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“Elgee and my nephew Embee, sir, and honored.”
“May I address you as such?” Rainfall asked.
“Of course, sir.”
“Elgee and Embee, this package and the accompanying letter must arrive at the Imperial Library at Thallia intact. Have you been there?”
“I know Thallia well, sir,” Elgee said.
“It is inherently of no great value, but impossible to replace. There should be no danger beyond the usual minor difficulties that go with travel. I would prefer that you go by land rather than water, for the winter winds are coming, and I should hate to lose it to shipwreck.”
“Some thanedoms welcome dwarves better than—,” the smaller one behind said.
Elgee stamped. “No need for that, lad. Sir, you have the word of couriers of the Diadem that it will arrive.”
“Give it to Heloise. If she no longer lives, give it to whoever holds the Hypatian Archive Table-Head. I expect some tokens in return, and would wish you to convey them back here with the same care.”
“Barring delays in Thallia, you should see our masks again before the moon comes about again. Will you write your price and terms?”
The younger dwarf drew a small case from his cloak. Wistala thought it looked like it held paper. The dwarf worked the box, and a fresh length appeared at the top. He offered a quill and ink to his elder, who wrote upon it. He knelt and presented it to Rainfall.
Rainfall read it. “Prices have gone up since I last used your services.”
“The roads have become treacherous,” Elgee countered.
“This covers all expenses?”
“It does. And the bonding: our coin belts shall be yours if aught is lost.”
“Ah, you no longer negotiate each separately. It is acceptable, then. Shall I sign and seal?”
“A signature is all that is necessary from a Knight of the Hypatian Directory, sir,” Elgee said with a short bow.
Rainfall signed the paper revealed at the top of the box. “Ah, how courtly the tongues of the Diadem remain. You should give lessons to your cousins of the Wheel of Fire.”
“They’d rather burn their beards than listen to—,” the younger said with a hiccupping cough that Wistala guessed to be dwarf laughter.
“Keep your tongue behind mask,” Elgee said. “Forgive my nephew, he’s but—”
Rainfall held up his hand. “No, a jest is not out of place after business is concluded. Will you stay and bed this night?”
“Diadem couriers lose not an hour, once commissioned,” Elgee said. “It is written on our cloak-latch. We ride at once. Thank you for your business—and the hot sup. There remains only the portion to be paid.”
“Beneath my chair there is a chest. Would you be so good as to retrieve it?”
The dwarves turned toward each other again; then the younger stepped forward and lifted the small iron box. He passed it to Rainfall, who opened it.
When the accounting was settled, both dwarves bowed low, with more grace than Wistala would have credited them, and Rainfall bowed in return. After his head came back up, the dwarves raised theirs.
“A good journey,” Rainfall said.
“If we are not back by the Winter Solstice, write the Chartered Company and claim your bond. Thank you again.”
With that they left, escorted by Yeo Lessup.
“Wistala, come back. I think there’s one more bit of business, and I want you for this.”
She nosed open the passageway. “Gracious dwarves.”
