Dust Song (Dwarvish Dirty Dozen Book 3) by Aaron D. Schneider & Michael Anderle

Author:Aaron D. Schneider & Michael Anderle [Schneider, Aaron D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2022-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I know you are ignoring me.”

Torbjorn ground his teeth but continued his silence. Whatever he said would quickly devolve into shouting, so the dwarf commander kept his peace and focused on other matters. “Continue with the report.” Torbjorn forced his voice to remain calm, cool, and professional.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Finally, Torbjorn’s patience failed. “Fordwan Gromic!” he barked, his voice echoing down the corridor. “Report!”

“Five accounted for, sir,” Gromic replied so smartly that Torbjorn could hear the reflexive salute in his voice. “Remaining members not yet accounted for but remain at large, as per recent intelligence. Current standing is poor, sir, with four dwans requiring adequate sleeping accommodations.”

The dwarf commander listened dutifully for the subsequent pause.

“Dwan Mabon,” he called after a beat. “Have you been able to make use of the sleeping accommodations we acquired on your behalf?”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Mabon responded haltingly. “The blanket’s doing well, sir. Um, thank you for, uh, requesting it for me. I feel bad because—”

“Enough of that, Dwan,” Gromic interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. “Commander asked about the adequacy of your sleeping accommodations, not your misplaced guilt.”

“Sorry. Oh, uh, I mean, sorry, Commander,” the manling muttered. Torbjorn imagined the blush rising in his cheeks. “Sleeping accommodations adequate, sir.”

Torbjorn smiled despite himself. Lad had some steel to him, but he was so young. The dwarf hoped he’d have a chance to see what became of the boy, even if each day, that looked less likely.

“Very good, dwan,” Torbjorn intoned, nodding even though he knew Mabon couldn’t see him. “Carry on, Fordwan.”

Before Gromic could continue his report, an irritated voice shouted from Klaus’ cell. “Torbjorn, for the love of Erduna, what is the point of all this?”

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Torbjorn’s voice came back strong and steely. “Proceed, Fordwan.”

“Yes, sir,” Gromic grumbled and gave a shallow cough. “Sustenance remains mediocre, sir, with all subsequent requests for improvement being ignored by Supply so far. Efforts to supplement rations have produced negligible improvements.”

It was quiet enough in the dungeon that the indignant sniff from a few cells over resounded.

“Fordwan Waelon, care to expound?” Torbjorn asked, reproof in his tone. “Or do you simply need us to wait while you blow your snout?”

Soles scuffed on stone as the former ranger straightened. “Apologies on behalf of my snout, sir,” Waelon thundered with parade-ground decorum. “Nothing to add other than results regarding supplementation will continue to be negligible for the foreseeable future, sir.”

Torbjorn wiggled a finger in his ear as he tried not to wince in preparation for the next blasting reply.

“Why is that, Fordwan?” the commander asked, knowing the answer, if not this day's current iteration.

“Because this place is not fit for rats, Commander!” the former ranger bellowed. “This hole is only fit for worms and beetles, and Juben ate the last of those some time ago.”

The coughs and cleared throats that rose covered up, however poorly, the subsequent snickers. Torbjorn allowed their amusement to play out since these moments were as important as the rest of what they were doing.

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