Ghalrak Dramz and the other Dwarfs didn't talk much to the humans who worked alongside them as they labored on Stonebreaker's emergency repairs. The Under-Folk were not a talkative bunch even among themselves, and among humans, less so. What words they did exchange with their new acquaintances--Ghalrak still thought it was too early to start calling them "friends"--were strictly business.

  The human ship, that marvelous iron vessel, used its pumps and dewatering equipment to help reduce flooding and keep the Stonebreaker afloat, and with his vessel thus stabilized, the crew of Lexington now used plugs, wedges, and shoring to minimize the breach in her hull and patch as much of it up as they could. It still wouldn't be enough to close the wound in Ghalrak's beloved ship completely, but it would do.

  Ghalrak watched the human officer, Hunley, working next to him. Sweat beaded on the young man's forehead, but he gave no sign of complaint or discomfort. Nor did any of his shipmates.

  The humans worked with a curious discipline—silent where it suited them, but able to direct whole teams with a single barked word. They lacked, perhaps, the wordless, earth-bonded intuition of a dwarf crew; but what they lacked in kinship they made up for in energy and an almost reckless optimism. The humans simply worked harder, faster, and when that failed, they worked smarter, inventing new tools on the fly and adapting to whatever the situation of the moment required.

  Ghalrak took careful mental notes of all this and so much more: the tools they used, the way they spoke, their mannerisms, and anything else that could possibly be of use to the Under-Realm.

  “I'm curious," Hunley said, wiping his forehead with the back of one hand as his voice jarred Ghalrak from his ruminations, "where do you come from? What's your home like?”

  Ghalrak thought a long moment before responding, weighing the risk and debating what, and how much, to share with the strangers. After a moment he decided that there was little danger in answering the human’s question. After all, to get information, one often had to give a little in exchange. He had to know more about these foreigners and where they came from.

  "My home," he said at last, "is the city of Thafar-Gathol, greatest and mightiest of cities in the Under-Realm. You've never seen its like, not even in your wildest dreams. A thousand generations of my people delved to make it, and we could go another thousand before we're satisfied. Much of the world’s iron and steel comes from her forges, and her mines overflow with gemstones and gold.” The Dwarf gave a rumbling sigh, a sound of satisfaction like a man taking on a walk on a fine summer’s day. “Words cannot do it justice, human.”

  Hunley nodded, his eyes bright with wonder. Ghalrak almost snorted with amusement. “I’d like to see it someday,” said the human. “It sounds incredible.”

  Ghalrak considered telling Hunley about the Causeway of Kings, the never-ending black iron bridge that stretched for leagues over a bottomless volcanic crevasse; or about the Vault of Lanterns, whose domed ceiling was cut from a single flawless crystal and illuminated by thousands upon thousands of gemstones, each one the size of a brawler’s fist and polished to a mirror sheen; or perhaps the famed breweries of the Lower City where the best ales were made. But he suspected the human would only think he was exaggerating, so he merely grunted, “Aye, it is,” and left it at that before turning the conversation around. “And what of you, then? Tell me more about who you are, an' where you come from," Ghalrak challenged. "I've seen humans before, but you're a new breed an' no mistake."

  "Well, like I said before when we first met, I'm from the United States--"

  "Aye, you said that already, lad. But what town? What city? Where are you from, Hunley?" Ghalrak pressed. He wanted to see how much information he could get the human to offer up. A test, of sorts, to gauge the openness of the strangers.

  “I'm from a city called Omaha, originally. It's in a state called Nebraska."

  "A state? What is that?”

  Hunley blinked, then laughed. "It's sort of like a province. The United States is made up of fifty of them. Mine is nearly dead center in the country. I can show you a map later, once we're done working."

  Ghalrak grunted approval. "I’d be curious to see it." To see it, study it, and have it reproduced from memory later. Knowledge was like ore: you never passed up a rich seam if you could help it.

  "And be that where you're taking us?" Ghalrak added.

  Hunley shook his head. "No. Nebraska is landlocked, surrounded by plains and flattest land you ever saw. When the wind came in from the north, you’d swear you could see all the way to the next state."

  “No mountains, then.” Ghalrak’s bushy brows knit in disapproval.

  Hunley shook his head. "No, but other states have some impressive ones. The Rockies are probably the most famous."

  "The Rockies," the Dwarf repeated. As names went, that was about the most unoriginal name for a mountain range Ghalrak had ever heard. Humans, he thought with an inward sigh. He wondered how these foreign mountains compared to the soaring, snow-topped peaks of his homeland, and what riches of ore and minerals they might contain just waiting to be tapped. "They extend far?"

  "Very far. They stretch from north to south across the whole country, almost to the ends of the continent.”

  Ghalrak made a sound that might have been approval. He was quiet for a moment and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Strange it is that none of my folk sought to delve them."

