Tungdil kept his mouth shut for fear of saying something he might regret. He helped himself to more beer and emptied the tankard in a single draft. "And did you find anything?"

"Not exactly," the high king confessed. "That's why we're asking you to join our conspiracy and challenge Gandogar for the throne."

"What good would it do?" Tungdil shrugged. "They'd never elect me."

"No," agreed Gundrabur, "but if I'm not happy with the assembly's choice of heir, I can veto the succession."

"And what then? Would you rather our folks fought each other than waged war on the elves?"

"It won't come to that," Balendilнn reassured him. "Our laws state that the heir must challenge his rival to a duel. Of course, the rival candidate would have to be backed by some of the chieftains and elders, but roughly a third of the delegates have been won over to our cause. That should suffice."

"And then Gandogar will have the privilege of slicing me in two." Tungdil scowled. "I still don't see how it changes anything."

The high king and his counselor exchanged glances.

"Swear that you won't breathe a word of this to anyone," Balendilнn demanded, eyeing Tungdil solemnly until he complied. "We need to banish Bislipur and Sverd from Gandogar's circle. Bislipur is obsessed with the idea of wiping out the elves and his zeal has rubbed off on Gandogar. Thanks to Bislipur's constant whispering, the fourthling king rarely has time to think for himself." He frowned. "The villain tried to kill me. I can't prove it yet, but I will."

"But assuming you succeed," Tungdil said doubtfully, "won't Gandogar still go ahead with his plan?"

"We'll open his eyes to the perfidy of his mentor and the folly of an elven war. Gandogar is a good dwarf at heart; his adviser is to blame." Balendilнn paused and looked at Tungdil intently. "But I need more time; and for that we're depending on your help."

"You'll be doing your kinsmen a great service," Gundrabur assured him. "They'll realize it eventually. History will record how a foundling dwarf named Tungdil was hewn by Vraccas to save his children from destruction."

"I'll do it," agreed Tungdil, "but I'll need your full support."

"We'll do everything we can for you," promised Balendilнn. "You're an honorable dwarf, Tungdil. Forgive us for burdening you with our troubles before you've even had a chance to rest. Now that we've settled the important business, you should get some proper sleep. You'll have one orbit in which to recover and prepare yourself for the hustings." The one-armed counselor smiled at him encouragingly.

"Buy us some time, and we'll forge a better future without the likes of Bislipur," the high king exhorted him. He picked up the ceremonial hammer and held it out to the dwarf. "Swear on the hammer that brought us into being that you won't tell a soul."

Tungdil gave his word and left the great hall. Outside, Andфkai and Djerun were still waiting in the corridor.

"They said we could stay for a while," she said evenly. "As it happens, I could do with a break. These past few orbits together have been horribly stressful."

"My sentiments exactly," said Tungdil, leaving the maga to decide whether it was the journey or her company that he found such a trial.

An attendant arrived to take them to their rooms. As they followed, Tungdil marveled at the splendor of their surroundings. The masons had worked the walls with incredible finesse and the smooth surfaces were decorated with sculpted reliefs and chiseled inscriptions. Dwarven runes inlaid with precious metals shimmered in a kaleidoscope of silver, gold, and red.

But what really caught his attention was the staircase. He had always thought of steps as being rectangular, smooth, and plain.

These were a revelation. Each slab of stone was different from the next, the flat treads decorated with elaborate patterns and the uprights engraved with runes.

It was only when he read the runes in sequence that he realized the purpose of the design: The staircases spelled out stories that served to distract the weary secondlings from the grueling ascent. Tungdil could tell from Andфkai's expression that she too had noticed the runes and was reading with interest.

The stories told of glorious days of old, evoking heroic adventures, each more impressive than the last. Tungdil climbed eagerly, relishing every step until at length they reached their chambers.

Andфkai disappeared inside her room before he could inquire about the books. He was sure that her change of heart was connected to something she had seen or read.

Maybe Gundrabur will be lucky, he thought hopefully as he shuffled to bed.

That's the beauty of being among friends," said a deep voice. "You don't even have to lock the door."

Tungdil woke with a start and sat up drowsily, only to discover Bislipur in his room.

"Good morning, Tungdil." Somehow the greeting sounded suspiciously insincere. "We'll talk properly at the hustings, but I'm sure you're as impatient as I am to have a little chat."

"I wasn't really expecting visitors," Tungdil said hesitantly. The sudden appearance of Gandogar's adviser had thrown him slightly. In fact, now that he thought about it properly, walking in without an invitation was downright rude. His friendly feelings toward Bislipur as a kinsman had withstood their bristly encounter in the great hall, but this was something else.

Bislipur sat down on the bed and gave him a long stare. "You think you're one of us, do you?" he mocked. "A poor little foundling, raised by a wizard, but of genuine royal blood-it sounds like a fairy tale, doesn't it?" He leaned forward. "Because it is! I'm not going to beat about the bush: You're an impostor. What proof do you have of your lineage?"

"You'll see soon enough," Tungdil said firmly. If it hadn't been for his conversation with Gundrabur and Balendilнn, he would have stepped aside for his rival. Only last night he had been assailed by doubts about the wisdom of maintaining the deception, but now, thanks to Bislipur's obnoxious behavior, his mind was made up.

"None of the fourthlings can remember a case of a missing child."

"And I suppose you know them all in person and every detail of their lives. That's really quite a claim." Tungdil stood up. He had a feeling that the long hours spent reading in Lot-Ionan's library and studying the art of disputation would stand him in good stead. All of a sudden he felt naked without his chain mail and his weapon. He threw on his tunic and belted his ax to his waist. His confidence flooded back. "Wait until tomorrow and you'll hear the full story."

"I've got a better idea," said Bislipur. "Cancel the hustings, and we'll adopt you as one of our folk. All we ask is that you agree to back Gandogar. Retract your claim and you'll never want for anything."

"Supposing I refuse?"

"Supposing you refuse?" Bislipur laid a muscular hand on his ax. "If you refuse, you'll see what happens when a fourthling-or a fake fourthling, in your case-turns against the leader of his folk. None of us will submit to your rule. Even if you're elected, you'll never really be king."

Tungdil could tell from the muffled fury in his voice that Bislipur meant business. "That's for the assembly to decide, not you," he informed him, doing his best to sound like a prospective monarch. "Now go," he commanded.

"Supposing I refuse?" the thick-set dwarf said mockingly.

"Supposing you refuse?" thundered Tungdil, placing a hand on his ax. "If you refuse, I'll throw you out myself! I've dealt with enough orcs and дlfar to know what to do with a dwarf who sneaks his way into my chamber while I'm asleep." His brotherly tolerance of Bislipur had given way to undisguised dislike. "Get out!"

Bislipur wavered for a moment, unsure whether he should commit to a trial of strength. To Tungdil's relief, he decided to see himself out. "You'll regret this," he threatened by way of a farewell.