Being Ardent’s prisoner was galling. The food was good and drink likewise, even if the small beer was smaller than than he’d have liked. He was allowed some of his books, too, apart from those Ardent considered un-dwarfish – a terminology that told you everything about the arrogant young upstart, still wet behind the helmet, who was no doubt keen to get his paws on the whole of Schmaltzberg, ‘un-dwarfish’ fat mines and all.

And in his little dungeon Albrechtson had to endure Ardent’s self-serving philosophy about the role of the Low King. What in solence! Lecturing him, the foremost scholar on the subject. But it didn’t do to get angry, at least not yet. Anger was a weapon to be honed and treasured and used only at the moment yielding most premium. And that thought was followed by a noise on the stone stairs as the pompous fool came again to get him to change his mind.

Of course, Ardent would begin as if he was just an old friend coming to chew the rat, but as he talked, Albrechtson would glimpse the coils of a decent mind unfolding. After all, he was opposing his sovereign, something not done lightly, if ever. Ardent had to be aware of the penalty for those who took up arms against the Low King. Despite everything, there must have been a good mind there, one which could have been useful to dwarfkind as a whole and might yet be useful, even if right now it couldn’t tell pyrites from gold. It was no secret that the most highly balanced minds sometimes, well, overbalanced.

The key turned in the lock. There was Ardent, and his expression seriously frightened his erstwhile mentor. You needed to be mature to sense this sort of thing but you could tell in a person’s eyes if they were being driven by an idea. They had a clammy look about them, and so did Ardent.

Nevertheless, Albrechtson laid down his pen and said in a calm voice, ‘So kind of you to come and see me. I understand the King will be here shortly, courtesy of the train. Won’t that be nice?’

There was a little bloom of spittle on one side of Ardent’s face and he snapped, ‘You can’t possibly know that!’

Albrechtson sat back convivially and said, ‘It’s probably true that I taught you all you know, young dwarf, but I did not teach you all I know. I have some skills that I didn’t impart.’

‘Then they must include guesswork. I hold the key to information in Schmaltzberg. No clacks towers are standing.’

‘Oh yes, so I hear.’

‘Rhys Rhysson is betraying all that is dwarfish. And for the sake of our species you surely know that I must take the Scone of Stone. The majority of the dwarfs here are behind me.’

Albrechtson twiddled a pen in his fingers and said, ‘Possibly in order not to have to look at your face, Ardent. You’re shaken and the courage of your convictions will see you convicted, the moment the King steps into Schmaltzberg. From what I know of Rhys Rhysson, he may be merciful.’