  The young human seemed to hesitate for a second, as though choosing his words with care. "Well...there aren't any Dwarfs where we come from. You're the first we've ever run into.”

  Ghalrak’s scowl deepened. “You expect me to believe there’s a world with no Dwarves? That strains credulity, lad. Wherever there are mountains, there be a Dwarf-hold or two. Everyone knows that."

  "Truly, no Dwarfs," Hunley assured him. The fact that Dwarfs still featured heavily in many fantasy settings and books was something he decided not to share just yet. No sense making things even more complicated. He wondered, for a moment, what Ghalrak would think of Tolkien—would the Dwarf be offended or flattered? Perhaps both, he thought with wry, bleak humor.

  "Then 'tis to your misfortune," Ghalrak said shortly. Where had these strange humans come from, where there were no Dwarfs? The idea of a place with none of his kind was unsettling enough, but more unnerving still was how these humans, with their advanced technology and machines, had just appeared out of nowhere. Where had such a people lain hidden for so long? The more he thought about it, the more it disturbed him, and few things disturbed a Dwarf. Eager to change the subject, he gestured at the Lexington. "Your ship," he said. "It is made of metal. Good, strong metal. How do you keep it afloat? Magic?”

  Hunley grinned. "No magic involved, I'm afraid. Just good old engineering and science. It’s made of steel, but we use a special kind that's lightweight and durable.”

  "I'd be very eager to see how such steel is made," Ghalrak said. "Perhaps, when we get to...wherever it is we are going, your captain might show us." He paused. "Where are we going, anyway? If not to your Nebraska, where are we bound?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say we're probably going to take you into our naval base at San Diego," Hunley said.

  "And what be that like?"

  "It's a port city," Hunley said, "On the west coast."

  "A big city?"

  Hunley nodded. "Yeah, but not as big as others we have. It's a nice place, though. Good weather, good beaches.”

  Ghalrak made a face. "I be not fond of sand, laddie. Gets everywhere and never gets out once it's in. Like fleas in your beard, but worse."

  "Well, you might like it once you get used to it," Hunley said cheerfully.

  The Dwarf made a noncommittal noise and turned back to his labors. "Doubtful." He drove a nail home with a pounding, well-aimed strike. "And who leads this kingdom, this 'United States' of yours? Who do you name your king?"

  "We don't have one."

  The Dwarf seemed a bit nonplussed. "Come again?"

  "We don't have a king," Hunley repeated, setting down his mallet. "We elect our leader, the President, every four years."

  Ghalrak's expression suggested he'd just been told humans reproduced by sprouting from fungus. "You choose your own king. Every so often, you pick a new one?"

  "Not just every so often," Hunley said. “Every four years. Sometimes we choose someone else, sometimes we keep the same President for another four years. And again, he’s not a king. Presidents step down when their time is up, or if the people don’t like what they’re doing, someone else takes their place.”

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  Ghalrak processed this with obvious skepticism. "You mean to say your leaders can be tossed aside like so much waste slag if folk decide they're not fit for the job?"

  "Pretty much.”

  “But if your leaders are there and gone so quickly, replaced after only a few years, how then do you keep order? Who makes the laws?"

  "We do."

  "Who's we?"

  "Me. The captain. The others on board the Lexington. Everyone who's a citizen. We decide what the laws are. We elect our leaders, and they make the laws on our behalf," Hunley explained. "We elect the head of state, the President, every four years, and no President can serve for more than eight. If the laws are unjust, they can be repealed by our representatives or blocked by the courts. If the President oversteps his authority, he can be reigned in. Each branch of our government is designed to make sure the other two don't get too powerful.”

  “Seems to me like a way to make sure nothing gets done,” Ghalrak said.

  Hunley snorted. “Sometimes, yeah. But it’s a trade-off and one we made our peace with a long time ago. Once, almost three hundred years ago, my country was much smaller—a collection of colonies, ruled by a distant king across the ocean. But eventually the king grew too overbearing, arrogant in his power, and treated us badly. He taxed us without our consent, cracked down on us when we resisted, and acted in a manner unbefitting a just monarch. Eventually we had enough of it and rose in open revolt. War followed. Eventually, and against all odds, we triumphed. When it was all over, we vowed that from then on, there would be no king over us ever again. We'd rule ourselves.”

  Ghalrak chewed that over for a long moment. If what Hunley was saying was true, then at least these humans, these 'Americans,' had some amount of backbone. He could respect that. "To take up arms against a king," he murmured, "that's no small thing." He supposed that, if his people had been in such a situation, they might have acted the same way. Certainly, if Hunley was telling the truth, this foreign king had not acted as a ruler should—Dwarfs expected their kings to be strong and just, wise and fair. And he couldn't help but note that Hunley's voice held a certain pride as he recounted the story. The pride of a conquered people who had thrown off their chains and built something new from the ashes.

