"Benkal!" screams Elder Brezakh. "Nephew, wake up! Wake up!"

"Wake up!" begs the other senior runeknight.

Both his armor and his face are similar to Brezakh's—he must be Benkal's father. Hayhek groans. He knows this scene well.

"I said, not to the death," Runethane Halmak mutters. "Not to the death!"

Elder Brezakh stands and turns to me in a fury. He pulls his hammer from the loop on his belt.

"Murderers!"

"He agreed to fight," I say. "He agreed to fight us."

"Your runes killed him!"

"He was never meant to have them! Do you think I wanted this to happen? Do you think I planned this?" I shift the mace in my hand. "Well?"

"Step back!" Runethane Halmak yells. "Both of you, step away from one another!"

I do so, raising my shield in the same movement. Elder Brezakh stays where he is—he disobeys.

"Elder Brezakh," warns the Runethane. "I said step back."

"My nephew—killed. And you ask me to step away from his killer?"

"Zathar did not slay him."

"He as good as did. He created the runes that have robbed his life."

"I did not mean for them to be used in that fashion!" I say. "I intended them to be used with my runes of light!"

"You lie! You are lying!"

"Calm yourself!" Runethane Halmak snaps. "And step away!"

Brezakh still refuses to obey. "I cannot, my Runethane. I cannot abide by the existence of his runes."

"He dug them up—he did not make them."

"If that be the case—even if that be the case, he is responsible for them coming into this realm."

Runethane Halmak shakes his head. "The trial is over. Zathar's champion has proven victorious over your own."

"He broke the rules!" cries Benkal's father, looking up from the lifeless body of his son. "He killed him! You said it was not to be to the death—and he's killed him!"

"True. But it was not this dwarf's blow that killed him."

"Zathar's runes," Brezakh says. "I say it to you again and again, my Runethane, yet you do not seem to hear. Zathar's runes are a curse upon our realm!"

"Light has proven itself over dark."

"How can that be, my Runethane? You just said yourself that it was not Zathar's light-using champion that struck the final blow. So how, exactly, has light proven itself?"

"You overstep the bounds of your authority, Brezakh. The duel is over. The trial is over. I am ending it."

"Wait," I say. "My Runethane, with respect, it is not over."

Runethane Halmak's eyes widen. "By all the Runegods!" he yells. "You have won, Zathar! Has enough blood not been spilled? Has the peace of my realm not been broken enough for you?"

"There is still our claim to examine," I say, as calmly as I am able to. "Our claim that Elder Brezakh orchestrated a plot to deny us coin. To strangle us. There will be ample proof, I think, if you search the other guilds—jobs that were never posted to the quest halls. You yourself set up that system so that your runeknights could compete fairly. In his rage to destroy us, Elder Brezakh has ignored your decrees."

"Zathar?" Hayhek groans. "What are you doing?"

"What he must," says Ithis.

Ithis understands as I do: now that blood has been spilled, the blood of Brezakh's family, our foe will stop at nothing to see me and the Runic League destroyed. His rage will never abate. I must put a stop to this. A final end to it!

I look him in the eyes. "Elder Brezakh, let's finish this feud of ours, here and now."

He glares. "Here and now?"

"Yes. Duel me. You are a first degree, I a second. It's a fair fight. If I lose, my guild and I will leave this place forever. If I win, you are to end your attempts to disrupt us."

"There have been no such attempts, traitor. Why do you continue to try and convince us of your lies?"

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"Well, fine—if you deny it, that is up to you. My victory will prove the truth of my words."

"Stop this," says Runethane Halmak. "There has been enough blood spilled!"

"There will be more, my Runethane, if we cannot both be satisfied here. Blood begets blood—it always has and always will. We must put an end to this feud before it worsens. Our duel does not have to be to the death. We can keep to the same rules this last one was fought by."

Runethane Halmak shakes his head. "And look how that's turned out."

"I do not think either of us will be killed by our own crafts."

"You'll be killed by one another's, yes."

"There's no need for a duel," says Elder Brezakh. "Zathar's guilt has been proven by my nephew's death, whose sacrifice must not be in vain."

"No!" roars Benkal's father. His voice is sadness and fury made into sound. "It must not!"

Runethane Halmak looks at Benkal's corpse, then to his father, to Brezakh. He looks at Ithis and Hayhek, and then he looks up at the stands, and around them.

I wonder if he's ever been down here before and seen his realm from this angle—from the perspective of one he's put on trial, or is testing. Now he is being tested. He has been posed an impossible question—justice, or the feelings of his closest ally. And there is yet more to consider—the truth of my runes, the threat below, the oncoming war. How should he deal with this fight? How can he end the animosity, bring his dwarves back together so that they might stand strong and organized in the face of so much outer danger?

He continues to look up, thinking carefully. Eventually, he looks back down and says:

"Zathar, do you really agree to the terms you set forth? You will leave my realm if you lose?"

"Yes, my Runethane."

"And you will not fight to the death?"

