“Possibly,” Aefric said. “But more likely, we’re within range of a warding’s detection.”

  “We’ve been here for hours,” Ser Yrsa said. “If we tripped an alarm, we should’ve known before now.”

  “Not necessarily,” Aefric said. “Too many factors. Could be a time-of-night issue. The stone men didn’t need light to see. And afterwards, if they’d won, anyone looking down from the ridge above would never have seen the aftermath of the slaughter.”

  “They’d’ve seen the bodies come morning,” Ser Yrsa said. “No way our scouts would miss them.”

  “They might,” Aefric said. “If they were more interested in watching the ridge on Silverlake’s side than in looking into the chasm itself.”

  Ser Yrsa opened her mouth to object, but Aefric pushed ahead to finish his point first.

  “Besides,” Aefric said. “We don’t know the full orders those stone men had. They might haul away bodies, leaving only blood. And since they bludgeon instead of carving up their enemies, the slaughter might not leave enough blood to attract a scout’s attention. Especially if seen through a spyglass.”

  “Fair enough,” Ser Yrsa said. “And it’s not as though anyone casually comes down here.” She nodded. “I’ll gather some of the troops and check it out.”

  “No,” Aefric said, then raised both hands before his knights could object to what they had to know was coming. “Yes, I’m going. No, you can’t talk me out of it. Magic’s involved, and I’m the only one of us who could sense it, let alone defeat it.”

  “You’re not going alone,” Ser Beornric said with an air of finality.

  “No,” Aefric agreed. “Of course not. You two will come, and the knights, and Po’rek and Ge’rek, if they’re willing.”

  “You chief,” Ge’rek said simply. “Us come.”

  Both borogs stamped their feet.

  Aefric suspected that the right thing to say in response would be, “And the dark swallows all.” But he couldn’t bring himself to say those words. Not even in Borog.

  At the moment, they sounded too much like prophecy.

  Aefric’s knights were so eager to come along to investigate the source of the stone men, they might’ve gone even had Aefric stayed behind.

  He suspected that they were disappointed to have missed most of the fight against the stone men. It was over before most of them had their armor on.

  The soldiers had been standing guard, not the knights. The right of rank, Aefric supposed. And the soldiers had slept in their chainmail. Habit of campaigning, most likely.

  Those details had left the soldiers doing the fighting. And the dying.

  The first part of that, Aefric was proud of. His men and women hadn’t hesitated. Not even in the face of an inhuman enemy that they couldn’t seem to hurt.

  But the latter part. That he hated. Good men and women had died that night. And more good men and women might die from their wounds, before he could get them to proper aid.

  “We do something like this again,” Aefric said, gesturing to the Dragonscar at large, “we bring a healer next time.”

  “Yes, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said. “I’ve had the same thought. It’s just that healers are in short supply right now. And I’m afraid I honestly expected this trip to be uneventful. I’ll know better in the future.”

  Ser Beornric said something quiet to her, and Ser Yrsa snorted a dark laugh and thumped him on the shoulder.

  Aefric suspected he didn’t want to hear that joke.

  With the knights and the borogs gathered, they set out, with Aefric’s staff providing light.

  They didn’t have to go far. Not more than a few hundred feet father down the Dragonscar were another set of caves. Not mere indentations, either. Three deep-looking caves on the south side — the Deepwater side — and two others on the north, Silverlake side.

  Po’rek and Ge’rek both pointed to the middle cave on the righthand side.

  “Much much gold there,” Po’rek said, then pointed to the first cave on the right. “Much gold there.” Po’rek turned and pointed at the righthand cave on the Silverlake side. “Gold there too.”

  Aefric looked at Ge’rek for confirmation, but Ge’rek snorted.

  “Po’rek … smell … strong.”

  Two of Aefric’s knights snorted a laugh at that, but he didn’t bother looking to see which ones. He even understood the joke. The musky smell of the borogs was strong, if dry, even when they were left to their own devices. But these two had been imprisoned on a ship for some time.

