I arrived at Eagles Reach, also known as Eaglereach, late in Reap. I had timed my journey to coincide with the yearly smith's contest, held on the Dwarven New Year. But have a care, dear Reader, and do not go blindly to Eagles Reach next Reap, hoping to see the great smiths at work, on my say-so. For all their precision and attention to detail in other matters, the dwarven calendar is quite arbitrary, and I was unable to understand it despite the best efforts of several of my dwarven acquaintances. I believe they were quite vexed with me, though they were at pains not to show it. The dwarven year is considerably longer than our own, so that the holidays perambulate at will through the seasons. I dare say this system works quite well underground, but for surface dwellers, it is a wrench to think of celebrating, let us say, Shavrot during Sow one year, and Fell another.
Eaglereach is a dwarven settlement carved out of the northern face of a geological improbability--Eagle Mountain, a large butte of dark veined rock that suddenly rears up alongside of the Great Thunder River far north of Ramsgate. The mine fathers have paid tribute to Eire for the mineral rights for many years. The amount is rumored to be extreme, yet so is the wealth reputed to be drawn out of its mines. Many a young dwarf has come here to make a name for himself and perhaps save up enough for a stake of his own when he returns to his family in the northern highlands.
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| Dave Choat |
The town is situated at the foot of the north face of Eagle Mountain. Viewed from the harbor, "the Anvil of Eire," as it is sometimes called, is built of stone with streaks of grey and white in nearly equal proportions, so that its predominant colour cannot reliably be guessed by one who is not a dwarf. Wharves and quays extend along the riverfront. Most other construction is at ground level, hidden from the river by a curtain wall that is interrupted at intervals by small round domed towers. Other more lofty structures seem to cling precariously to the face of Eaglemount. A closer inspection reveals balconies, windows and various architectural features carved out of the steep flanks of the butte itself. Though the patience of the dwarves is well-known, the sheer amount of work that has gone into these buildings is awe-inspiring.
Some of the stores and temples look as though they are built of wood, but this is a trick of the eye. They are actually built of well-hewn and perfectly matched blocks of coloured stone from the mount's many quarries. The infamous Lady Arla Bleys, who tried to outlaw the dressmaker's guild in Norcastle because, in her words, "not a one of them knows the difference between lavender and lilac", would not be able to fault this example of the dwarven art of weaving colour and pattern into a harmonious whole.
In the crannies of these buildings trailing plants covered with pretty mauve or yellow flowers take root, and everywhere, along the tops of the walls, and in the cracks of the houses, are ferns and flowering plants. The plants must get a good deal of their nourishment from the rich, thick air, which seems composed of 85 percent river fogs, and the remainder of the odors of Frangipani, orange flowers, magnolias, oleanders, and roses, combined with others that demonstrate that the inhabitants do not regard industrial smells (or noises) with the smallest degree of interest. The myriad swallows, river kestrels, gulls, pidgeons and other birds seem to take no notice.
Five streets radiate from their principal mineheads, and end at the curtain wall, having wood rails let into them to enable easy transportation of ore. The other ways are neatly planned out at right angles to them, with the four major crossing streets being Iron, Steel, Jewel and Mithril. These are offset at every other block, preventing long sightlines, except for near the Argent Field, the large open commons near the center of Steel and Iron Street where the clans and mine owners hold the annual smithing contests. All of the avenues are paved or metalled, and none exceed a certain width, which is rumoured to be slightly less than the width of a mature red dragon.
The shops, which fringe these streets in an uneven line, are like rooms with one side taken out. Their floors are generally raised on a bed of stone a little above street level. Inside, the shops are lined with shelves, on which are placed bundles of gay-coloured Eire cottons and shawls, Beltesheim clocks, and delicate but vividly coloured glassware; or--what makes a brave show--polished steel and iron wares. Here and there you come across a baker's, with trays of oat fritters or oat bran cakes of tempting odor; and there is no lack of blacksmiths and armorers. In these shops are usually to be seen the master and his partners with a few friends, all exceedingly busy, having a social shout together over a few coals and an anvil or six: a chat I cannot call it.
There is usually a counter across the middle, over which customers and casual callers alike love to haggle. This long and intricate process is a popular spectator sport. In particularly delicate transactions, you may find dwarves cheering on the combatants, banging on the counter and arguing for all the world as if they were at a cockfight. Some brutal tradesmen, notably alchemists, who presumably regard this as hazardous to their wares, affix tremendous nails, with their points outwards, to the fronts of their counter tops, in order to keep their visitors at a respectful distance.
In every direction one sees dwarves walking at a brisk pace, their hobnailed boots making clomps and clicks on the streets, carrying huge burdens. They bear logs or planks of wood, blocks of building stone, vessels containing various liquids, and baskets of root vegetables. Others pull carts laden with barrels and packages. As the great majority of the inhabitants of Eaglereach pay no attention whatever to where they are going, either in this world or the next, the confusion and noise are out of all proportion to the size of the town; and when, as frequently happens, a section of actively perambulating burden-bearers charges recklessly into a sedentary section, the members of which have dismounted their loads and are standing beside them, right in the middle of the fair way, to have a friendly yell with some acquaintances, the row becomes terrific. This is usually broken up by the Corners, or what passes for street wardens. They are found at crossroad houses, and seem to have some kind of flexible arrangement regarding what the public peace is and who gets fined for various discrepancies. I say flexible because the rules seem to get more invasive as one moves street by street up towards the mine heads. Certainly the crowds are more restrained and orderly there.
I have also frequently seen them playing Rakpul, and another game, the name whereof I know not, but it is played with little sticks of bone stuck in the ground, and "something on the rub," or what corresponds to it; although they must be aware that, by this indulgence in the pleasures of gambling, they will undoubtedly incur the penalty of having mine donkeys graze upon their graves--yea, even on the graves of their parents. They should think on this, for Rakpul, when all's said and done, is a desperately dull game.
In among these stout people walk stately Eiremen, smaller Mede Dwellers, swarthy Khozaki, aloof River Folk and wealthy mine owners. And there are stocky, well-attended Dwarven Lords, who walk with a peculiarly fine, elastic carriage. Their graceful garb consists of a long colourful loose-sleeved shirt, over which they wear either a short red mohair or silk jacket, or a deep bright blue affair, not altogether unlike a Bibliotecha gown, only with more stuff in it and more folds. They are undoubtedly the gentlemen of this population, and they are an important faction in the town.
For, although Father Groín, priest of one of the numerous dwarven deities, admits that they are always ready to side with the dwarven priests against the drink traffic, or any vices that could impair productivity, here their cooperation ceases, and he complains that they exercise a great influence over their miners. He believes that immoral appetites prevail among them, and are propagated by them, but what a dwarf perceives as the difference between a moral and immoral dwarf is difficult for any human to understand. Judged by the criterion of every-day conduct, the Dwarf is in nine cases in ten, the best person in Eaglereach. But he is, I grieve to say, not thoroughly orthodox. The practices of Eaglereach dwarves differ substantially from those of their cousins at home, and often tradition has broken under the weight of expediency. Fraternization with other races has changed them in ways that few dwarven matriarchs would sanction. But I daresay they have these learned eccentricities rooted out of them once they return to the highlands.
*with apologies to Mary Kingsley