The Broken Knife

The miner’s ‘den’ had no huts, just areas where males piled together like exhausted puppies. There was nowhere for food to be stored or cooked, and no sign of fire or pots. Dim red crystals lit the area, but it was the darkest place Kaz had seen since his abduction, other than some of the tunnels they had passed through to get here. No one was training, no one was crafting, and no voices broke the quiet except soft murmurs. Even in the Sharpjaw den, the doomed males had at least attempted to continue living normally, but here, no one smiled or laughed, and their ears didn’t even turn to track the sound of the newcomers.

Surta waved his hand, smiling as proudly as if they were looking over a thriving tribe. “There are two shifts. This is the first,” he told Kaz, waving a hand to indicate the pile of sleeping kobolds and the smaller group who were awake but huddled close together, in defiance of the usual tendency of adult kobolds to avoid physical contact with others not in their family.

“It’s time to sleep, but probably not for much longer, since some of them are awake. Second shift is out mining, but they’ll be back when-” He broke off as a deep, rolling chime echoed through the den, and nodded in satisfaction as the sleepers began to wake.

“There it is. Each shift mines for fourteen hours, then has two hours to get back here and trade in their crystals for food. Anyone not back within the two hours is either dead or hungry. The last eight hours are for sleeping. The bell you just heard is the loud one, that you can hear all the way out in the mine. There’s a quieter one to let those in the den know when it’s time to sleep.”

Kaz saw the familiar figure of Dax, sitting alone with his head hanging as if he were staring at the floor. He didn’t move, just stared, and Kaz wondered what he was thinking about.

“Which shift is Dax on?” Kaz asked, and Surta shrugged.

“He was first, but he’s off schedule now. He’ll get a meal for going out to fetch you, and then he’ll sleep and join second shift when they go.”

“Would that make me second shift, too?” Kaz asked.

Surta’s eyes once again ran over Kaz. “You look well-rested and healthy. You should go out with first. You don’t get fed until you work, so if you wait, you won’t get anything until tomorrow.”

Kaz hesitated. “Who decides? Can I just pick a shift? I’m actually tired, and I ate not that long ago.” Admittedly, it was Raff’s disgusting hardtack, but it was surprisingly filling. He could definitely eat, but he was used to going hungry, so the idea of waiting until tomorrow didn’t bother him.

Surta’s gaze turned to Kaz’s pack again. “Are you sure you don’t have food in there? If you do, you should share. We always get the same thing here, so giving someone a taste of real food could earn you a lot of good will.”

Kaz sighed internally, then began to unbuckle his pack. Pulling it around to his chest, he loosened the knot and pulled the opening wide, showing that there were no bundles of meat or lichen inside. The seed was buried beneath the tattered and smelly leather of his old loincloth, and the only vaguely desirable thing visible in the sadly-empty bag was the hilt of the old knife Zyle had given him. Kaz reached in and pulled it out, showing the dull and lustreless blade to the other male.

“My grandfather gave me this. It was his when he was a pup. If it would help someone else-”

Surta snorted derisively, dismissing the knife and the pack. “No. Everyone here has a better weapon than that. If you don’t, you won’t live long.”

He forced a smile, but his eyes lingered on the hunched and worn figures of other kobolds, just beginning to trickle in through the wide opening in the opposite wall of the den. Each of them carried a large bag, some plump and heavy, others almost as empty as Kaz’s pack. Two of the males who had been sitting pulled most of them aside as they entered. They began going through the packs as the miners stood by, silent and unprotesting.

Turning away from Kaz, Surta began trotting toward the incoming miners. Over his shoulder, he called, “Do what you want, pup, just remember you don’t eat if you don’t work.”

Unless you’re a thief, Kaz thought, watching as Surta joined the males who were taking a few of the largest crystals from each bag. Some of the emptiest bags remained untouched, so at least they really weren’t making anyone starve. Of course, dead kobolds didn’t mine, so that, too, might be simple self-interest.

A flash of red caught his attention, and a mosui appeared not far from the miner’s entrance. Kaz stared at the strange little being as it stood there, and the miners whose bags had already been raided lined up in front of it. The first miner passed over his bag, and the mosui poured it out onto the floor in front of its feet, then handed the empty sack back to the kobold.

