Free The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic) by Patrick Weekes Page B

the Titan, and its buildings, rising up behind the walls, were tall and strangely angled.
    “It’s because they live in the mountains,” Tern said, no longer quite so green now that she was on land again. She pointed at the buildings. “Dwarves are all about economy of space, so their houses are narrow and built to accommodate slopes.”
    Icy stared at the great planes of angled stone in surprise. “In the Empire, we heard that most of the dwarves lived underground.”
    “Nah, that’s just a legend,” said Tern. “Also kind of racist.”
    “My apologies.”
    “They do a lot of mining, but they live aboveground, just like the rest of us. Dwarven society has three big groups. See that?” Tern pointed at one building in the distance, a great spire that rose up to a needle-thin point. “That’s the Hall of Masters, for the crafters who build all the expensive stuff we use in the Republic. And that one over there, the dome? That’s the High Cave, for the miners. The dome is shorter, but covers more area. Dwarven society is all about that balance. Not identical, but equal.”
    “What’s the third group?” Kail asked. “I don’t see anything else big enough for whatever that group is.”
    “The walls,” Loch said, and turned to look at Tern.
    “The Guardsmen,” Tern said, nodding. “There are a lot of things out there in those mountains that don’t like people very much. The dwarves don’t often start trouble, but they’re very good at taking care of themselves.”
    “How do you know so much about them?” Kail asked.
    Tern reached into her many-pocketed brown dress and produced a silver-tipped crossbow bolt. “Where did you think I had all these made?”
    Loch smiled as a group of dwarven officials came out from behind a massive cargo airship and approached. They were sturdy men and women a little shorter than Tern and built like they could shrug off a rockslide. One of them wore chainmail fine enough to be ornamental, while the others wore the loose-flowing shirts and breeches of merchants. “Afternoon,” she called. “Justicar Loch. No cargo. Docking fees can be applied to the government account.” She produced her badge and showed it to them.
    The nearest dwarf, the one in the ornamental armor, examined the badge, then frowned. “Welcome, Justicar,” she said, sounding more grudging than anything else. “Do ye wish to share any information wi’ our local security teams?”
    It was a warmer welcome than Loch had been expecting. “Not at this time,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “This is a background investigation. I’m not currently pursuing anything that would threaten your city.”
    At that, the dwarven official looked relieved. “Understood, Justicar. Please enjoy yer visit to the city. If ye need any assistance, our security teams will be pleased to offer information. Your docking registration, to be billed to the Republic government offices.” She passed Loch a slip of paper.
    “If ye have leisure time,” another official added, “this pamphlet lists entertainment activities suitable for human visitors, including casinos, fine dining, sports and recreation, and Irke’desar , the Bounty of the Past, our new publicly accessible museum offering historical artifacts legally purchased from a variety of different cultures.”
    “Thank ye again for coming,” said the third official as the second pressed a folded pamphlet into Loch’s hands. “Please enjoy yer stay.”
    Loch nodded politely as the dwarves trooped off. When they were gone, she looked over at Tern.
    “Yeah, pretty much always like that,” Tern said. “They’re very polite, though.”
    Kail shook his head. “I’ve been on the Spire for too long. That much directness just cuts right through you.” He glanced at Loch. “Also, did you notice how they didn’t ask to double-check your badge or insist on searching Iofegemet or anything?”
    “I do not concede that this is the airship’s name,” said