It really had been quite a day. It was eight o’clock in the evening, and I just sat down to a very late and simple meal of soup, bread, and cheese. I had the first spoonful up to my mouth and the elementalist apprentice book open to the first chapter when Biff cleared his throat behind me.

  I sighed deeply.

  “I’m really sorry, Gwyd, I know you are exhausted, but there are three dwarves downstairs and they seem to think that they are expected.”

  “Expected?” I repeated.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. They, er-, are looking for Sundance.”

  My heart leapt, and I had a lump in my throat. “I see.” I managed to say after a long moment.

  I was no longer hungry, and I left the steaming bowl of soup on the common room table along with the fresh bread and cheese. I dropped my book off in my study after following Biff back down the second-floor long hallway to the stairs that led to the main floor entrance.

  We emerged together on the back of the main floor and turned left to walk around the pillar. I expected the dwarves to be wandering the room, inspecting the goods, architecture, or something. But they stood just a little ways inside the entry near the alcove used for teas, breads, cheeses, and cookies. Bella kept everything fresh, and it was classy to have a place for the wealthier clientele to rest and think over how they would spend their gold in my shop.

  At least, that was how Master Glimmerblade explained it to me. In fact, I’m not sure anyone other than the brawlers used the space and only then to grab a snack. They never sat in the cushioned chairs. They probably were afraid that their muscular bulk would break the delicate furniture.

  And they might be right.

  As I approached the three dwarves, I ran through greeting protocols. I was no longer an apprentice but the master of this business, and I needed to appear confident but respectful of their stations.

  Whatever those stations happened to be.

  One dwarf, the one in the middle, was the oldest. By age and his position between the other two, he would be the one I spoke to, but I would bow in greeting to each individually. The one on his right had a mohawk and a red beard. There was something about the dwarf that was off to me, but I couldn’t say what it was. The dwarf on the senior dwarf’s left was the tallest and youngest, with a yellowish beard.

  I stopped around seven feet in front of them so I did not tower above them in proximity. Humans tended to have much closer personal space than most of the other races, other than halflings, who were often far too close and personal for my comfort. It was probably how elves and dwarves felt around humans, now that I thought about it.

  “Good day, sir dwarves,” I said to the middle dwarf and then partially bowed and nodded to them in turn: middle, my left, and then my right. That way, I bowed to the lead dwarf, the dwarf to his right, and then to his left.

  They bowed to me in return when I had finished, but only the middle dwarf spoke. “We are here at Sundance’s request. Where is he, and why have we been kept waiting?”

  Dwarves were a finicky lot and handled grieving in unpredictable ways: silence, anger, loud wailing, or they could just ignore me, turn, and leave. It really was quite a range.

  But they didn’t like beating around the bush when it came to important matters. Oh, they could spin a yarn longer than any human I know when motivated, but they were also plain talkers when it was called for and did not respect what they perceived as politics and flowery, self-important speeches by the other races.

  “My former master, Sundance, was murdered yesterday during a Deathlight and undead invasion of the city by a necromancer.”

  I kept my voice steady, I looked the elder in his eyes, but I could not help tearing up slightly and clenching my jaw. It might be perceived as a human weakness, but the memory was too fresh. That was the best I was able to pull off given their surprise visit.

  The middle dwarf’s eyes widened, and I saw unmistakable surprise and mourning. It lasted for just a moment, but it was there.

  “And who might you be?” Asked the dwarf to his left, the most junior of the three.

  It appeared that I had been suddenly demoted.

  “I am Patron Gwydion Istari, jeweler, gemologist, and enchanter. I am the proprietor of this shoppe, Sundance Memory.”

  The two dwarves on either side turned and spoke in dwarvish to each other. It just dawned on me that they had spoken in the human common language because that was what I had led with. Strike one to me. Maybe even strike two, given circumstances.

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  The conversation became private, and I spoke in flawless Dwarvish to let them know I understood them. “If you would like a private room, I can offer one of the showing rooms for your convenience.” And I motioned behind me and to the right, where open doors invited entry in three different meeting or showing rooms.

  They stopped speaking immediately and eyed me. The elder spoke. “If you speak Dwarvish so clearly, why did you not honor us with it at our greeting?”

  “I apologize. I am still grieving the loss of my former master, and I broke even the most common courtesy. Please forgive me.” And I bowed before them and held the bow until they forgave me or walked away. While it is true they could strike me in affront to their honor, I felt that was unlikely. I was a mage, and human mages were volatile. Dwarf honor was important, but should they offend me beyond the limits of control, they could have a mess on their hands.

  I held the bow for a solid sixty seconds and was just wondering how long they might make me stay in that uncomfortable and ignoble position when the eldest approached and gently placed his hands on my two shoulders. “Lad, there is nothing to apologize for. We know what you meant to Sundance, and you are why we are here. It was discourteous of us to demand common courtesy under uncommon conditions.”

  It was a dwarf way to dismiss the affront to honor as if it never occurred. It was the highest honor one dwarf could bestow upon another, and it was unusual to be accorded to me, a human.

  When I stood upright, I saw that he was smiling at me and treating me like a child. He meant no offense, but it was his way of showing kindness. My eyes teared up again despite trying to maintain my composure.

  I guessed his age to be nearly a century, and I must look like a child to his eyes. Humans already had a smooth and youthful appearance compared with most dwarves, and I was young for my position by most human adult standards.