Glancing around, Kaz realized no one was paying attention to him, so he edged closer, and by the time the third miner approached, he was able to see what was going on. Not surprisingly, the mosui was standing on another of the red-crystal platforms, but there was a bowl-shaped hollow taking up most of the front half of it. The bowl was filling slowly as the miners continued to offer up their findings. Each time the contents of another bag were added, the mosui glanced at an object it held in its hand, then took something from a pouch at its waist and handed the object to the miner, who stepped to the side.

It took a little longer for Kaz to figure out what the mosui was handing out, but eventually he saw one of the miners hold up a little round stone that held a faint cloud of mana. The male stared at it with desperate hunger, and Kaz could see saliva start to darken the gray fur at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t eat it.

A few times, the mosui plucked a crystal from the pile. Twice, it did exactly as Surta had described and threw the offending crystal back at the miner, who flinched, but otherwise didn’t respond. Once, a particularly gaunt miner slid his fingers into the top of his loincloth, producing a small crystal that glittered with faint yellow ki, then dropped this into his bag before handing it to the mosui. Kaz was fairly certain that he wouldn’t have been able to make out the motion if he hadn’t had ki empowering his eyes, and it seemed that Surta and his group of warriors hadn’t noticed either.

They did, however, notice when the mosui chittered sharply and snatched the yellow crystal from the pile. It lifted the glittering stone, holding it in front of its mouth as it released the highest-pitched sound Kaz had yet heard from one of the round little beings. Kaz blinked as mana flowed out of the mosui’s mouth along with the sound, and when the mana hit the crystal, it bounced back, returning echoed mana and a bit of yellow ki. The tentacles surrounding the mosui’s nostrils waved eagerly as the ki passed through them.

Carefully, the mosui placed the crystal in a pouch that hung from its neck, then handed several of the little mana-stones to the miner, who clutched them to his chest, glaring around at the crowd, all of whom were suddenly eyeing him as if he had become food himself.

The process of exchanging ki-crystals for mana-stones continued until all twenty of the miners had delivered their crystals, and then the mosui vanished again without a word. Kaz half-expected the thin miner with the handful of stones to be assaulted, but no one moved, all eyes remaining on the empty square hollow in the floor where the platform had rested.

Another flash of red ki that made Kaz blink painfully, and a husede stood there. There was an enormous pot behind him, along with a stack of stone bowls. Each miner came forward again, forming a surprisingly orderly line, and traded in the stones they had just acquired for a bowl of some kind of stew. Dax and Surta were among them, though Kaz hadn’t seen them receive stones. They must have gotten them from the mosui when they were chosen to help capture Kaz.

Each male received one bowl of stew for each mana-stone they traded in. When it came to Dax’s turn, he handed over two stones, accepting two bowls of stew. He stepped to the side and began to eat the first without waiting for everyone else to get theirs.

The male who had turned in the yellow crystal was one of the first to get his food, and to Kaz’s surprise, he didn’t try to keep any of his stones. Instead, he turned in all of them, getting a stack of five bowls in return. Some of the stew slopped onto the ground as he tried to juggle the bowls, but he ignored it, simply thrusting his muzzle into the top-most bowl and gobbling down the contents. When it was empty, he dropped the bowl to the ground and continued on to the next.

When all the kobolds with stones had received their meals, the husede vanished again. For an instant, no one reacted, and then Surta and his minions descended on the male who had hidden the yellow crystal from them. They took his remaining two bowls of food, tearing them from his hands, and proceeded to beat him until he lay on the floor, curled up among the dribbled remains of his stew, and still Kaz saw him trying to lick the stone, getting every last drop of food.

No one attempted to help him, and no one tried to take Dax’s two bowls from him. Surta and his friends had two bowls each as well, and they sat down, eating with a leisurely enjoyment that no one else showed.

Silently, Dax approached Kaz, thrusting his second bowl into Kaz’s chest.

“Eat,” he growled, then turned and walked away. When he reached the wall, he leaned his back against it and slid down slowly, as if every part of him hurt, and stared into his bowl as steam rose up, curling around his muzzle and ears. He didn’t eat the rest until his food was cold.

Kaz looked around at the den. ‘First shift’ had departed at some point during the trade-off, leaving only the twenty kobolds of second shift and the five large, powerful males Surta had recruited to help him. Twenty-five, plus Kaz and Surta himself. The den was large enough for a tribe of a hundred or more, and without huts it echoed hollowly. Even when both shifts were there, however briefly, it had seemed far too empty.

