Here was proof of what every dwarf knew-humans were poor miners at best, and even the skills of dwarven slaves could not improve their methods. Unlike dwarves, humans found no harmony with their enterprises. They didn't work their mines as dwarves did, cooperating with the stone to ease its riches from it. Instead, humans fought the mines, as one would fight an enemy. They fought the mines, fought the ores, and fought the very mountains that provided their riches. The human concept of mining, to most dwarves, was like the human concept of most things: take what you want any way you can, usually by brute force. The scene below the pinnacle seemed proof of that. The few cabins and sheds below the mines-three of the buildings were the remains of what had once been a pleas-antNeidar village-new looked run-down and unused. It was obvious that the shelters now served only as sleeping quarters for the human conquerors. Even from the pinnacle, one could see the dejected weariness of the few dwar-ven women working around what had once been a handsome longhouse. Like the dwarves in the mines, the females too were slaves, kept by the humans to cook and clean for them.

The only other habitation visible, as far as they could see, was a small, distant campsite farther along the mountainside, beside a pretty lake that Derkin remembered from his childhood. The lake was a reservoir, built ages ago by dwarven craftsmen. A long, curving stone dam contained the flow of several mountain streams, channeling it slowly into a series of walled canals that wound along the slopes.

This system had once provided reliable water for the entire Tharkas region. But that had been in the golden times of Thorbardin, the days of the great Road of Passage, when people of all races and nations traveled between southern Ergoth and the northern lands, along a route maintained jointly by the dwarves of Kal-Thax and the knightly orders of human Ergoth.

Those times were gone now. The old road had fallen into disuse, and parts of it had been obliterated. And while the mountainside reservoir remained, its channels were choked with clutter and debris. The lake remained, but it no longer served dwarven villages and farms.

Squinting, Derkin tried to make out who was camping there now, and Calan said, "Those are humans over there. Nomads from the plains. See how they avoid the empire soldiers at the mines? They come and go, passing through, but most plains people have no use for the emperor."

Scowling, Derkin stared down again at the sad scene below and cursed beneath his breath. Then he turned to the hooded elf who had led him here. "Two years?" he demanded. "They have made this much ruin in just two years?"

"They would have done the same to Thorbardin itself," the elf replied, "but they couldn't get in. Lord Kane sent an assault force south to test Northgate. Zephyr observed them for me. The humans finally gave up and came back. They never got past Thorbardin's outer defenses. But they do hold the mines, and have been stockpiling ore for nearly a year to send through the pass to Klanath."

"But why hasn't Thorbardin sent troops to drive them out?"

"What troops?" old Calan Silvertoe rasped. "You have been in Thorbardin since I have, young Hylar. How long has it been since the thanes within stopped their feuding long enough to send a force outside?"

"My father restored order in Thorbardin!" Derkin snapped.

"Yes, of course," the old one sneered. "And the Hylar Peace lasted slightly longer than your father did. Then, as you know better than I, they started at it again, Theiwar against Daewar, Daergar fending off Klar, the Hylar holed up and pouting in their Life Tree…"

"I know," Derkin rumbled. "That was why I left Thorbardin. But I didn't know they had turned their backs on the outside lands."

"Well, they did." Calan's frown was as fierce as Derkin's. "And without Thorbardin's troops, the world outside fell into the hands of… humans!" Disdainfully, the old dwarf pointed downward, his single hand a rigid arrow of accusation, pointing out shame.

"Rust and corruption," Derkin muttered.

Behind him, Calan whispered to the elf, "He reminds me of his father when he looks like that."

"He will need to be as strong as his father," Despaxas replied.

Derkin whirled on them, turning his back on the sad scene below. "It's high time somebody put a stop to that atrocity," he said. "Humans don't belong in Kal-Thax. This land is for dwarves."

"I couldn't agree more," the elf said sympathetically.

"One would need an army to reclaim this territory," Calan pointed out.

"Then I'll go to Thorbardin myself and bring back an army," Derkin snapped.

"What army?" Calan shook his head. "We've kept abreast of what's going on in Thorbardin. There is no army. Just a bunch of bickering clans barely kept in check by Jeron Redleather and Dunbarth Ironthumb, with every reliable follower they have working to police the under-mountain. Nobody is coming from there to help. Not until the time comes when Thorbardin has a real leader again, like in the old days."

"There is an army," Despaxas said softly. "At least, there could be. But you won't find it in Thorbardin."

Derkin frowned at the elf, hard Hylar eyes seeming to pierce him. "Where, then?"

"Back there." The elf gestured northward. "Back where you just came from. The humans have a few hundred dwarves working these mines south of the pass, but there are nearly eight thousand dwarven slaves in all laboring in Klanath. They would make quite an army if they had the right leader."

"You're crazy," Derkin snapped. "I'm free of there. I'm not going back."

"Thaf s too bad," Calan said. "You know, those pit slaves back there are going to pay dearly for the two guards who died so unfortunately when we…"

"You murdered those men yourself!" Derkin spat. "You cut their throats gleefully, and now you're worrying about who will be blamed?"

The elf pulled his cowl forward, hiding the slight smile that pulled at his cheeks. "It was your escape, Derkin. Do you want to be responsible for the misery that will befall all those innocent dwarves?"

Derkin stood silent for a moment, looking from one to the other of his odd companions. Then his eyes narrowed. Glaring at Calan Silvertoe, he said, "I wondered why you killed those guards. It seemed a needless, senseless thing to do. But you had a reason, didn't you, Daewar? I should have known. A Daewar always has a reason."

"You're Hylar," Calan said, "and whatever else they might be, the Hylar do have strong notions of chivalry and honor."

"And a strong distaste for manipulation," Derkin snapped. "I see it now. You planned it all out, the two of you. You want something from me. What is it?"

"We want the same thing you want," Despaxas said softly. "We want to drive Lord Kane's human invaders out of Kal-Thax and reestablish the boundary in the pass. To do that will require an army. An army of dwarves. We want you to mold that army and lead it."

"Why me?"

"Because you can," the elf said. "Zephyr has read your soul, and we know your lineage. We know quite a lot about you, Derkin Winterseed. We have studied you for nearly a year."

Derkin glared at him. "Why?"

"Have you ever heard of an elf named Kith-Kanan?"

"Not that I remember. Why?"

"Kith-Kanan is a friend of my mother, Eloeth," Despaxas said. "Kith-Kanan has been concerned about the human emperor, Quivalin Soth, whose soul is the darkest Zephyr has ever seen. Kith-Kanan asked Eloeth for advice about Kal-Thax, because Klanath is so near to Kal-Thax and because Eloeth has dealt with dwarves. She, in turn, asked me to help, and I asked Calan, because he is my friend. He lost that arm saving my life nearly two hundred years ago."

"That's fine." Derkin glared at the elf. "But it doesn't answer my question. Why all the interest in me?"