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Jamie and Illyana free some dwarves from the Enchantress' control using Illyana's sword and Jamie's sense of community service.


One often-overlooked handy bonus feature of a magic quarterstaff, Jamie decided, was the way it was very helpful for bashing through locked doors. He hadn't actually found much in the way of things that might help get them home--although he was sending nearly everything he found with writing on it back to "base camp" via dupe express--but he was racking up a fairly respectable property damage total, which was satisfying in its own way.

He stepped into the next room . . . and stopped cold, knuckles whitening on the staff. The room was empty, except for seven chairs; in each of the chairs sat a dwarf, perfectly still, gazing unblinkingly at the opposite wall. Around each dwarf's neck was a wide leather collar, and from each collar--like dog tags, he thought, in mounting anger--dangled a small silver medallion.

Jamie stepped closer to examine the medallions, but the dwarves didn't so much as acknowledge his presence. As he'd half suspected, they bore the emblems of each of the seven clans: the hammer and anvil of Eitri, the chisel and pick of Dvalin, the tree of Viggr, the bull's head of Vindalfr, the loom of Nyradr, the crystal of Nidi--even the scroll of Durin. "Complete set," Jamie muttered. "Come on, guys, you're free, time to go home."

"We are the Makers," the clansman of Durin replied in a monotone. The Viggr clansman added, "We are to remain here until the Mistress wishes something made."

"It's okay, you guys, really," Jamie said, his heart sinking. "You don't have to do that anymore." He faced the Eitri clansman, and brought out his own clan token. "Look, I'm a clan-friend of Eitri, and I'm telling you, I'm here to let you go. You can go back to your families."

"We are the Makers," the Eitri dwarf replied, in the same monotone as the others. "We are to remain here until the Mistress wishes something made."

"Crap."

Elsewhere in the castle, one of Jamie's dupes tossed a book back onto a shelf and ran back out into the hall, poking his head in and out of every room he passed. He screeched to a halt, finally, when he found the person he was looking for.

"Illyana! I need some help--I found these dwarves, only they're--I dunno, brainwashed, or something, they're acting like robots, and I can't just leave them there--can you come see if you can figure out if there's anything we can do for them?"

Illyana looked up from the rather sad, tattered volume of ancient texts she'd been flipping through idly; she put it down and raised her eyebrows at the dupe. "I suppose," she said dubiously. "Your dwarves -- is there anything in particular different about them than normal dwarves?"

"The collars, probably. Can you come take a look? I don't know if there's an off-switch, or . . . all this magic stuff is me seriously out of my depth."

"Collars," Illyana repeated, looking more and more suspicious by the second. She'd heard of that kind of magic -- but it might not be what they were dealing with. "Take me," she said, leaving the book and walking purposefully to the door. "I'll see what I can do."

Jamie led Illyana down to the room with the captives in it, reabsorbing the dupe when they got there. "This is them. They just sit there staring at nothing, and every time I talk to them all they say is, they're the Makers, and they're supposed to stay here until the Mistress wants them to make something."

She nodded and took a look at the dwarves; her lips tightened when she saw the collars. She prodded them experimentally, seeing what kind of magic they'd take, and nearly jumped when the feedback hit her. Oh, that bitch. "Slave collars," she said shortly, glancing back at Jamie. "It's complicated magic. Layers of coercion . . . " Among other things, she thought grimly, trying desperately to remember what she knew about this. It hadn't been something she'd studied particularly. Her sword flashed in her hand, almost by instinct. "Bloody strong stuff, too, by the looks of it. Deep. They've been here a while." She looked at him, waiting for a reaction before jumping in.

Jamie's expression darkened. "Okay. Is there an off switch around here? Or anything you can do? I dunno if I'd be able to sleep at night, if we go off home and just leave these guys like this."

She looked at him incredulously. "An off switch?" She sighed, glancing down at her weapon, and felt guilt hit her before she could even entertain the notion of leaving him to figure all this out. Time for the act, but at least she knew this one by heart. "No, there's no off switch. I think I can break the spells with this, but -- Hel gave it to me. There's a certain risk involved; I don't know if it will react badly with this kind of magic. I don't think it will, because it let me cut my own bonds properly, but you should know that there's a very slight chance it won't work. At best. Is that acceptable?"

He shrugged. "I don't know this stuff, and you do. If you think it'll work, I trust you."