Eventually, Kaz made his way over to the wall not far from Dax, and waited. He ate his stew, which was bland but filling. There was very little meat and a great deal of fungus in it, with none of the flavorful mosses and lichens that Kaz was used to. He supposed that made some sense, since the mosui levels were probably also infested with fulan. Some kinds of mushrooms were the only plants fulan wouldn’t kill, which meant they were probably the main source of food for those who lived here.

The other kobolds settled into sleep, forming a pile much like the one first shift had been in when Kaz arrived. None of them seemed self-conscious about the arrangement, curling into the comforting warmth of another kobold’s body, even if that kobold was neither mate nor pup. Even Surta, his friends, and the kobold who had been beaten for daring to hide his treasure from the others joined in, though they slept at opposite ends of the heap.

When only Dax and Kaz were left, and Dax had finally licked his bowl clean, Kaz turned toward the brown-furred male, a question in his eyes and his ears perked forward.

Dax, who seemed far more aware than he had been since Kaz met him, sighed and set his bowl down. “What, pup?” he asked, his voice a raspy rumble.

Kaz scooted closer, halting when Dax started to lean away from him. This put him about four feet from the other male, which was close enough to talk without being easily overheard by anyone in the pile of snoring kobolds.

“How do we get out of here?” he asked simply, sensing that Dax would have very little patience with questions.

Dax stared at him, then a rusty, creaking sound emerged from his chest. It took Kaz a moment to realize that it was laughter. When the older male was done, he leaned his head back, staring up at the distant ceiling.

“For that, I’ll answer. We don’t.” He rolled his head to the side, his black eyes meeting Kaz’s for the first time.

“I’ve been here a long time. Too long. I was one of the first to be taken, though there were some others here already when my group arrived. The lost, and the daring.” He chuckled again, the sound echoing in the hollow den. “They only had one shift, then. Split us up when there got to be too many.”

He sighed again, lowering his voice as he glanced toward the sleeping kobolds. “Don’t trust Surta. Not a word that comes from his mouth is truth. He’s no Redmane. He took the dye off a male who died a few weeks ago. Colored his fur, and suddenly, instead of a Bronzearm, he’s one of the brave Redmanes, forced from their home by the hated Bronzearms.”

Kaz frowned, curious what the other meant by ‘hated Bronzearms’, but unwilling to be sent down a different tunnel by this intriguing tidbit. “If you’ve been here that long, surely you have an idea. Surt- I heard there’s a male named Dett who found a staircase. Do you know anything about that?”

Dax snorted. “Dett. He’s the last of the ones who were here even before me. Came up here from the Deep on his spirit hunt, and lost his way. He has a warrior’s necklace, but he’s no warrior.” He lifted his fingers to touch his own necklace, which had been broken and repaired with the same piece of leather cord so many times it was nearly as tight as the collar that glinted above it.

“He survives by following behind other males, waiting until they’ve attracted the attention of any hoyi, then goes deeper in the mine while the bug is distracted. I’ve even heard that he’s killed a few miners for their crystals, but there’s no proof. Not that it would matter anyway. What happens in the mine, stays in the mine.”

Kaz felt his heart sink. “So, you think he’s lying?”

A quiet bell chimed, vibrating softly through the den, and Dax rose to his paws, shrugging. “No telling. He’s a strange one. Brags about how important his tribe is, and how someday they’ll come to save him, and kill all the mosui for daring to capture him. Otherwise, he can be trusted as much as anyone else down here, which is to say, not at all.”

He pushed away from the wall, lifting the stone bowl he held in his hand. “Put your bowl back by the platform. If they run out, they refuse to feed us until they’re returned.”

Kaz nodded, watching the warrior return his own bowl, then lie down at the outskirts of the sleeping pile. Turning his attention to the filament of ki that hung in the air before him, leading up until it vanished into the ceiling, Kaz closed his eyes.

Li was still safe, but in the box. She was very unhappy about being in the box, and had begun scratching at the inside, though so far as she could tell, she hadn’t damaged it at all, which was also very frustrating.

Kaz smiled, sending her warm thoughts and images of the two of them, curled up together. She would be sleeping in the crook of his arm, or on his chest, depending on how cold she was, and he would stroke the soft scales along her neck.

Slowly, Li calmed, and together and yet much too far apart, they slept.