Bodnut shrugged out of his armor, letting it fall to the floor of his cabin where it sloshed around in the brine. It was heavy, crafted by the skilled hands of a Dragon Republic smith. For a dwarf, by a dwarf, was the slogan.

Not that slogans mattered in the Republic. All was shared, all was equal. If a warrior had need of armor, he need but visit the armoury. Swords and axes too.

Or at least that was the fairy tale that the Dragons told the citizens. The High Dragon, a dwarf of the Inner Ring named Drodjik, loved this pretty lie.

Of course Drodjik has never walked into battle with his hands empty, waiting for an armed dwarf to fall before him so that he could pick up a blade and fight for his life.

Bodnut was not bitter. He knew that even empty-handed, he could best any man armed and mounted. The lies his Republic told itself were not truly his concern.

Let them believe in the greatness of our nation, with a loaf on every table and a roast on every spit.

His people had had enough of shame and disappointment. They deserved strong drink and pleasant fantasies.

The ship tossed, cresting a great wave and beginning its descent into a trough. As it struck the rise of the next wave, the deck lurched, and Bodnut nearly lost his footing.

"We dwarves are not a seafaring folk," he complained.

"Indeed, your griping is sure to solve our problems. Perhaps if you complain a little louder the Council of Dragons will fly to us and we can wing our way to our destination."

"If they had but wings to fly, I just might."

The other dwarf turned over in his hammock and faced the hull, grumbling.

"What was that, Kopiye?" Bodnut growled.

"Bah, I said end your puling and let me sleep."

Bodnut bristled, then his surly demeanour waned.

"Ah p'raps you're right."

He lurched towards his own hammock and, despite the pitch and roll of the deck, he managed to find his way into it.

Sleep had trouble finding him as he swayed back and forth. Perhaps it needed a sextant and a clear sky, and when at last it did find him, it was troubled. Bodnut dreamt of men with short beards and bright eyes, comfortable in their superiority, growing lazy and fat and less wary.

They were not a warrior race. Not at all like him and his kin and clan. Bodnut was born on a battlefield, and he would no doubt die on one. He preferred it to all this sneaking around, hiding his true self.

Dwarves were not made to spy and sew dissent. They were forged in fire, as it was for the dwarves of old, the first of his skein back in the beginning. When the dragon breathed fire on stones and gave them life.

The thought of this brought Bodnut peace as the ship heaved, and at last sleep found him.

He snored loudly.

***

The cry of Land resounded through the ship from stem to stern. Bodnut and Kopiye were already up, trimming their long beards after the fashion of men. Men, the dwarves laughed, who could not grow beards long enough to cover their delicate necks.

It was a bitter shame. Neither dwarves had trimmed their beards in all their lives, as was the custom of the Republic. It was said that the beard of the High Dragon hung in two braids down to his knees.

Still, it would do them no good to present themselves as Republic dwarves. But with their hair shorn, cropped close, they might just pass for Garden variety men.

Hired blades, not soldiers. It would raise fewer questions. The wealthy Republic dwarf they were escorting however kept his face as smooth as an elf woman from the Shield. This baffled them, but they accepted it with a stony silence.

What is a dwarf without his beard? Bodnut thought, but wisely kept this thought to himself. This dwarf was wealthy beyond reckoning. More coin than Bodnut could count in several lifetimes. He did not know how such a dwarf could amass such wealth, especially in a land of equity for all.

Equally poor, he thought. I know from where this one's coin flows. The sweat and blood of my kinsmen.

"Bah!" he grunted.

"Keep your Bah," Kopiye chided. "You sound like an old woman."

"This old woman could cleave you from top to toe," muttered Bodnut.

Kopiye smiled.

"Come, brother. We have much to prepare."

They left behind their armour for other dwarves, may it serve them well. They would not see it again and would find another set when they made the return voyage.

If they made the return voyage.

If we're not discovered and taken captive or slain, Bodnut thought. No, he was not bitter. At least, not much.

"I will miss the weight of you in my hands," Bodnut said as he lay his broadsword in a weapons chest, wrapped in leather so as not to dull the edges.

"Would you two like some time alone?" Kopiye jested.

