Notes: Let's have a little more backstory, hmm? Hiram's curious, and who can blame him?

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Ch. 11 Pt. 2

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Chapter Eleven, Part Two

Legend Has It…

To tell Letty, or not to tell her? On the one hand, it wouldbe considerate to give her time to prepare for a meeting with The Thread, ofall people. It could be life-changing, after all. On the other hand, it seemedlike Letty had already convinced herself that Hiram was going to be of no useto her, and that he shouldn’t even try. What were the odds that she would justignore him if he tried to convince her it was the thing to do? No, better thatit happened naturally in some way. As if it was happenstance that she was ableto meet with them, rather then preplanned. The only hitch was creating thosecircumstances.

Ah, well. He still had a few weeks to think about it. Nowthat the aftermath of his temple visit had faded a bit, and people had provento be more circumspect than he’d counted on, Hiram’s sense of sociality hadcome back full swing. He had a place to live, a burgeoning business, and enoughmoney to spare after every week’s Market Day that he could afford to live it upin town a bit when the mood struck him. And in Lollop, there were really onlytwo places to spend your money on a regular basis: The Yew Brew, if you were inthe mood for clean surroundings and hearty meals, or The Highwayman, a tavernon the eastern edge of town that catered more to travelers than locals.

Hiram visited the Yew Brew several times throughout theweek, once to treat Tilda to dinner closer to her own house, and once to simplysit and absorb the conversation that flowed from patron to patron like a lazyriver. It didn’t even take any magic of his own to hear what people had to say,because Phlox was happy to repeat it for him sotto-voce.

“The older gentlemen at the table by the fireplace saythey’re surprised to see you without your lady friend.”

Hiram hummed thoughtfully as he took a sip of ale.

“They say their wives expect you to propose to her bymidwinter.”

“Ha!”

“Something I can get for you, Hiram?” Jonn called from wherehe was pulling drinks a bit farther down the bar.

“I’m well for now, thank you,” he replied.

“Right, then.”

“Have you entirely forgotten how to be circumspect,Xerome?”

He tapped twice with one of his fingernails on the counter.

“Oh, lovely, we’re communicating in the Undertone now.”Phlox huffed. “Just admit you’re bored. Maybe you should propose toTilda, she seems to be one of the only people around who can liven you up abit.”

Tap-tap.

“Obviously I’m not serious. I know you’re more interestedin males. Speaking of, there have been several conversations since you sat downspeculating on whether or not people should come over and ask you about MasterSurrus. Apparently, his penchant for solitude is legendary.”

“Hmm.” Hiram contemplated that as he finished off thehalf-chicken that had come with his supper.

“Isn’t it, though? What makes you so special that he waswilling to take you home?” Hiram grinned. “Besides all the things he’snot supposed to know about you, obviously. Ugh, you’re so childish.”

“Oy!” The arrival of Robard interrupted Hiram’s privateconversation, but he didn’t mind it, just reached out and steadied the stoolbeside him as the dwarf heaved himself up onto it. He seemed sober for once,and eager not to be if the false joviality he projected was any indicator.“Well met, Master Emblic, well met.”

“And a good evening to you, Robard,” he said politely.

“Mm. What’re you havin’ there, eh?”

“The dinner special.”

“Ah, ah. And, eh, what to drink?”

“Oh, this?” Hiram glanced down at the mug. “It’s a pint ofJonn’s pumpkin ale. The top-shelf stuff. He said it would go well with thedinner.” He shrugged. “He was right, of course. It’s very good.”

“Is it, now?” Robard affected a wide-eyed demeanor. “Y’know,I’ve been meaning to try that pumpkin ale.”

“Then you should.”

“Aye, aye. Only…it’s a bit dear, you know. A bit…pricierthan a simple dwarf like myself can afford.”

Hiram wasn’t sure how Robard made a living when most of whathe spent his time on seemed to be getting drunk, so this was probably a truestatement. Jonn was clearly his closest friend—rumor had it that Robard evenslept in the barn—but that didn’t mean Jonn was willing to waste his expensivemicrobrews on the dwarf when the cheaper ale got him drunk just as fast.

Actually…hmm. “I was wondering,” Hiram said, “about thattower in the distance.”

Robard blinked. “Gemmel’s tower?”

“That’s the one! It seems like a mightily impressive sort ofplace. I hear it was built by a dwarf, too.”

“Aye, that it was.” Robard thumped his chest. “My own clan,in fact.”

“Truly!”

“Indeed, indeed. Clan Blackstone, on account of we used tolive in a mountain of the stuff.”

