Some of the annoyance faded from Nucai’s gaze as it came to rest on Kaz, but then his eyes flickered to Lianhua and it returned.

“What are you still doing there?” Nucai demanded, sounding less than pleased.

Kaz indicated Lianhua. He was about to take a risk, but it was a small one, since he was certain the human would have said the same, if she’d been given a chance. “My friend is attempting to find information about an ancient civilization called the Diushi,” he said. “She hopes to find such information here, so we haven’t left yet.”

Nucai’s eyes narrowed, and the pen in his hand bobbled, smearing ink across the page. It looked like Nucai had started a new scroll since Kaz saw him last, because the top edge hadn’t yet spilled off of the table.

For a moment, Kaz thought the old male was angry, but then the corners of his mouth twitched, and he began to laugh. Vaporous gray wisps trailed from his nostrils as he tilted his head back, and for an instant, his pen actually stopped, seeming as shocked as Kaz himself. Nucai’s laughter ceased as abruptly as it had begun, and then he pointed one long, gnarled finger at Lianhua.

Beside Kaz, Lianhua’s hand started moving, her pen inking sure strokes across the page until she looked up, and then her hand stopped again, and her mouth fell open. She seemed to be trying to speak, but no sound emerged, and Kaz wasn’t certain if that was because the sight of Nucai had rendered her speechless, or if Nucai was causing the effect somehow.

In the mirror, Nucai’s hand began to move again, but he didn’t look away from Lianhua. “You wish to know about the Diushi?” he asked.

Lianhua nodded vigorously, apparently still unable to say a word.

The image of the white-haired male tapped the table briskly before pointing at Kaz. “Then come, and bring the kobold.” With that, the mirror returned to its original reflective surface, showing Kaz a powerfully built young kobold with very short blue fur, holding a copper fuergar with glittering eyes and an offended look on its fuzzy face.

Lianhua stared, then reached up and tried to tuck some loose strands back into the top coil of her hair. Her hand was shaking, but when she looked over at Kaz, there was no fear in her expression, even though Kaz was absolutely certain there should be.

“Kaz,” she whispered,”I think you may be right after all. That man looked almost exactly like one of the paintings we have of the Diushi emperors. They all had the same coloring,” she gestured to herself, “and were very tall and thin. Of course, none of them looked old when they stepped down, but it has been a very long time since then.”

Kaz tilted his head, absently stroking Li’s scales. She was bombarding him with demands that he relay the brief conversation, which she had once again missed, and he tried to answer Lianhua and fulfill the dragon’s request at the same time.

“I thought you said there was nothing interesting here? And that it would take a very powerful cultivator to live this long.”

Lianhua pointed to him. “Nothing interesting here then. But what if they found something? What if whatever it was is the reason why the last emperor vanished? Or what if it wasn’t what was here, but what they planned to create?”

She seemed to realize that her last question might be one he didn’t want to hear, because she stopped and bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I don’t mean to imply that you’re a thing- I mean, that you’re some kind of craft project, or-”

She buried her face in her hands and groaned, and Kaz took pity on her. Sighing, he said, “Whatever happened then, wherever my people came from, we exist now. I exist. What matters is what I do with my life, not where I came from in the first place.”

It was a thought he’d had many times recently, though he hadn’t had to apply it to his entire species before. While he was working his way back up through the mosui levels, he had realized that his own personal history might be much more complicated than he had ever known. He’d also begun to truly understand just how much difference a leader made in a tribe.

On the mining level, Surta had been in command, and he was a selfish, weak-minded leader. When Kaz reached the yumi pools, however, he met Eld, who worked hard to make sure that every kobold on his level was fed, safe, and as happy as it was possible to be without the freedom to choose their own paths.  

Kaz had grown up believing that kobold tribes cared only about their own members, and that power and position were their top priorities. His mother, Oda, had been the chief of the Broken Knives, and she ruled with a mithril fist. To her, emotion and kindness were weaknesses, and Kaz had always been weak.