Bodnut did not rise to the bait. When Kopiye saw his associate was not making for good sport, he dropped the taunts and handed him a bundle of garments tied up with twine.

They both untied their bundles and held out the clothes. The silly outfits left them feeling surly. The breeches ended just below the knee, with long stockings and puffy sleeved blouses. The shoes had brass buckles. At least the cloaks were heavy and black, and large enough to cover over the embarrassing raiment of men of the Commonwealth.

"Has someone mistaken us for women, or do the men of the Garden really wear this ridiculous garb?"

Kopiye was, if anything, even less pleased. He scrinched his face, as though having smelled some rotting dead thing. Then he spat on the deck.

"They can't be serious!"

"It's a small matter, Citizen," said Kopiye, using the title of every dwarf of the Republic. "Put it on and forget it."

Bodnut put it on, and forgot it.

"So we are to escort this Myagky... where again?"

"A public house, without the city, not far from the wharf."

This meeting is indeed clandestine, he thought.

"And who is it we are meeting? Some merchant I hear."

"Apparently he's been elevated to a Lord."

"A Lord," Bodnut whistled. "Whom did he have to kill to gain such a title?"

Kopiye shrugged. "From what I hear he was something of a snake oil merchant. But now he has his eyes on the great prize and thinks our Myagky can aid his ambitions."

"Can one such as this truly purchase the Crown of the Commonwealth? If that's true then they are more corrupt than I thought. It makes me glad I am a dwarf of the Republic."

The lie rolled easily from his lips. He knew full well the corruption of the Dragons. It was simply humorous that the vaunted Commonwealth with its airs and pretensions was equally fallible. He expected to dispel a great many myths about the ways of this adversary.

"Do you think the women really shave off all of their hair?" he mused.

"The men too, as I hear it told. Legs, under the arms..."

"Even the little wilderness between the..."

"Legs?" Kopiye interrupted. "Yes, even there."

Bodnut raised his eyebrows and blew out his cheeks. He tried to imagine it, but found the thought disturbing.

A great clangor turned their heads, though it was outside their quarters.

"Anchor," said Kopiye. "Come, Citizen. Let's make haste."

The sky above was black and enigmatic. Without moon or starlight to guide them, they would have to guide themselves by the little twinkling lights of the braziers on shore.

Bodnut and Kopiye climbed over the side and down into the boats where they joined a dozen sturdy dwarves all costumed as men. They secured their satchels and assisted the wealthy Myagky to a bench. Then they took up an oar and began to row for shore, for the lights.

Myagky was indeed bald of face, and not a warrior. But he kept his tongue, and so too did his escorts. They knew not to underestimate this fragile dwarf. A careless word or tone with such as him would soon see their families in the street and them stuck in a mine till they died. Or worse.

They hauled away on the oars with the others till they were near the shore. Then they muffled them with cloth so the sound of their approach could be masked.

Give me an axe, some heads, and some room to swing over this, Bodnut thought. I much prefer harvesting a two-legged crop on a field of war than this skirmish of secrets and disguises.

At length, they made shore, perhaps half a league from the lights. Their feet hit the sand and they unloaded their supplies. Myagky required a hand to disembark.

Two dwarves remained, and they returned with the boat. The ship would be gone over the horizon before dawn's light began to filter into the sky.

A shadow detached from the trees by the beach and beckoned them to follow. Myagky waved them along. Bodnut and Kopiye hoisted their satchels and several sacks that clinked lightly when jostled.

Such coin I have never seen in life, Bodnut marvelled. With one sack alone I could buy food for my village for many an age.

Yet for all this plotting and intrigue, he suspected little would change. His village would still be tightening their belts come winter. The Myagkys and Lord Snakeoils would remain rich, and the poor people of the Garden and the Republic would feast on the lies of their Lords, growing thinner by the day.

So it has always been, he thought. And ever shall be.

The shadow spoke in a low voice to Myagky. "My noble Lord is waylaid. He bids you come to one of his holdings, a cottage by the sea and there await his arrival. To take up residence at the inn for too long would invite questions best avoided."

Myagky nodded and the entourage followed, away from the coastal village, north. Nearer the Capitol.