39. Honor Code

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The children and Dr. Pym were guided by four Dwarf guards, as well as Captain Robbie McLaur, through a series of corridors and stairwells, to the the throne room of King Hamish. 

"Not that it's any of my business, wizard," Captain Robbie addressed Dr. Pym in the torchlit hallway, before they were pushed into their final destination. "But for the sake of these children, I'll warn you that my brother is not a Dwarf to be trifled with."

Dr. Pym just smiled warmly at the other man. "We appreciate your concern, Captain, but I do believe we can handle ourselves."

The Dwarf shrugged. "Fair enough; it's your necks. Just don't like seeing children chopped into bits and pieces when it can be avoided. Old fashioned like that, I suppose."

For a moment, they all just stood there, Kate and Michael exchanging concerned looks. Then the door flung open and a man carrying a tower of plates, littered with the remnants of a great feast, came walking briskly past them. "More ale!" He called down the corridor. "The king demands more ale!"

"Oh dear," murmured Dr. Pym. "I do hope he's not too drunk."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Robbie replied disapprovingly. 

With that, the trio was shepherded through the enormous golden doors. Kate took her brother's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. He was grinning, unable to help himself from being excited. Even though everything they had been told about Hamish was downright dreadful, Michael was still thrilled by the prospect of meeting a real Dwarf king. 

"The prisoners requested by King Hamish have arrived!" A herald announced as the children and the wizard entered the throne room. It was enormous, overwhelmingly so, full of marble pillars and vaulted ceilings. It was opulent, too, even more disgustingly opulent than the Countess's gala illusion had been. The ceilings were inlaid with diamonds, the floors embedded with precious stones, rubies and pearls. Murals tinged with silver and gold covered the walls, depicting Dwarfish victories in battle against goblins and trolls, dragons and hoards of salmac-tar. The copious amounts of luxury on its own made Kate's stomach turn, but then there was the mess...

"It's a pigsty," she told Michael in a scoffing, derisive voice.

All around were stacks of dirty plates, half-empty flagons of ale, and unconscious, filthy dwarves. Exhausted servers bustled about the great hall, exchanging empty plates and cups for full ones. Robbie McLaur, who was still at the children's side, growled in displeasure. 

"King Hamish is known for his appetite," Dr. Pym explained to the children. "A feast may go on for days and weeks at a time."

Michael's smile had fallen, and now he looked confused, a little hurt, even. "This isn't right. Dwarves shouldn't behave like this."

"Aye, lad. Truer words have never been spoken," Robbie agreed.

Then he waved his arm and shooed them forwards. From across the hall, a new voice, cajoling and crude, bellowed; "Well lookee, lookee! If it ain't the conjurer! And he's got brats with 'im too! Bring 'em here! Bring 'em here!"

The children had to step around drunken Dwarves to get to the center of the table, where King Hamish McLaur lounged in a throne. On either side of him were rows of greasy faced Dwarves, most whom were unconscious, or at least listless. 

"Very 'appy you could trouble to visit, Magician. Ha! You prat!" Hamish jeered. 

He was the largest Dwarf the children had ever seen. Though only the a handful of inches taller than Kate, he had a stout and heavy body. His fine robes were stained, his beard was matted and sprinkled with crumbs, and his face was grimy. He looked like a bearded warthog that had been rolling in the mud. He made the likes of Bowery orphans look spick-and-span clean. 

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