Interesting. Perhaps Gemmel had been attempting to reinventthe past when he decided to manufacture his tower in the stuff. “Fascinating.I’d love to learn more about it, if you have any tales to tell. Nothing thatwould bring disgrace,” Hiram added quickly. He knew how touchy dwarves could beabout their private histories. “Just what’s allowable. I love a good story.”

It was hard to tell underneath the beard, but Hiram thoughtRobard was trying to affect a crafty expression. “The stories would be betterheard over a pint of pumpkin ale, I daresay.”

“Agreed.” Hiram waved Jonn over. “I’d like the same againfor Robard, including dinner, please.”

“Oh.” Robard looked at him with surprise in his rheumy eyes.“You don’t need to do all that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Hiram replied lightly. Jonn seemed toapprove, if the speed with which he brought the meal of chicken and roastedpotatoes out was any indicator. The ale he pulled much more slowly, making sureRobard was already tucking in to his dinner before setting it down.

The next hour was spent gleaning bits of gold from Robard’sramblings. The broad strokes followed what Avery had said—they were driven outof Blackstone Mountain in the north by an unholy alliance between serpentkinand a group of fire elementals, and after a lot of diversions the majority ofthem ended up settling here. There might have been an element of coercion inthere as well, something about an internal dispute that split their party intwo, but that part wasn’t clear.

“Great idea, that tower,” Robard said in the middle of hissecond pint. “Could have revolutionized magic in the area, not to mention givenour clan a revenue stream that supported us in our traditional crafts insteadof turning weaponsmiths into blacksmiths and mangonel-makers into carpenters.”

“You were a warrior clan, then?”

“Aye, that we were. S’why it burned all the more to beforced out of our home, y’ken. If it were just one or the other, we’d havemanaged, but serpentkin plus the elementals?” He shook his head morosely. “Itwas too much. Can’t say that I care for the emperor all that much, meself, butevery dwarf driven out of the northern range cheered the day he and his peoplesubdued those scaly bastards.”

Subdued. That was a very tame description forannihilation. It occurred to Hiram that letting Robard wax rhapsodic about thedevastation of Phlox’s people wasn’t the nicest thing for his elementalassistant right now.

He got a few more general stories about the tower, asmidgeon of the Blackstone clan’s epic poem, which sounded like it must befantastic sung, and ended the night with Robard on his fourth mug of ale andstaggering off to the outhouse. Hiram paid the final bill, then got to his feetand wrapped himself up in his cloak as he headed outside to walk home. He couldhave come with Mule, but the walk was nice to help clear his head after he’dbeen drinking. Usually it was a quiet, contemplative time.

Tonight, he was treated to a stream of hissed imprecationsfrom Phlox. “They stole our caverns first! Our holy places, defiled by thedeep-digging dwarves, where no piece of us was considered sacred!”

“I know,” Hiram said tiredly.

“The serpentkin were merely a means to an end! We neverintended for them to feed on the clans we conquered.”

“I understand that.”

“There was no good reason for the violence your emperorleveled at us. We as a people are no more now, right down to the smallestflames.”

Hiram could argue that point, but he chose not to under thecircumstances. “It’s in the past now, Phlox.”

There was a moment of silence before Phlox said, “SometimesI wish more than anything that I had managed to kill you. Or that you hadchosen to kill me.”

Hiram only nodded; his throat was too tight to do otherwise.He could offer up excuses, he could say that nothing was simple and war leastof all, he could remind Phlox that he’d quite literally brought the invasionupon himself by burning through town after town, but that wouldn’t do anythingexcept exacerbate the bad feelings. They walked in silence the rest of the wayhome, and Hiram was resigned to a night full of memories keeping him awake ashe walked through the front door.

“Finally.”

“Esme!” Hiram looked at her, then did a doubletake. “Areyou…snuggling with Knight?”

“Only because you weren’t here,” she defended herself beforelicking a stripe between the rabbit’s ears. She had adjusted herself to beabout the same size as the enormous bunny, who seemed surprisingly sanguine abouthaving a dangerous, carnivorous sphinx cuddling him like a baby. “I got cold.”

Hiram smiled at the thin excuse. “I see.”

“And it’s been days since you visited me.”

“That’s true.”

“So here I am.” She rolled onto her back, pulling Knightwith her. The rabbit went with the air of a creature who had abandoned everythought of fighting back. “You have my permission to pet me.”

It beat focusing on the silent treatment from Phlox allnight. “Your wish is my command.”