tool, squeezed that rod between our thighs, haven't we?' She nodded in agreement with herself. 'It seems he liked to spread himself around. But what I want to know is why us, and why now? Why gather us all together like this?' She turned to the redhead. 'Wait until he gets here. Between us, we'll be able to make him squirm, won't we? Your turn, lass.'
The leather-clad woman waited a few moments before filling the silence. 'Folk call me Ivrani Marinov,' she began briskly. 'Three years ago, I got into a little trouble with the guild—I'm sure you don't need me to tell you which guild.' She gave a brief wink.
Ivrani's voice was soft and pleasant, and she was much better-spoken than Esvelle expected. Her diction was almost that of a noble but, given that she'd all but admitted membership of the thieves' guild, that seemed unlikely.
'Gundren helped me out, and we became close.' Ivrani continued, 'It was only for a few weeks,' she glanced across at dark-skinned, Alarna. 'As you observed, his family did not approve of his interest in she-humans.' She shrugged. 'Thanks to Gundren, I've been in good standing with the guild since then. Unfortunately, my recent—let's call it friendship—with the Guildmaster's mistress proved to be my downfall. It was exposed to him by... But that's another story. I'm out of favour, and an expeditious exit from the city is the most sensible course of action for me. Thankfully, Gundren's letter was delivered at exactly the right moment. A job outside the city, and some ready cash, are exactly what I need.'
The four women turned and stared expectantly at Esvelle. Despite the pressure of their gaze, she decided to tell them as little as possible.
'Winter just gone, I walked into a goblin camp. Might have died. Didn't. Gundren and his brothers rescued me,' she told them.
'So, you've met sweet Nundro and big Tharden, too!' The dwarf, Urthidda, grinned. 'Did you have 'em all? I did, though not at the same time. Tharden was willing, his brothers preferred exclusive.'
'Let Esvelle finish her tale, Urthidda, Alarna interjected. 'You can tell us of your conquests later.'
'If we want to listen to them,' Ivrani observed dryly.
'Conquests?' Urthidda shook her head. 'Not conquests! I'm just free from a dozen years of soldiering, I know what conquests are. What I had with the Rockseeker brothers were skirmishes, no more. Let me give you some advice, lass. Take your pleasures whenever, and wherever, you can. Treat every day as though it might be your last, because there's a chance it could be. Don't die wishing you'd shagged someone. Shag 'em!'
'What makes you think I don't?' Ivrani replied.
'Interesting!' The dwarf grinned at the woman at her side, then turned her attention to the dark-skinned woman opposite. 'But you're right, Alarna, I'm interrupting Esvelle's tale.' She returned her gaze to Esvelle. 'So, lass, did all three brothers pork you, too?'
Blushing, Esvelle shook her head. 'It's five months since Gundren and his kinfolk rescued me. Two months later he was gone. He and his brothers went off on some foolish errand, told me they'd got a map that would lead them to some fabled lost mine. They asked me to go with them, but I said no.'
'Lost mine?' Urthidda gave another chuckle. 'Exploring richly rewarding crevices again! Gundren's always been keen on going down, if you take my meaning. Where is he now, that's what I want to know.'
'His instructions were for me to be here before dusk,' said Olliena.
'And me,' Esvelle admitted.
'All of us?' Alarna enquired. Urthidda and Ivrena nodded.
'The sun has vanished,' Esvelle observed. 'Perhaps he'll be here soon.'
'Perhaps he's waiting until nightfall, till after we've met. He may want to wait to see if we're going to kill each other,' Ivrani suggested.
'Why would we kill each other?' Alarna asked. 'He wasn't the first, and there have been others since.'
Olliena nodded. 'I can't speak for the rest of you,' the elf observed, 'but Gundren and I parted as friends, not lovers. I bear him no ill will.'
'Nor I,' Urthidda agreed. 'Though I wouldn't turn down the opportunity to bounce on his cock again, for old time's sake.'
'I suppose...' Ivrani began.
Esvelle didn't find out what the leather-clad redhead supposed, because the door opened and she fell silent. The dwarf who entered wasn't Gundren, but the grey-bearded barman. He carried a tray on which were five steaming bowls and a large plate piled high with flatbreads.
'Instructions from Gundren,' the dwarf told them. 'I'm to feed you at sunset. Here's a rabbit stew and fresh-baked herb-bread for your dinner.' He walked around the table, placing a bowl of stew in front of each of woman before setting the plate of bread in the centre of the table.
