"Magistrix, is it?" she said with an amused smile. "I'm not soapstone, Chert, so don't try to carve me. Your wife has told me all about your adventures. I think my husband wants you around just to take his mind off our boring life at home."

Chert laughed. "Oh, wouldn't we all love to be bored these days, Magi… Vermilion." He gave Opal another squeeze and wandered back to Cinnabar and the others.

"My Chert is a good man," Opal said fiercely and suddenly, as if someone might have been about to suggest otherwise. "Everything he's done has been for others."

Before Vansen could tell her how much he agreed, a stir ran through the chapel-a sense of wonder and alarm that Vansen felt before he either heard or saw anything, a primal thrill of warning that ran up his spine. He turned and for a moment only saw Aesi'uah in the doorway-a powerful, captivating figure, no doubt, but someone he looked on almost with fondness. Then the others came silently in behind her.

It was not the full, staggering panoply of Qar types, but even this small embassy had enough variety to make those who had never seen them-perhaps three-quarters of those assembled-blanch and blink and mutter to themselves. Most frightening was the immense creature known as Hammerfoot, a war leader of the Deep Ettins, taller and heavier than even the largest cave bears. His jutting brow overshadowed his face so completely that nothing could be seen of his eyes except two gleaming coals far back in the darkness. He was wrapped in furs and armor made of stone plates held together by massive leather straps, and his two-fingered hands were each as wide as one of the Funderling shields. The giant found his way to the far side of the table and then sat down on the floor, almost knocking the table over when he nudged it with his great chest.