Underkeeper

The street outside the dungeon was bustling with activity when they emerged. Adventurers congregated on corners, exchanging stories, sharing drinks and speculating about what was going on inside. Elyn and Therion moved to join them, curious to learn if anyone else had run into the Duergar as well. Bernt followed, but kept back a little ways. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation right now. Still, he wanted to know what the others had found.

They had all known that the army probably couldn’t eliminate the threat the elder dragon and the kobolds represented in a day. Bernt had been prepared for that. Now, though, they had an entirely new enemy to worry about, and absolutely no information about the dragon. Where had it gone? Was it coming back?

Bernt kept his ears open and found the gossip did offer a few clues. Several of the exploratory units had encountered hostile Duergar, forcing them back and halting their forward push. The geomancer corps was working with the engineers to build new fortified positions in the tunnels. They wanted to consolidate their gains before they tried anything further, but nobody knew any details regarding what that might be. There had been several deaths already.

Nobody had seen any kobolds. At least, no living ones. It was as if they’d just melted away into thin air.

An armored adventurer with a sword at his belt threw up his hands. “I don’t get it. They expect us to just… go home now?! They’re probably fighting in there right now!”

Bernt couldn’t believe it either, and he looked over at Therion, who seemed uncertain as well. Unexpectedly, it was Furin who responded, nodding toward the dungeon entrance.

“This is their job—they do this every day. Kicking us out is probably standard procedure. It’s hard to make diplomatic contact when you’re already fighting. Harder when adventurers are trying to kill them for loot.” He dusted himself off, though he wasn’t dirty, and adjusted his club on his belt. “They’ll pull us back in before long. Might as well make the best of it.”

With that, he nodded at them, turned and walked off. After a moment, Syrah trailed after, grumbling at him in Dwarvish.

Bernt stared after them in incomprehension. When had Furin become such a chatterbox?

Not knowing what else to do, Bernt picked up his bag and excused himself. He still felt… disconnected, somehow—as if he were observing from outside himself.

Shaking his head, he began walking toward the Underkeepers’ headquarters. He was most of the way there when he felt a tug on his familiar bond. It was weak at this distance, but he recognized it instantly: a summons. Usually he wasn’t on the receiving end, but Jori did this occasionally—when there was a clog in the sewers, mostly. Why would she need him to come to her? She was far faster than he was, and she could get almost anywhere undetected. It was strange. Worrisome, maybe.

Turning in the middle of the street, he oriented himself by feel to sense where she was. She was far enough away that he couldn’t see through her eyes right now. It took him a few minutes to realize where she must be—Jori was at the keep. Had she gotten into trouble somehow?

Urgency started to gnaw at him and he hurried off toward the castle. He hardly made it halfway before he was stopped by a familiar figure, who waved to get his attention as he approached. It was Oren.

“Ah good, you’re already out,” the thief said. “I was worried I’d have to go find you all inside. Where’s everyone else?”

Bernt frowned at him. “They left—went home, probably. We’ve been released for now. You can relax. They cleared us all out of the dungeon because of the Duergar.”

Noting Oren’s surprised expression, Bernt quickly explained what had happened to the group today. When he mentioned the Solicitors’ apparent alarm at the presence of demons below, the thief scoffed.

“They’re just jealous that someone else gets to play with their pets!” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I can’t believe they let you keep that imp! Do you have any idea what I could do with a sneaky little monster like that?”

Bernt leaned away a bit, uncomfortable with the thief’s outburst. Jori might be a demon, sure, but she was not a monster. Not to him, anyway.

“Anyway, they’re worried about the wrong threat,” Oren continued, settling back a bit. “It’s the dragon. Your pet demon found a kobold—just one, and she saved it from your gnome colleague. They called me in to translate for it. That’s where I’m coming from right now, actually. I guess not that many adventurers speak Draconic. Turns out Ambrose actually reads those intelligence reports.”

“We already knew it was an elder dragon,” Bernt said slowly. “And it looks like it might not even be here anymore. There are Duergar in the tunnels now, with demons.”

Oren scoffed. “It’s not just any elder dragon. It’s Conperion!” He waited a second, as if waiting for recognition to dawn in Bernt’s eyes. “No? You know, the draconic mastermind? Terror of the Dark Halls, suspected to have ended the third Imperial Dynasty?”

Bernt gave him a blank look.

“Ugh. You are hopeless. Conperion is famous. He once blackmailed the forest elves of Borum, across the sea, for a rare book and ended up taking their entire legendary library. What makes the story really strange is that a neighboring dwarven kingdom found the entire collection a century later, dumped in a heap in what looked like a random underground chamber in the depths. The dwarves refused to return the books, and Borum’s been in an official state of war with them over it for over sixty years. They’ve never actually fought, they’re both more fond of diplomacy and threats than actual fighting, but the war has had enormous political consequences in the entire region for generations. There’s no telling what exactly Conperion’s real aims were.”