"So long as he does not."

Runethane Halmak shakes his head sadly. "But I think you will, Brezakh."

"No. I will be happy with his exile."

"You say that now, but will you be able to hold yourself back? You've not held back on your other desires."

Brezakh frowns. "I do not quite grasp what you mean, my Runethane."

"What an absurd situation. To think that my closest friend would attempt such acts, for me..."

"I've done nothing."

"Ah, but I know you have. For me, I know, yet you are in the wrong here, my friend."

There is silence for many long moments. Then, Brezakh nods by the slightest amount.

"Zathar cannot abide here." He lowers his voice. "My Runethane, he threatens you!"

"Because of his runes?"

"Yes."

"Then you suspect he tells the truth about them."

"Yes," Brezakh whispers. "And I fear what they will bring about—bring about here, upon us."

"What changed your mind, my friend? This duel?"

"It has been the deciding factor. That, and the search of his guildhall."

"I see."

"You must expel him from here. Even if you do not—the rest will not accept his and his guild's presence."

"They will if I order them to. For a while, I am going to keep tighter control of my realm. So that this kind of thing does not happen again."

"That is most wise of you, my Runethane."

"But first, there must be justice. A duel—fine, if that's what both of you want. If you win, you were right to work against his guild. If he wins, you were wrong to. That's how I'll make my decision. A simple trial by combat." He shrugs. "We are warriors. How else should we prove who is wisest? Those who forge the greatest crafts are given the right to rule over the rest. That's how the underworld works. We do not need contracts, clauses, and the rest. We have a far purer way of testing things. Hammer on bronze."

"That is most well-said, my Runethane."

"I wish to clarify, my Runethane," I say. "The victor will be judged correct in his actions, for those who forge best are given the right to rule. Is this what you are saying?"

"It is."

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

He looks around at the stands again, then bellows out:

"Hear me, my runeknights! Hear me, all of you! He who forges best is judged to be the wisest! That is how we dwarves decide things! Guildmaster Zathar and Elder Brezakh will fight to the surrender! He who wins, I will judge to have the correct perspective on things. Now, swear to me that you will all abide by the result of this contest: that if Zathar wins, you will treat him and his Runic League as equals, not traitors! Well? Do you swear? Answer!"

There is silence, and then come the first cries of yes, and then more come, until the air is roaring with the word, layered on top over and over again. It continues for several minutes before abating slowly, like the after-tremors of a great stonequake.

They swear it very easily, it seems to me. Probably they don't expect to have to keep their promise—they know better than me, perhaps, how strong Elder Brezakh's crafts are.

"Good," Runethane Halmak says to us. "Very good. Perhaps I will once more have unity here."

"You will," says Elder Brezakh. "You will, my Runethane."

"Thank you. Now, Zathar, you will stand at the far side of the arena. Brezakh, you will be at the close side, below my stands."

"I understand," I say.

"Very well," says Brezakh.

"The rest of you, clear out!"

The guards begin to march away. One helps Benkal's father carry away his son. Ithis lets down Life-Ripper and my tungsten helm and pulls Hayhek to his feet.

"Good luck," he says nervously.

Hayhek gives me a pained look. "Fight hard," he says, "but do not do anything rash."

They all retreat across the dark gravel, leaving low clouds of dust in their wakes, which slowly settle.

"Duelists, move now," Runethane Halmak orders.

Brezakh turns and starts to walk away. I turn to do the same, but the Runethane clasps my shoulder hard—very hard. The gold lines on his armor flash. He stops my movement dead.

"What is it, my Runethane?" I ask.

"It might be better for all involved if you were to surrender sooner rather than later, Zathar. You cannot beat Brezakh, and if he kills you, our relations with the guardians below will be soured to the detriment of all. Perhaps fatally—the darkness will find a realm so divided all the more easy to conquer."

"He's that strong, is he?"

"He is a quarter-degree. You are a fraction-degree. He knows far more how to work the true metal than you do."

"A quarter of his metal is true, you mean."

"Correct."

"And how much was Vanerak's?"

"Runethane Vanerak surpassed half-degree."

"But I beat him."

"You fought him to a draw, after he had battled something made by a Runegod."

My ruby flares hot. I scowl. "Be that as it may, my Runethane, Elder Brezakh has insulted me and my guild most grievously, many times over. I have no choice but to duel him, and to duel him until I can no longer move the weight of my own armor. I will not surrender. Yes, he may have more true metal than I –but you do not reckon with the power of my runes."

"They do not seem to be any more powerful than most runes."

"But I can use them more freely. I will show you how freely. I will show you just how powerful runeforging is, how ferocious my compositions are." I soften my voice a little. "And after this nastiness is all dealt with, my Runethane, I will use my powers to work with you in the defense of your realm. Believe me: I have no wish to be your enemy."

"Well, that is good, at least." He looks down at my mace and my shield. "We will see. We will see."

He lets go of my shoulder, and I step away.

"We will indeed," I tell him.

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