Echoes down the halls revealed very different scenes carved into the granite walls than the images of fire and death above. For the first time, Tali saw her people imprinted into the stonework for the first time she had entered the Deep. Pictures of dwarves as a community lined the sides of the narrow passage, working on common forges to supply all the tools needed for daily life. They were comforting and serene, devoid of the danger she expected from a hidden place down in the depths.

“Maybe this was built earlier than above,” Tali murmured, running a hypersensitive hand across the carvings. “When there was still peace.” 

“Any idea what it contains?” Jarek asked. He seemed highly interested now that they were within the sanctum. “Perhaps there is something about a heartforge or a Spark here.”

Tali’s spirits lifted at the thought. “I hope so.”

The hall widened abruptly into a vast repository full of shelves, little cubby holes containing rolls of white, silken fabric. Tefia silk no doubt, given how often dwarves lived alongside the large arachnids, using them as mounts and beasts of burden. Tali couldn’t help a delighted cry at the sight.

“What?” Rhesis asked sharply.

“These are thema,” the dwarf explained. “Dwarves paint on them with charcoal, to map designs of projects and carvings, art and equations needed for construction. Even sometimes metallurgy. This is exactly what we need!”

“But you cannot see, Tali,” Jarek pointed out. 

She beamed. “Not right now. Give me a moment.” With that said, Tali scurried forward and gently removed one of the silken sheets from its place, heading for a large glass table at the far end of the room. “We’ll see if there’s a voruhm with any light left.”

“Light maker help?” Prideep said, pulling out his shattered piece of dwarven workmanship.

“That one is too broken for what I need,” Tali said, stretching the silk out over the table. She leaned behind it and felt the stone. A large crystal and metal lump protruded from the wall behind the angled table. Tali touched the glyphs with an expert hand, selecting symbols for a low white light.

The strange diamonds glowed to life, backlighting the designs painted in charcoal. Suddenly, the image was visible by contrast, black paint blocking light in some places and allowing it in others. Tali kept the glow low enough to not hurt their eyes, but bright enough for easy visibility.

“Have I mentioned your people are geniuses, Tali?” Jarek breathed. He seemed impressed, which boosted Tali’s confidence. “What is it?”

Tali moved around the table to study the design. It barely took her a moment to identify the machine it described. “A trip hammer, powered by a water mill,” she explained, carefully brushing fingertips along the line of the central spoke. “There was at least one in Lagarra, but I’d wager this one’s more efficient. We should put it in the bag.” 

“We can’t carry all this, even if we return with your golem,” Rhesis observed. Eiv was waiting outside and away a bit, watching vigilantly for any sign of hostility. He and his stone fists were the only things they had that could truly contend with a demon.

“We’ll take the most valuable ones now,” Tali said firmly. “We can always try to disrupt the defenses here enough that the deep dwarves can use this place as a hideout and hopefully a place of study.”

Jarek leaned forward to touch the dwarven numbers painted onto the cloth. “Difficult, with their illiteracy.”

Tali nodded thoughtfully at that. “They can learn. It just might take a while.” She scurried over to another shelf and pulled out its hoarded secret, bringing it to replace the one already on the back-lit table. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

There, painted in charcoal dye, was the figure of a golem, with detailed notes brushed into the cloth all around the designs. “Oh,” Tali managed, staring at the design for a gem meant to sit in the center of the stone as a heart would in a body. 

“Is that what it appears, Tali?” Rhesis asked. “I do not read, only speak.” 

“It’s instructions in creation for golems,” Tali said. She touched the image of the gem with suddenly trembling fingertips. Golems were powerful things, enough to combat demons and fiendish Chosen alike. “There’s even designs for an emet.” 

Prideep crept closer, frog-like feet quietly slapping on the stone. “Emet?” His question came out as a high-pitched cheep of curiosity.

“They say that emets are the key to making golems,” Tali said thoughtfully. “Geim used to help, though he never let anyone see his work. The stories say that they’re gems that hold the breath of life, the power that animates stone and metal to make it move like flesh.” 

“Could you make one following the instructions?” Jarek was practically dancing from foot to foot in excitement.

Tali ran her hands over the gem’s image. “I think so, though it might not be good enough. Also, we’d need a large, pure ruby.” She paused when she saw the script at the bottom.

To begin the beat of a gemstone heart, you sacrifice your future, a piece of the days of your life. Words of power followed the inscription, a chant of siphoning and binding in the language of gods. It burned itself into Tali’s mind just as the location of Tek’s Golden City guided her like a beacon.