She smiled appreciatively. "I think it will," she said quietly, and approached the nearest dwarf. No reaction, but that was to be expected. She examined the collar for a moment, reminding herself that hitting the dwarf himself with the sword wasn't necessarily very smart -- not in the least because she didn't know how magical dwarves were, and she didn't want to kill it. Him. Whatever. "Here goes," she muttered, and swung expertly, hitting the collar and stopping barely a centimeter from the dwarf's skin. She was so good. The spell shattered, and the collar unlocked with a click.

The dwarf jerked bolt upright, then toppled backward, scrambling in a blind panic. "Who are--where--"

Jamie rushed forward, holding out his clan token. "We're friends. You were enslaved by the Enchantress, but you're free now."

The dwarf's eyes fastened on the medallion, and then he looked up at Jamie. "That's--" He coughed. "That's young Gunnar's work. He's king, now? How long . . ." He shook his head slowly. "Not that it matters, I suppose."

He straightened slowly, gathering what remained of his dignity. "Know that by this deed Egvald Eglafsson is in your debt. And yours, Lady."

"Right. Thanks," Illyana said over her shoulder, heading for the next six now that Test Subject Number One was alive and kicking. She did love that sword. The collars were off in a matter of seconds; now that she knew the right amount of pressure, she did them in rapid succession, and she smiled as the last one unlocked. "There," she said, clearly pleased with herself. "That's better."

Jamie grinned over at her from where he and Egvald were pulling the last of the other dwarves back to their feet and explaining the situation. "Thanks for the help. That's a heck of a sword."

She leaned against the wall opposite, disinclined to help with the reintroduction into society. "It is, isn't it?" She glanced down at it fondly, then smiled. "It's served what I can only assume is its purpose. Glad I could put it to some use that wasn't scaring the townsfolk." She paused thoughtfully. "Not that scaring the townsfolk wasn't fun, mind you, but this was a bit more productive, considering I wouldn't own anything that woman had touched if you paid me." The concept of everyone else looting the castle made her shudder; there were some things, in her opinion, better left in Asgard.

"What, no souvenirs?" Jamie asked dryly. "The castle is in disarray," he added to the dwarves, in their language. "Can you arm yourselves and escape without further aid? There is a resupply outpost maybe a half-day's hard ride from here."
"Aye, I know the place," Egvald said, and then smiled bitterly. "And I know better than any where the armories are in this place. We'll do well enough." All the dwarves bowed again to Jamie and Illyana, and made their way out.

For lack of understanding dwarvish (and really, why did anyone speak it, even the dwarves? Bloody useless language), Illyana merely smiled. "When I visit as a tourist, I'll buy a t-shirt," she said dryly. "Until then, I see no reason to bring potentially dangerous things home with me."

Jamie nodded. "I earned or was given or--well, assuming the spell lets us bring the horses, otherwise I dunno what we'll do with them, it'd be cruel to just turn them loose--bought everything I'm bringing home." He shrugged. "And maybe I don't know a whole lot about magic, but it doesn't strike me as the world's best idea to steal from a witch who already probably wouldn't mind important bits of us a la mode."

"Bloody stupid idea is what it is. I mean, the woman is clearly a psychopath, and her magic is not at all friendly -- those collars were made of some of the worst magic I've ever seen." She shook her head and pushed her hair out of her eyes irritably. "All I know is that I refuse to exorcise anything anyone drags home."

Jamie grinned. "So what you're saying is, I walk my own damn horse?"

"Damn right," she retorted, and grinned back at him. "Although the horses are the least of our problems. I'm just worried someone's going to bring a cursed frog or something back and we'll end up chasing it all over the house."

"And it'll end up having Tadpoles of Doom in all the toilets, and they'll get into the pipes, and then we'll never get any rest. We'd better go make sure nobody touches any amphibians, huh?"

"I would if I thought it would do any good, but I'll have to settle for not fixing anything they break by stealing from a powerful sorceress." Illyana thought briefly of what she would do to anyone stealing her stuff, and smiled slightly. "Hopefully they'll all have more sense than to take anything that might require a state of emergency later on."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Whose friends are _you_ talking about?"

"Point." She looked pained. "But one can hope."

Jamie shook his head, grinning. "I keep telling you, optimism is my schtick. C'mon, let's get back to it. I want a tuna fish sandwich in the worst way."