  They were more than a little rank. Fortunately, the constant sea wind had helped Aefric ignore that fact much of the time.

  The point was made anyway. Po’rek had a better sense of smell than Ge’rek.

  “Take up guard positions,” Aefric said. “I’m going to see if there’s any magic here.”

  The knights and borogs surrounded him, but leaving Aefric enough room to maneuver. He hoped they weren’t watching. They’d be disappointed. There wasn’t much to see.

  All he really did was shift his attention to that part of him that could detect the presence of magic. He’d had that ability as far back as he remembered. Didn’t take any effort, really. In fact, if there was anything obvious coming from the area, he’d know it already.

  There wasn’t.

  But there might be something subtle. And that required focused attention.

  So Aefric relaxed. And he breathed. And he stretched out with that part of himself that could detect the presence of magic.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  Something.

  It wasn’t much. Just a faint tingle. And it was coming from the cave of much much gold, according to Po’rek.

  Aefric gently reached out with his awareness toward that cave.

  He quickly determined three things.

  First, that there was a ward of detection at the mouth of that cave. Second, that the ward had been part of a bigger spell, the rest of which had been collapsed. And third, that the ward had been cast by the same wizard who had created the stone simulacra.

  The collapsed spell had been a larger detection spell that triggered a response. That had to be the stone men, and their attack.

  But that wouldn’t make sense. Why attack people who had yet to discover the gold? That would just be telling them there was something down here worth defending.

  “How sure are we that people don’t come down here?” Aefric asked.

  “Reasonably,” Ser Yrsa said. “Every scouting report I’ve seen that detailed the floor of the Dragonscar was more than a century old. And as I said before. None of the more recent scouts along the ridge ever spotted activity down here. So apart from whoever created the stone men, we might be the first ones in this part of the Dragonscar in … fifty years? A hundred?”

  “Beg pardon, General,” Ser Wardius said, “but I’ve been down here before.”

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  Although all of Aefric’s knights had scars, none were as scarred as wiry Ser Wardius. And not just the jagged scars on both cheeks. He was missing the tip of his nose and the small finger of his left hand. And when he wasn’t wearing his gauntlets, his hands showed more scarring than they did tanned skin.

  “Oh?” Ser Yrsa said, in tones that implied Ser Wardius better have an excellent explanation.

  Though whether the knight had to explain why he’d been down here or why he hadn’t mentioned it before, Aefric wasn’t certain.

  “I grew up in the town of Greatcatch,” Ser Wardius said, then shook his head. “Sea devils wiped it out during the wars, but it used to be only an hour south of the Dragonscar, as you ride along the coast.”

  Ser Wardius looked lost in memory now.

  “To us kids growing up in Greatcatch, the Dragonscar was the most haunted place in the world. Used to dare each other just to set foot in it. The braver of us, we’d come up here in twos and threes with some food, have a little picnic down near the water. Shelter in a couple of those hollow dents some might call caves.

  “Always had to be the best, in those days,” he said, shaking his head. “That was me. Certain I’d live forever. So I got me a pliant horse and all the food I could carry. And I rode this old Dragonscar from one end to the other.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me you plucked a bone off the dragon’s skeleton,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “No, ser,” Ser Wardius said. “I wasted a good day and a good knife trying, but those bones wouldn’t come loose. So instead I climbed up the ribs and pissed off the skull.”

  Even the borogs laughed at that, and borog laughter was a chuffing kind of sound.

  “So you’ve been through here,” Aefric said, “but all alone.”

  “Yes, your grace,” Ser Wardius said. “I’d’ve told you before, but I didn’t think it mattered. When I came through last time, I didn’t meet anyone or anything. I livened up the story for my friends, of course. Talked about ghosts and running from borogs.”

  He looked at the borogs. “No offense.”

  They didn’t even acknowledge the statement, which demonstrated that it didn’t bother them.