So that was the secret of golem creation. The message rang clear to Tali: creation would shorten the years she had to live. It sent a current of cold down her spine for a moment.

Then she thought of Lagarra, the horrors of slavery and tyrrany with demonic overlords and ravenous cannibals holding the whips. She thought of Yari, the words of her friend resonating in her ears. I will fight until we are all free or I am cast into the fire and unmade. If Yari was willing to devote her entire life to the rescue of her people, couldn’t Tali?

The dwarf lifted her head, straightening her back. “If they were building golems, they might have a stockpile of gems.”

“You want to build some now?” Rhesis asked, startled by the sudden resolve in Tali’s voice.

“No, but those we can take with us,” Tali explained. “We’ll need plenty of stone and steel to build them too. Yari and Iolur will be able to find us a good supply once we find writings on steel-making. Help me look.” 

There were a number of glass tables with similar sources of light. Jarek had enough comprehension of dwarven writing to help Tali pour over the designs and calculations, though Tali knew much of it was lost on her necromancer friend. This was artifice in its purest form, and even with the weight of future golems on her mind, Tali felt the thrill of knowledge-seeking again. This was how dwarves were supposed to spend their lives: learning, practicing, perfecting.

She resolved inside herself not to mention the cost of shaping an emet to anyone, not while she was struggling with it herself. 

After hours of searching, folding and unfolding, Rhesis and Jarek had to sit down and slump against each other from the exhaustion of constant motion through the shelves. Tali stayed at her task, fueled by a mix of fascination and dwarven resilience. She needed less sleep than her companions, so she had time to continue herself. 

“Hero Gem Dwarf!” Prideep croaked, sonorous voice echoing down from a far, unexplored hall. 

Tali blinked. She hadn’t realized that Prideep had wandered off. Then again, with his camouflage and the stealth native to goblins, that was hardly a surprise. She left Rhesis and Jarek to set up camp, following the echoes of the goblin’s voice. A slow realization that her eyes and head were throbbing crept into Tali’s awareness, probably from the extended exposure to light. Sleep would help, as did the welcoming darkness.

Prideep waited outside a large steel door, currently propped open by an ingot of metal. “Opened buggrit!” the goblin announced proudly, pointing up at the complicated mechanism at the center of the door. It was two feet above his head, but with suctioned cup fingers and toes, climbing anything was never a problem. 

“How?” Tali asked, trying not to laugh. She clicked, sending out a sound to identify what Prideep had done to the lock.

It was packed with narrow fish bones warped to strange angles, no doubt pushed in by the inquisitive goblin. They were surprisingly strong lockpicks, apparently.

“Prideep opens many old doors,” the goblin explained proudly.

Tali beamed, hugging him to her side with one long arm. “What would we do without you, most magnificent of longshanks?” Prideep seemed to enjoy the title that Jarek had picked for him, so Tali used it often.

The goblin squeaked in laughter, shrill sounds popping out of his small body. “Hero Gem Dwarf would sit outside many closed doors.”

Tali poked her head through the doorway, clicking experimentally. The echoes came back as reflections off a pile of stones, raw and uncut crystals languishing in the dark. A knot formed in Tali’s throat as she cocked her head to better catch the sound. She was certain in every fiber of her being, even without checking stone composition using a gemcutter’s tools, that these were the rubies required for golem creation. “Good job, Prideep,” she murmured, that same trepidation creeping over her. “We can take some and see if we can find an artificer’s knife to carve them with.”

If the goblin noticed she was troubled, he gave no sign. His tongue darted out to moisten one bulging eye, inner lids half closing as he considered the proposition. “Hokay.” Without missing a beat, he stuffed as many stones into his satchel as would fit, which wasn’t many given that each was the size of a dwarven fist. 

Tali smiled despite herself, folding her shirt and taking some as well. If this will help, I will do it, she told herself fiercely, trying to channel Yari’s certainty. It was a price to pay, of course, but Jarek and Rhesis both said often that no power came without a price.

Together, they brought a dozen of the stones back to camp and dumped them carefully onto the floor. Rhesis stirred in her slumber, already curled up in her bedroll. Jarek was awake, his brow furrowed in concentration as he wove magical alarms into the weave of existence around their camp so nothing would approach unannounced. He blinked at the sudden clattering, jarred out of his focus. 