  Ghalrak was silent for a time, working the new ideas through the flinty matrix of his mind. “Seems a good system for the likes of you. Wouldn’t work for Dwarfs.” He glanced at Hunley, as if daring him to contradict. “We’d never get anything done. We’d vote about the voting, and then the voting about the voting would split the vote, and then there’d be a fist fight.”

  “Sounds a lot like what happens in Congress,” Hunley said.

  Every single human within earshot erupted with laughter. The laughter startled Ghalrak and he bristled until he realized the joke wasn’t at his expense. Hunley smiled at him, and for the first time, the Dwarf returned it with the ghost of a grin.

  Zarrl chose that moment to come over with two tankards of ale. "To quench the thirst," the other Dwarf said, handing a flagon to Hunley. "Nothin' helps a hard day's work go by like a good measure of Dwarf ale, laddie."

  Hunley took the flagon, sniffed it, and blanched. "That, um, smells really strong, maybe I shouldn't..."

  "Nonsense!" boomed Zarrl, giving Ghalrak a conspiratorial wink. "It'll put hair on your chest an' a twinkle in yer eye, or I'm a sodding rhinox! Nay, lad, drink up now! Go on!"

  Hunley hesitated but ultimately decided that it was better not to offend the Lexington's new acquaintances. He lifted the flagon to his lips, took a sip--

  The alcohol hit him like a freight train. Hunley spewed it out from between his lips and everything around him began to spin and whirl. He felt suddenly very dizzy and even a little sick, and fell onto his back as his legs gave out.

  The Dwarfs, Ghalrak among them, erupted into their own gales of laughter. "Can't hold his liquor, can he?" Zarrl hooted. "Fear not, lad, you'll get used to it eventually, mark me words!"

  "He'll be feelin' that in the mornin'!" cackled another of Ghalrak's crew.

  "I think he's feeling it now!" called another.

  Ghalrak took hold of Hunley's arm. "Up ye get, lad. Go find a place to sit till it wears off."

  The human nodded, still coughing, and stumbled away, to the further merriment of Stonebreaker's crew. Even some of the humans were trying not to chuckle. But as Hunley vanished around the corner, Zarrl's expression grew somber. He lowered his voice and asked, "So, then. What manner of folk be these people?"

  Ghalrak pursed his lips. "They're a curious bunch, that's for sure."

  "Aye, true."

  "But not a people to underestimate, either," Ghalrak went on.

  Zarrl's eyes widened with surprise. "You think they're dangerous." It was a statement, not a question.

  "I'd be a stone-brained idiot not to. Consider their ship. Consider how easily they killed the sea beast. Any folk who can build things like that, and create weapons such as those, is formidable indeed." Ghalrak took a deep draught of ale from his flagon and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "There's a lot about 'em we still don't know. I think we need to keep 'em talkin'."

  "Why? If they're a threat--"

  "They might be, an' they might not be," Ghalrak said curtly. "One way or the other, we'll know soon enough. An' when we know, we'll make for home at all speed an' tell the High King. He'll need to know, if he doesn't already, of these strangers. Wherever they've been hiding or wherever they come from, they seem here to stay, and they won't go away if we start pretendin' they don't exist. So, we keep 'em friendly, we keep 'em talkin', an' we keep our eyes an' ears open."

  "I kinda like 'em," Zarrl admitted.

  "Aye," Ghalrak agreed with a knowing nod. "But liking and trusting be not the same, are they?"

  Zarrl sighed. He knew his commander had a point. "Aye, that be true. He put the tray of drinks to one side and picked up his bung-hammer. "Back to work, then, I suppose, and hope for the best."

  Ghalrak almost envied the other Dwarf's optimism. In a way, he wished he shared it. But Ghalrak had been plying the Under-Realm's trade routes for almost as long as a human might live, and he'd seen too much of the world's shadier side. He knew that trust had to be earned, and that sometimes the most dangerous enemies disguised themselves as friends.

  He gave a rumbling sigh and returned to his labors.

  The work lasted until just after sunset, and when Ghalrak and the human commander Kingley both called a halt, their respective crews were dog-tired. Nothing was quite so draining as labor aboard ship, and there were more than a few empty bellies growling by the time they laid their tools down and retired for supper. Hunley, still a little pale and tottery from his experience with the ale some hours before, gave Ghalrak a smile as both humans and Dwarfs headed over to the Lexington for supper. "You're going to enjoy this. Nothing beats a good burger."

  Ghalrak's past experience with human food was mixed at best, but he decided not to mention that as the humans of Lexington helped him and his Dwarfs aboard that marvelous steel behemoth. Once aboard, they were led to the dining area--Hunley called it a "mess hall" for some reason Ghalrak couldn't fathom--and he took a seat at a table long enough for several humans to sit at comfortably. When he did, however, he and other Dwarfs found their shorter stature meant that the edge of the table came up almost to their shoulders. Ghalrak scowled.