  Ser Wardius shrugged. “Truth was, it was a boring ride, last time. Figured it’d be the same this time.”

  “Hmmm,” Aefric said. “Could be that no one else’s done it since—”

  “Oh, another dozen kids did it, your grace,” Ser Wardius said. “Likely more. Once I came back alive. Became a right of passage.”

  “But Greatcatch is gone,” Aefric said. “So likely no one’s made that ride since it fell.”

  “If I were those smugglers,” Ser Beornric said, “I’d want to ride at least a day’s travel into the Dragonscar. Maybe two or three. Make sure there weren’t any surprises waiting for me.”

  “How many would you send?”

  “Handful, at most,” Ser Beornric said quickly. “Hug one side of the chasm, to keep from getting spotted.”

  “I agree,” Ser Yrsa said. “No way those smugglers, or some other sailors, haven’t been here. Might even have been the ones casting the spell.”

  “That wizard in green,” Ser Beornric started to say, but let his words trail off when Aefric shook his head.

  “No,” Aefric said. “I’d’ve recognized his magic. So, that detection spell. It couldn’t have triggered for the smugglers, or they wouldn’t be using this place.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Numbers. Has to be a numbers game. We came through here with more than forty.”

  “You think they weren’t worried about anything less than a small company of troops?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “I think they were worried about enough people to set up a first mining foray,” Aefric said. “Someone doesn’t want anyone else digging up that gold. The question is who?”

  Once back at camp, Aefric took time to honor the dead, and talk to the wounded. He did what he could to ease their suffering, as well as thank them for their quick rallying to the defense of the camp.

  But there was more. Aefric wanted to make sure his troops understood that their duke’s top priorities right now were to get the living back alive for healing, and to bring the dead back for burial.

  And he wanted them to know that, once those things were accomplished, he intended to find out who had been behind that attack, and make them pay for the lives they’d taken.

  Not just words, either. Gold was a good discovery, but Aefric didn’t like the price he’d paid for that discovery.

  He would find the source of those stone simulacra. And he would make that person pay. And anyone else who’d been involved.

  After he’d given every wounded soldier some of his time, Aefric gathered with his knights again at the edge of the firelight to discuss what needed to be done. The two borogs lingered nearby, listening.

  “We have no choice but to turn back,” Ser Yrsa said.

  “I agree,” Aefric said. “We have too many dead already. I have no desire to see our wounded add to that number. We leave at dawn.”

  “What about the gold?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “We’ll have to come back for it,” Aefric said, “when we can.”

  “But if the stone men’s master knows we’ve been here, they may do something else. Set up an even deadlier trap.”

  “We could leave the scouts,” Ser Yrsa said. “They could watch from up on the ridge, and they’re good at living off the land. They’ll get word to us if there’s a problem.”

  “Us stay,” Ge’rek said.

  “By yourselves?” Aefric asked in disbelief.

  “God metal,” Ge’rek said with a snort.

  Aefric was starting to think there was a whole portion of the Borog language that could only be spoken by someone with a nose capable of such expressive snorting. They seemed to use snorts to mean at least a dozen different things.

  “Chief speak us dig god metal,” Po’rek explained. “God metal here. Dig here.”

  Both snorted.

  “But you have no tools,” Ser Beornric said. “I mean, we can give you a couple of camp shovels, but they’re hardly—”

  They snorted again, and stamped their feet.

  “We can’t leave you much food,” Ser Yrsa pointed out.

  More snorting and stamping.

  “I won’t have you starve to death,” Aefric said. “Not in my service.”

  The borogs spoke quietly to each other for a moment.

  “What … starve?” Ge’rek asked.

  “Starving is dying because you don’t eat,” Aefric said.

  The borogs chuffed laughter.

  “Us dig,” Ge’rek said. “Find food.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “And the dark swallows all,” Po’rek added, and Ge’rek stomped for emphasis.