“My, you have a king’s ransom there,” Jarek said brightly. “I know sovereigns who would march an army for gems like those, especially when cut.”

“They’ll help,” Tali said, taking the small diamond that she’d shaped to two points out of a roughly made pocket. Lekt had given it back for the moment, a sign of his hope for good luck. At least, so he’d said. Tali scratched the stone with it, estimating hardness based on experience and the resistance posed by the gem. “Probably ruby or sapphire.” 

“Put it on the table,” Jarek said. “I can see color, my friend.” 

Tali almost gaped at him. “Really? What is it like?” Her vision was shades of grey and dim at that, barely able to perceive even in the presence of light. She knew skyborn prized different stones based on how they refracted light, but she only knew how to polish and cut them to shines that most displayed that nature.

“Do you ever have simple questions, Tali?” Jarek said with a chuckle, scooting closer to peer at the gem in her hands. “The magic I use to allow vision in the dark maintains my ability to notice color. As for what color is...do dwarves not see it?”

Tali shook her head fervently. “Never.”

Jarek rubbed at his stubbled jaw. “How to explain?” he mumbled thoughtfully. After a moment, he smiled. “Some colors are warm, like a low bed of coals. Some are cool, like rushing waters. Others are subtle and hidden like shadows. Some gleam like polished mirrors, others steal light like thieves. My favorites are green, like the blades of growing grass and the leaves of trees.” 

“I don’t know what grass looks like,” Tali admitted. “Or trees.” 

“Like mushrooms, but with many branches and tiny, soft caps,” the necromancer said, leaning back slightly. There was an unusual softness to his tone. “They seek the sun’s warmth and cast comfortable shade on the ground below.”

Tali tried to picture it in her mind. “What do they feel like?” 

“The trunks—stalks—are rough on the outside and hard, used for building. The leaves or needles depend on the type of plant. They rustle in the breezes and make soft, wispy sounds in slight zephyrs.” 

The dwarf was quiet as she tried to imagine the textures and sounds. After a long moment, she asked her most burning question. “Why green?”

Jarek stilled, measuring his answer. A sigh slipped from his lips. “My wife loved her garden,” he said quietly. “So much so that I bought her emerald earrings in the shape of leaves for a wedding present.” 

The crack in his voice on the word ‘wife’ told Tali everything she needed to know in that moment. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. 

The necromancer shook his head. “I don’t mind, Tali. It’s...good, to remember the better days.” 

Tali cocked her head at that statement. “What was her name?”

“Evzeni.” Her name sounded like a prayer. Jarek hummed wistfully before continuing. “You would have loved her, Tali. She was like one of your gems: strong, brilliant, gorgeous, and full of so many hidden facets.”

The dwarf settled in comfortably, seated cross-legged on her bedroll. Jarek’s story was blissful relief from the weighty thoughts that surrounded her. “How did you meet?”

Jarek chuckled. “At one of those awfully tedious events. I was in attendance at the behest of my lord. She was a terribly bored noblewoman who stole my hat.” He smiled fondly. “I never did find it, but I found her. A trade weighted infinitely in my favor.” 

Tali knew nothing of nobles, but it didn’t really matter. She could hear the joy in Jarek’s voice with a much warmer sound than even his usual levity.

“Being third daughter in her family, no one much raised a fuss when we married. After all, her family would have quite the claim on me and any mage children.” Jarek’s entire aspect darkened, like passing from the Lands of Tek into the cold desolation of the Deep. “They almost had exactly what they wished.”

“What do you mean?” Tali asked with care. She hesitated in his silence and added, “You don’t have to tell me if it hurts too much, Jarek.” 

His lips twisted into an expression of pure pain. “Mage children are dangerous to bear, Tali. They can manipulate life without knowing, drain vitality with a touch,” Jarek said quietly. “My son took too much, but not enough to save himself.” 

Tali’s heart twisted for her friend. “Is that why you want to talk to the dead, Jarek?”

He nodded and whispered, “I need to tell her, tell them both, that I am sorry.”

The dwarf had no idea how to commune with the dead beyond the memories of a heartforge, but in that moment she wanted to know more than ever. “It’s not your fault, Jarek.” 

He turned his head to regard his companion thoughtfully. “Thank you, Tali,” he said softly. “But here we must agree to disagree.”

She set the stone on the glowing table so that its color could shine brightly. She knew even without perceiving the shade, just by the sound of Jarek's soft intake of breath, that it was green.