'There's a room for you here tonight, too,' the dwarf told them. 'Though he only asked for four cots. I'll get a fifth.' The elderly dwarf tugged nervously at his beard. 'I don't think he expected so many of you. "I've sent messages to some lasses I know, Dragomir." That's me, Dragomir Brassglint, owner and landlord of this fine inn.' The dwarf halted, and again tugged his beard. 'Where was I? Oh, yes. He told me: "Might be two, likely three or four. I sent messages to eight. I hope that at least one of my fine ladies will arrive." Anyways, he left coin on account, and paid for a room for you to share, with breakfast, too. Eat! My food is good, my kitchen is clean, and my ale is, in my opinion, the best in the city. I'll bring you each a second tankard, shall I?'
'How much ale can we get on Gundren's account?' Urthidda asked, shamelessly.
'And where is he?' Esvelle added.
Dragomir scratched his head, calculating what remained of Gundren's coin. 'Four tankards each,' he told Urthidda.
'I won't require four,' said Olliena.
'Nor I,' said Alarna.
'All the more for me,' said Urthidda happily.
Shrugging, Dragomir turned his attention to Esvelle. 'I've no idea where Gundren is, madam. He told me he'd give you time to eat, and that his representative would arrive later, to explain his proposition. I'll bring you five more ales to be getting on with, shall I?'
'Yes,' Urthidda said firmly. Olliena and Alarna exchanged a glance but said nothing. As he left the room, Urthidda reached for a flatbread, dipped it into her stew, and took a bite.
'Good stew, fine bread,' she told Dragomir.
'Thank you, sergeant,' the landlord acknowledged the complement with a salute.
Olliena picked the spoon from her bowl, took a dainty sip, and nodded her agreement.
'So,' Ivrani took a flatbread from the plate, broke it in half, moved to put it on a non-existent side plate, realised her error, and balanced it on the side of the stew bowl. 'We have a cleric,' she glanced at Olliena, who inclined her head. 'A mage.' After a curt nod, Alarna curled her hand around her bowl, and began spooning the stew into her mouth with surprising speed. 'A warrior.' Urthidda grunted, and grabbed her second flatbread. Alarna watched, she was keeping count of the bread.
'And me!' Ivrani said. She turned to Esvelle. 'What talents do you bring to this group?' she demanded.
'I'm good with a bow, and I know the forests,' Esvelle told her.
'Ranger,' Olliena announced.
As the elf leant forwards to interject that observation, her gown gaped open. Esvelle caught a glint of silver on the cleric's breast. The door opened, Olliena sat upright, and everyone again fell silent. Dragomir placed a second tankard of foaming ale in front of each woman in turn.
'Ladies,' he said as he scooped up the only empty tankard on the table, Urthidda's.
'Our thanks, landlord,' Ivrani said.
'Fine ale indeed,' Urthidda called after him as he left.
Lifting her second tankard, Urthidda drank. When she replaced it on the table, it was half empty. Olliena silently pushed her own second tankard across the table to the dwarf, who grinned. Alarna was eating as though she was afraid someone might take the food from her before she'd finished.
'No matter what it is, I'm prepared to undertake this task for Gundren,' Olliena announced between mouthfuls. 'I hope you'll all join me, as I believe we'll make a good team. He has, perhaps, used an unusual way to choose his associates, but—speaking for myself—Gundren always proved himself honest and trustworthy.'
'With me, also.' As she spoke, Alarna grabbed a flatbread and began mopping up the last of her gravy with it.
'And discrete, in my experience,' Ivrani added.
'And kind,' Esvelle observed, taking a long drink of the heady dark ale.
'True, enough.' Urthidda sounded surprisingly introspective. 'Despite the fact that none o' ye are good honest dwarves, I'm inclined to trust you all. Strange! It seems to me that, other than a familiarity with Gundren's glorious todger, we have nothing in common.'
Esvelle, feeling emboldened by the ale, unlaced her bodice. 'I believe there is another thing we share,' she told them. Pulling the bodice aside, she exposed her left breast, displaying the wrought silver nipple crown she wore. 'When we parted, Gundren gave me this. Then, I thought it a touching and exclusive gift. Now, I know otherwise.'
Urthidda snorted with laughter, dribbled rabbit stew down her chin, and pulled down her bodice to expose her own left breast.
'You have a keen eye, Esvelle,' Olliena observed. She pulled open her robes to reveal an identical nipple ring.
After dropping the flatbread into her bowl, and grasping the bowl tightly in her left hand, Alarna pulled the white band up from her left breast. The jewellery was identical. All four women looked at Ivrani.
'I have one, too,' Ivrani admitted. The redhead seemed disinclined to expose herself. Esvelle assumed that it was because she'd have to begin unlacing her leather tunic at the neck. The other women continued to stare. Sighing, Ivrani reached down to the laces. It was then that the door opened.
'I'm a little early, but... Oh my!'