  Aefric wanted to ask for confirmation one more time, but after hearing that borog saying, he knew there was no point.

  “All right then,” he said, and led them back toward the caves, with the knights in tow. He lit the way with the yellow diamond atop his staff, but he kept its shine down to the dim glow of candlelight for now.

  He pointed to the first cave on the righthand side, where Po’rek had said there was “much gold.”

  “You start digging there,” he said.

  He pointed to the second cave, where Po’rek had said there was “much much gold.”

  “Do not dig there until I say dig there. Do not even enter.”

  The borogs hesitated, so Aefric stamped his foot.

  They gave their shoulders a quick duck in submission.

  Ge’rek pointed to the first cave and said, “Us dig there. Not dig other caves.”

  “No,” Po’rek corrected. Pointed at the first cave. “Chief say dig there. Us go there. Dig. When chief say ‘dig there’” — Po’rek pointed at the second cave — “us go there. Dig there. When chief say.”

  “Let’s stick to that for now,” Aefric said, and both borogs snorted agreement.

  “Us dig tonight,” Ge’rek said. “Sleep when fire eye high.”

  “Kre,” Po’rek said, by way of agreement, and they both started into the first cave.

  “You don’t need anything else first?” Aefric asked. “Some sleep? Some food? Anything?”

  They both made a show of slowly shaking their heads, then turned and went together into the first cave.

  “They must know what they’re doing,” Ser Yrsa said, sounding as amazed as Aefric felt, at least.

  “They are noted for their mining,” Ser Beornric agreed. “Perhaps they’re more comfortable in the caves than they are out here.”

  “Perhaps,” Aefric said. “But I won’t leave them here alone. I still want those scouts on the ridge as soon as possible, keeping an eye on things. And I want regular reports.”

  “Of course, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said quickly.

  “All right,” Aefric said. “Have I missed anything?”

  “One thing I can think of, your grace,” Ser Beornric said.

  Aefric nodded for him to go on.

  “One of those caves that smell like gold…” He shook his head. “Just saying that sounds wrong. But if they’re right, and we’re assuming they are—”

  “What if they’re not?” Ser Yrsa said, and several of the other knights nodded, as though they’d wondered as well.

  “What do you mean?” Aefric asked.

  “Well,” Ser Yrsa said. “They say they smell gold. But how do we know they do?”

  “Why would they lie about something like that?”

  “They know they’re only here and alive on your sufferance, your grace. Maybe they want to dig their way back underground. Maybe find tunnels that lead to other borog clans. Gods know, since the wars, we’re more likely to find borogs underground than aboveground.”

  “Are they?” Aefric asked. “Only alive on my sufferance?” He looked around at his other knights. “Am I the only one who noticed the way they fought alongside us? Without armor or weapons, they threw themselves into the hazard.”

  No one answered. Most of the knights tried to look anywhere else.

  “I was up and fighting while the knights of my personal guard were still donning their armor.” Aefric held up his hands to stop their objections. “Don’t try to tell me I should’ve waited. You knew I wouldn’t, and you know I won’t. Don’t blame me for that any more than I blame you for wanting armor between yourselves and danger.”

  A few of them looked as though they wanted to say something. Before they could, Aefric spoke again.

  “Have Ge’rek and Po’rek proven nothing so far to any of you?”

  “They’ve proven themselves to me, your grace.” That was from Ser Vria. At least a head shorter than the rest of his knights, and the only one of them with eldrani blood. And the eldrani loved the borogs not much better than the na’shek did.

  The others began uttering their own words of agreement.

  “Good,” Aefric said. “That’s a step. Now. It’s a simple enough matter to see if they’re right about gold.”

  “Please tell me your grace doesn’t intend to go caving here and now,” Ser Yrsa said, sounding pained.

  “Not at all,” Aefric said. “I intend to do my best to get a few hours sleep before sunrise. Much like I hope the rest of you do.”