But what Oda thought, what she had taught him, whatever she had gone through to make her so cold, even to her own pups, none of that was his problem any more. Kaz was going to leave the mountain, and when he did, it was possible he would never meet another kobold in his life. So why should their history matter to him? He was Kaz, friend of the dragon, Li, and his future had nothing to do with the past.

He looked up, meeting Lianhua’s eyes as she lowered her hands, and he was surprised to see a hint of sadness there. Then she smiled, and it was gone, but he wondered what part of his declaration had made her pity him.

“Do you not want to meet this Nucai, then?” she asked. “It’s pretty obvious he has no intention of talking to me, at least not without you. That’s… suspicious, to say the least. I think I need to find him, but we can leave you in the Deep city, at least for however long it takes to convince him to tell me what he knows.”

Kaz hesitated. For a while, he had thought that he wanted to find out what caused his tribe to leave the Deep, but eventually he had come to the conclusion he had just shared with her. The story of the Broken Knives didn’t matter, which meant there was nothing for him in the kobold city. He didn’t really want to seek out Nucai, but he also didn’t get the feeling that the ancient male wanted to hurt him, and Kaz had promised Lianhua that he would help her find out what happened to the Diushi. If Nucai would only speak to her if she brought Kaz with her, then Kaz would go.

“No,” he said finally. Somehow, he was certain that Nucai could tell Lianhua everything she needed to know, and Kaz might as well find out for sure where the kobolds had come from, as long as they were at it. Perhaps Lianhua was mistaken, and the kobolds were like the husede, stolen from wherever their original home had been in order to serve the ancients.

Meeting her eyes, he said, “I’ll go. We’ll find your answers, and then we’ll leave the mountain. Together.”

Li whistled querulously, and Kaz chuckled. “Yes, and we’ll find your family, too.”

Privately, Kaz doubted that the blue parent dragon could have survived its battle with the much larger and healthier black dragon. Still, Li had had nine siblings and another parent, and surely the black dragon hadn’t gotten all of them. That meant some of them should still be out there, and from what Lianhua said, there weren’t many dragons, so it was possible that they might be able to track down the little brood. If not, Kaz would at least make sure Li was able to return to her own kind if she wanted to.

Lianhua smiled, her hand lifting as if she would touch him. “You truly are amazing, Kaz,” she said. “And a far better friend than I deserve.”

Kaz turned away, pretending not to notice the look on her face as he avoided her hand. He had gotten more comfortable with being touched over the last few weeks, but he was still feeling unsettled after their earlier conversation, and talking to Nucai hadn’t helped. He hadn’t even been able to bring himself to ask if Nucai, Zhangwo, or someone else had created kobolds by feeding fulan-contaminated cores to humans.

Opening the door, Kaz found himself face to face with Qiyi, who stumbled back awkwardly. Thabil was back at the table, and at some point, Dax had joined her. It looked as if Kaz had interrupted some kind of argument, because Dax’s fur was standing up, and Thabil was scowling. Both members of the Council settled back as Kaz stepped into the room, however, leaving no hint of whatever had upset them.

Behind him, Lianhua followed, quietly closing the door behind her. As it snicked shut, she stepped up beside Kaz, looking at the two husede and the kobold.

“We’re leaving,” she said without any preamble. “If possible, I’d like to take copies of some of Zhangwo’s records. Could the husede help with that?”

Thabil was almost beaming as she said, “Of course! We have several younglings who would do well to practice their runes. If you let us know what you need, we’ll put them to work immediately. I’m sure we can get you on your way in a day or two.”

Dax looked at Thabil angrily, then his expression turned thoughtful, and he looked at Kaz, bowing deeply over the fist pressed to his chest. “I’d like to ask you a favor, if I may, Kaz.”

Kaz’s tail twitched. The older kobold was independent to a fault, which was what made him such a perfect choice to be the kobold representative on the Council. He had spent too long as a slave to easily yield any part of his newfound freedom to anyone else, including Ehlan Redmane and her daughters, but that also meant he was having difficulty forming relationships that might benefit him and the other kobolds. His pup, Eld, was in the unenviable position of running interference between Dax and everyone else, and Kaz had barely seen either of them since he freed them from captivity.