  "If this be a joke, laddie, I don't find it funny," he grated.

  "Not at all," the human said, as the other Dwarfs began to grumble and growl. "An oversight, but one we can easily fix." He raised his voice a little. "Can we get some stools in here, please? Now!"

  Hurriedly, a couple of sailors scurried off and returned with several stools, which they placed around the tables for the Dwarfs to sit on. Ghalrak took his seat, but not all the Dwarfs appeared as easily mollified. One or two were still scowling.

  Commander Kingley was the last to arrive, and all the humans present rose and stood to attention when she entered. She gestured for them to sit. "At ease," she said. "I don't know about you all, but I'm famished. Let's eat!"

  The humans cheered and in short order, food was brought out from the Lexington's kitchen. Ghalrak hadn't been sure what to expect from the "burgers" that Commander Kingley promised, and as his plate was put in front of him, he eyed it a little dubiously. The meat smelled good enough, and the bread wasn't moldy, but he wasn't sure about the vegetables on it. They were nothing like the tubers, fungi and other crops that formed a staple part of the Dwarfs' diet back home.

  Zarrl was bothered by none of that. He hefted his burger, took a huge bite, and chewed. "Good!" he exclaimed, mustard and ketchup dribbling down his beard. "Real good! Proper fare for a proper warrior, that is. Get me another!" He shoved the rest of the burger into his mouth until his cheeks ballooned, swallowed, then gave a mighty belch.

  Ghalrak took a bite of his own burger and his estimation of these humans went up a little. It was good, surprisingly so. The bread was soft, the meat was flavorful, and even the vegetables, which he had initially dismissed, had a pleasant crunch. He nodded to Hunley, giving a gruff nod of approval. "Had worse," he said between chews. "I--"

  Whatever he was about to say was cut off when several of his Dwarfs came into the dining hall bearing a huge barrel of ale between them on their shoulders. The Dwarfs cheered lustily and the keg-bearers began going around filling cups with the potent brown liquid.

  Ghalrak gave Kingley a slightly apologetic shrug. "I didn't ask 'em to do that," he said in a low voice. "Want me to have it sent away?"

  Kingley chuckled, holding up a hand. "No, no, it's fine," she said. "We could all use a bit of a... morale boost. Especially since..."

  Her smile faded and she trailed off. Ghalrak got the impression she was thinking better of what she'd been about to say.

  What Kingley had been about to say was that the Lexington's crew could use something to take the edge off. More than a few had lost friends and family in the mysterious event that transported them here, and even those untouched by personal loss were grappling with the sheer impossible magnitude of their new reality and how uncertain their future was. Kingley could afford to let the men and women under her command cut loose for one night.

  Zarrl, already on his third tankard in as many minutes, gave another belch and wiped foaming ale from his beard. "I feel a song coming on!" he announced, his voice booming to be heard over the din. "What say you, lads?"

  The other Dwarfs cheered and raised their tankards. Zarrl hopped up onto the table--heedless of the plates he scattered in the process, and began to sing in a fine bass voice. The Dwarfs began to stamp their feet in time, and after a moment, the humans joined in.

  "The music fades, the fires burn low,

  Our thoughts stray now to long ago,

  In ages past, when stone was young,

  And songs of glory not yet sung.

  In bygone age, our fathers few,

  Set themselves to mine and hew!

  They carved a great glitt'ring hall,

  Our fair, unbowed Thafar-Gathol!

  See veins that flow with gems and ore,

  And mines like none were dug before!

  Where forges burn both night and day,

  And hammers ring in perfect play!

  Beryl, ruby, seams of gold!

  Diamonds hard and onyx cold!

  Steel and iron, shaped and wrought,

  Hearthstones precious, ever sought!

  Sing no more of Elven lands,

  Nor tell of Ironhold ye,

  The works of even serpent-folk,

  Are not so grand as we.

  The greatest realm that ever was, and ever it shall be!

  The Under-Realm beneath the stone!

  So fair and grand to see!"

  The Dwarfs roared with approval at Zarrl's heartfelt tune, raising their steins in a toast to their homeland and cheering.

  "Aye, the Under-Realm!"

  "Long live Thafar-Gathol!"

  "Hail King Firebeard!"

  Ghalrak met Commander Aisha Kingley's gaze as the cheers died down. She nodded, and after a moment, he returned it. It was a gesture of mutual acknowledgment, and it would do. For now. The humans, as far as Ghalrak was concerned, were still too new, too strange and weird for him to call them friends of the Dwarfs.

  But, he allowed grudgingly, perhaps they might be.