The dwarf who had opened the door had a short, neatly trimmed beard. Esvelle had no time to register anything else about him, because he backed out of the door and closed it with a crash. Blushing, she covered herself up. Her laughing companions did the same, at least Olliena and Alarna did. Ivrani moved her hand from her neck, a grateful expression on her face. For a moment, it seemed to Esvelle that Urthidda was preparing to bare her other breast. However, after a moment's consideration, the dwarf covered herself up.
'Who?' Esvelle began.
There was a knock at the door.
'We're about to find out,' Olliena said. She raised her voice. 'Enter!'
The dwarf re-entered the room, blushing furiously. 'Pardon, ladies, a thousand pardons. I... I should have knocked.'
His hair was short and dark, as was his beard. His face was pleasant, and his rather prominent nose straight and narrow. Esvelle wondered if any of the others could see the ghost of a resemblance to Gundren in his features.
She exchanged a glance with her new companions. They could, Esvelle was certain of it. Urthidda was about to speak, to make some lewd remark, but Alarna, Ivrina and Olliena were all broadcasting a "stay silent, make him squirm," expression. To Esvelle's surprise, it worked. The dwarf said nothing.
The interloper's red face got even redder under their silent scrutiny, and Esvelle felt empowered. They had the upper hand. This random group of strangers were the power in the room.
'I...' his next attempt at speech came out as a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. 'I am Harbek...'
'Rockseeker,' all five women spoke in unison, and the dwarf's fading blush was replaced by a surprised expression.
'I am Harbek Rockseeker,' the dwarf agreed. 'Gundren is my cousin...'
'And he's too frightened to visit us in person,' Urthidda suggested.
'No, no, not at all,' Harbek protested. 'Gundren has urgent business. He has had to leave the city with his companion. He has given me the... the honour of being his intermediary with you... you most noble and talented of ladies. I am to...'
'Male or female?' Olliena asked.
'Your pardon, lady?' Harbek looked puzzled by the question.
'Your cousin Gundren's companion,' Alarna evplained. 'Male or female.'
'Male, madam,' Harbek said. 'A human named Sildar Hallwinter.'
'Sildar!' Olliena exclaimed. 'An eager young man. I knew him, briefly, after Gundren and I parted. Before I entered the abbey.'
Esvelle was in no doubt as to exactly how well the elf knew this Sildar person. Silence fell once again, as Harbek waited to see if there were more questions. When it became obvious that no one else intended to speak, he continued.
'I am here, on Gundren's behalf, to tell you of your mission,' Harbek told them.
Pulling a sealed letter from the pouch at his belt, he broke the seal, unfolded the parchment, and began to read.
'Friends,' he began. 'You are here because I know you...'
'Intimately,' Ivrani observed dryly.
'Because... because I know you and trust you.' Although he was, once again, blushing, Harbek pressed on determinedly. 'My friend Dragomir holds a cart at this, his inn for me. It contains supplies that must be delivered to Elmar Barthen in the town of Phandalin. Elmar will pay ten gold crowns to each of you upon their safe delivery. I had hoped to meet you here, to travel with you to Phandalin. However, things are moving quickly. I must make haste to Phandalin, to my brothers. Upon your arrival, seek me out at the Stonehill Inn. I look forward to meeting you. Rest assured that I will have more work for you. With luck, we will all be rich.'
Harbek paused for a moment, then nervously licked his lips. Taking a deep breath, he continued. 'I cannot know how many of you will answer this call. I do know that none of you are fools. By now, no doubt, you will have discovered your connection. Whether that will bring you together or drive you apart, I do not know. For one it has been mere months since we parted. For others, it is decades. Perhaps you have forgotten me.'
'Unlikely before, impossible now,' observed Alarna with a smile.
Harbek again waited to see if anyone else wanted to speak before resuming his reading. 'The journey to Phandalin will take you three days, possibly more. It may be dangerous, so please take care. I leave you in the capable hands of my cousin, Harbek. He alone has authority to release the wagon to you. Ask him anything. Your friend, Gundren Rockseeker.'
'What's he found?' Olliena's question was asked before Harbek could draw breath.
'A long-lost mine, or so he claims,' Harbek said. 'He's told the clan no more than that, so I cannot answer further.'
'Exactly how capable are your hands, Harbek?' Urthidda asked. 'And are you staying at the inn tonight?'
'I... I have the... the room next... next to yours, ladies,' Harbek replied to everyone, not simply Urthidda. 'If cousin Gundren believes me capable... Well... Those are his words, not mine.'
'There are still fifteen tankards of ale at the bar, on Gundren's account, Harbek.' Urthidda smiled sweetly as she spoke. 'Won't you join us?'
'We... You... don't have to drink his account dry,' Harbek was hesitant in his suggestion.
'We do,' said Ivrani, downing the remaining contents of her second tankard and picking up the third.
'Stay, sit, drink with us,' Urthidda said.
'We may have more questions for you,' Alarna added.
Harbek gulped, loosened his collar, and nodded.