Resisting the urge to glance at Lianhua for permission, Kaz perked up his ears, indicating willingness to listen, without actually agreeing to anything.

Dax very deliberately didn’t look at Thabil as he said, “Several males have gone to the Deep, but so far, none have returned, and no one has sent messengers back. We have a number of pups whose tribes fled these levels when the fulan appeared, as well as some warriors who are… not able to fight well anymore. I’d also like to open trade between here and the Deep. Without females, there are many things the kobolds here can’t make, and though there are similar items available, those who have chosen to stay miss the familiarity of their own huts, weapons, clothing, and food.”

Thabil’s lips compressed. “I’ve told you that opening ourselves for trade will simply invite female kobolds, perhaps even entire tribes, to move here. We’re still establishing-”

“You just don’t want to share power with us!” Dax growled. “Every time I try to speak for my people, you tell me there are too few of us, and we need to think of the majority. The majority are husede! But kobolds suffered and died here just as much as you, perhaps more! We have just as much right to this place. If females or new kobolds come, then they come, and some of my warriors will be glad of it! That doesn’t mean those females  or tribes will take control. You didn’t ask my permission before you sent some of your people off to contact the rest of the husede, and if they succeed, I’m sure at least some of them will come here as well, and I-”

Kaz shifted, claws quietly scratching the stone beneath his paws. Dax and Thabil broke off, though Thabil couldn’t quite mean Kaz’s eyes.

“What do you want from me, Dax?” Kaz asked.

The warrior sighed. “There are ten levels between here and the city in the Deep. We’ve cleared most of the fulan from the levels the city occupies, since there was much here to start with. But we know there’s still at least some fulan on the last four mid-levels, and no one has figured out how to make the stairs work properly again, so it may have spread even further. Because of that, it wouldn’t be safe to ask females to travel with the males, even if we had some who weren’t Redmanes. I’m also afraid some of the creatures the recently captured kobolds have told me about may be wandering the levels below. If so, the kobolds who left may not have made it through, or messengers may think it’s too dangerous to try getting back to us.”

“Then just wait,” Thabil said, but Dax shot her another angry glare, his lip lifting to reveal sharp teeth.

Looking back at Kaz, the warrior said, “If you’re going anyway, I’d like you to take some of those who haven’t been willing to go alone or in small groups.”

Kaz immediately shook his head. “I can’t guard pups.”

Dax gave one of his rare, rough chuckles. “No. Nogz has all of the little ones in the yumi fields now, and it’s all he can do to keep them from drowning themselves in the pools or running between the niu’s hooves as they’re walking. Pups have no sense of self-preservation. There’s a group of ten males who either came from the Deep, or don’t want to stay here, but have no tribe to return to. One of them is Dett, who, ah, helped you escape the mines.”

‘Help’ was a generous word for what Dett had done, but Kaz did owe the other male for telling him how to reach the stairs up. Kaz had assumed that the little male had left as soon as he could, but now he realized that he shouldn’t have. Dett had learned a long time ago to let others take the risks instead of him, so it wasn’t surprising at all that he wouldn’t have been one of the first to leave, in spite of his oft-stated desire to return to his powerful tribe.

Reluctantly, Kaz nodded, and now he did look to Lianhua. This didn’t just involve him, after all, and with Gaoda gone, Lianhua was in command of the humans.

Lianhua looked thoughtfully from Kaz to Dax, but strangely, her gaze lingered longest on Thabil. At last, she said, “They all need to be able to run, and they have to do whatever they’re told, without question. If someone doesn’t listen, and they’re injured or killed, it’s not our responsibility.”

Kaz was surprised, since Lianhua wasn’t usually so practical. Was this change in her caused by the time she spent as a slave, or was it because she now felt the weight of being solely responsible for the lives of everyone in her party?

Unaware of Kaz’s concern, Dax’s tail began to wave gently behind him. He nodded eagerly even as Thabil scowled. “I’ll have them ready whenever you are,” Dax said, and bowed again, this time to both Kaz and Lianhua.