  Despite being teary-eyed, I kept a stoic face and voice. “Thank you, master-” I hesitated, realizing they had not yet introduced themselves. We were all tripping over ourselves and lacking common courtesy.

  “And it is our turn to apologize. I am Master Doric Copperheart, and with me are Master Galena Warmforged and Master Saldrock Anvilblade of the Copper Mountains.” He indicated the female dwarf on his right and then left when naming them. Dwarves all look male to human eyes, and this is what threw me when glancing at Master Warmforged. Seeing her larger chest, it was now obvious that she was female, and my cheeks burned slightly in embarrassment along with the tension of the moment.

  Master Copperheart continued. “And we were summoned at the request of your former master to put you to the test as a dwarven master.”

  I admit it, my mouth gaped open. To my knowledge, there had never been a human granted the title of master by the dwarves. And if there had been, it occurred a very long time ago.

  “Forgive me again, masters, I was not aware that you had been summoned or that this honor was even being considered. And by your names, you each represent the start of a new dwarven generation. It is an august assembly of masters.”

  By tradition, each dwarven clan ruled the lands roughly equating to a range of multiple mountains across the Dwarftop Mountains. Each clan had clan names which started at their year one, the first year of the establishment of their clan, up through year one hundred. Names were then repeated each year thereafter. Since all dwarves born were raised communally, they also shared a common last name, which was the traditional name for the year of their birth. Dwarves born in years one, twenty-six, fifty-one, and seventy-six represented the start of a dwarven twenty-five-year generation and were held in special esteem. The Copperhearts, also known as Firstkin, were born in year one of their clan's generational calendar and were considered quite special because of it. The warmforged were born in year twenty-six. And likewise the Stormrock, my master Sundance’s surname, were born in year fifty-one, and the Anvilblades in year seventy-six. With my former master, they would represent all four quarter generation firstborns.

  “In fact, with my Master Sundance, you four would have represented a perfect set of quarter-borns,” I remarked.

  They said nothing for a moment, but I could tell they were impressed with my knowledge and recognition of their special birthrights. Master Sundance had made me memorize all one hundred clan lineage names by year. It was tedious memorization, but it paid off well today.

  Master Copperheart eventually nodded in agreement, but only commented on my first observation and not about their lineages. “The summons is initiated by the ranking master of the forge where the journeyman is pledged. In your case, that was Master Sundance Stormrock. When the master deems the time is right, and it does not always come even in many a dwarf’s lifetime, he reaches out to three masters who unexpectedly arrive and put the lad-”

  “Or lass.” The dwarf on his right spoke, and I confirmed my suspicion that Master Warmforged was a female dwarf. Since both men and women had deep, luxuriant beards, wrinkled, rustic features, and a gruff disposition, it was sometimes hard to tell them apart.

  Master Copperheart sighed. “Yes, yes, of course, ‘or lass’.” He appended and nodded to Master Warmforged. “The point I was making to the lad was that he wasn’t supposed to know we were coming.”

  “Then just say that.” Master Warmforged continued. “He doesn’t need a speech. He’s a plain talker. You can tell that by how he informed us about Sundance despite his obvious fondness for his master.”

  Before Master Copperheart could reply, Master Anvilblade asked. “In this room you mentioned, is there, by chance, food and ale?”

  I smiled. “There certainly can be, Master Anvilblade.”

  The other two grunted, and Master Anvilblade said, “Well, lead on then.”

  Bella, please bring bread, cheese, stew, meats, and ale to showing room three.

  I figured that it was the furthest away, giving them time to inspect the shoppe, and it was also the closest to the stairs leading down to the lower level in case they decided a test was still in order despite circumstances being what they were.

  That is the map room, Gwydion. How about showing room two? She suggested gently.

  I didn’t stumble as I walked, but I felt like I had mentally.

  Thanks, Bella. I said and meant it deeply. It would have been very embarrassing to walk them into the map room with no food or a place to sit down.

  I changed plans and entered the middle room. When I did, the aroma of fresh bread and stew met us. Bella was amazing. She had transported the desired meals to the room in a matter of moments.

  You are amazing, dear Bella. I thought to her.

  Yes, I am. Came the reply, but I sensed she was pleased with my compliment.

  “A host he is, a generous host indeed.” Master Anvilblade observed and made his way to a keg with a tall wooden mug resting next to it. He filled it and two others, returning to the common, low table in the middle of the four standard chairs. He paused and handed out the other two mugs to his comrades. The hesitation suggested that for a moment, he intended all three to be his own.

  “It is only my duty, masters. How else may I be at your service?”

  They dug into the food and did not reply for perhaps fifteen minutes. I stood nearby patiently, refilling mugs or fetching additional food as they cleared their plates. I was also silent.

  Clearly, they had a decision to make, and I would not intrude or force them. At least, unless this dragged on for too long and I had to get back to my duties promised to the Duke. I was interested in their trials, and the honor of being a dwarven master was something I desired, although I had never seriously considered it for myself. However, I was mostly obedient and respectful to them because my master had thought it fitting that they get summoned, and I would not dishonor him or his memory.

  At last, all three belched loudly, with Lady Galena delivering the loudest and wettest of the belches. I had a hard time keeping a straight face.

  Master Copperheart wiped his beard and said, “Show us the forge lad.”