The thief sighed. “This could be the same. No telling what we’re walking into now. Maybe he’s gone, maybe he’s not. Maybe the Duergar Empire is knocking on our basement doors, or maybe that’s just what he wants us to think. He’s a manipulator and we are definitely being used as pawns in some way or another.”

“That, or it’s nothing and he just wanted to leave,” Bernt said. “There’s no point in worrying about it.”

Oren scowled. “Anyone with any sense should be getting out of this city, or maybe moving to an entirely different continent. For all we know, the next part of the plan is ensuring that Duergar overrun the entire realm.”

Bernt shrugged. “All adventurers have been ordered to stay, and I don’t have anywhere else to go. I doubt any of the others would leave, either. This is home.”

Besides, as he said it, he realized that he didn’t want to be anywhere else anyway. If there was one thing he’d learned in the past few weeks, it was that you couldn’t escape other people’s schemes—not really. He’d just been doing his job when he got tied up in a conflict with the Alchemists’ Guild. Now he had half the city’s political players trying to maneuver him or Jori for one purpose or another, most of which he didn’t understand. At least Ed and Iriala were looking out for him, but they were doing it too.

Any one of them might eventually get him or Jori killed. At least the dragon would be scheming on a larger scale. All things considered, he just couldn’t summon the energy to feel threatened by a dragon that wasn’t even here anymore.

Oren shook his head, but let it go. Bernt waved goodbye and hurried off.

***

About ten minutes later, Bernt found Jori perched next to the guard station at the base of the winding street that led up to the castle. The senior guard Palina was standing next to her, looking a little uncomfortable, but not threatening. He waved and she relaxed.

“Underkeeper!” she called. “I heard this was one of yours. It said you would come for it and the juvenile noncombatant here.”

Only then did Bernt realize that a tiny creature was huddled up next to Jori. Trying to hide behind her, actually. It was a young kobold, and it was clutching an egg as big as its head.

It was adorable. And out of place. Not unlike Jori herself, he supposed.

“Uh… Jori?” Bernt said, trying to suppress a smile. “Why do you have a kobold there? And an egg?”

“I found him in the dungeon!” Jori explained. “He told the magistrate and the big adventurer warlord about the Great Dragon. I said I would watch him!” She looked over at the little creature. “And his egg!” she added belatedly.

Bernt frowned. “Wait, you want to keep it? I don’t think we can just keep a kobold, Jori… and what kind of egg is that?”

Why in all the hells would Jori volunteer to watch a kobold? Sure, it was cute now, but he knew what they were like when they got bigger. He would probably have nightmares about his first trip into that dungeon for years.

“It’s just a kobold egg. He worked in their nursery or something,” Palina interjected. “And don’t worry, you’re not supposed to keep him. The magistrate wants him taken down to the orphanage. Apparently you work there sometimes? Some paper pusher in there mentioned your name, which was convenient, since the little runt has taken a liking to your demon.”

Bernt snorted, then added the part she didn’t say. “… and none of the guards volunteered to walk through the city streets with a demon and a kobold in tow.”

He didn’t want to do that either. But the cat had been out of the bag with Jori for days by now. Their entire strategy for keeping her safe in the city now required her to be seen. People would need to get used to seeing her out and about. Being seen walking around with a kobold wouldn’t make it any worse.

“Alright, fine. Come along, then.”

***

The trip down to the orphanage was uneventful—most people were still too preoccupied with the work of cleaning up the city to focus on his unusual companions. Those who did notice didn’t exactly look friendly, but Bernt shrugged it off. He had seen too much today and was just too tired to care what random people on the street thought of him. What did they know, anyway? They hadn’t fought the kobolds. Most had retreated to safer parts of the city or barricaded themselves into their homes.

When they arrived at the orphanage, they were greeted by a very enthusiastic Trip—the little ball of energy had taken over door duties from Farrin. She had been learning Draconic to help her get admitted to the research track at the Mages’ Academy, and she started chattering at the bemused kobold hatchling immediately. While Farrin was a bit taken aback by Jori, she quickly took to the hatchling and had him settled with only a few questions.

Jori patted the creature on the head as they left, and Bernt wondered what had made her so attached to the thing so quickly. They were enemies, after all. But it didn’t really matter. One hatchling, even a single full-grown kobold, wasn’t much of a risk to anyone outside their trap-ridden lair.

As they approached home, Jori vanished into an alley without discussion. She would come in through the window, as she always did. Bernt couldn’t wait to wash and climb into bed. He hadn’t been injured, but he could feel the blood and sweat crusted into his hair. There was no telling whose blood it was, and he didn’t want to think about it.