The Survivors by Dan Willis

dismissed so easily. With a roar of laughter, he pounded Bradok on the back so hard that the stool beneath him cracked ominously.
    “I like you!” the fellow said. “You’re different than most of the rest. You’re not afraid to say it like it is.”
    “Yes, I am,” Bradok said in a low voice he intended only for himself.
    “So you didn’t tell off those crooks on the city council,” the dwarf said matter-of-factly. “That’s all right by me. Being prudent with your tongue doesn’t make you a coward.”
    “How did you know that?” Bradok demanded, seizing the big dwarf by the arm.
    “That’s nothing.” Red-beard shrugged. “You’re that new councilman from the upper city. It stands to reason you wouldn’t want to say more than is prudent on your first day.”
    Bradok narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “That’s not what you said. You said something about … me disagreeing with the council,” he finished. He scratched his head. What
had
the red-bearded dwarf said? He wasn’t sure. His head was clouded with drink.
    The big dwarf grinned sympathetically at him. “You’ve got an honest face,” he said. “It’s the kind of face you only get from hard work and fair value. I can respect a face like that.”
    Bradok couldn’t hold the penetrating gaze of the red-bearded dwarf’s crystal blue eyes. The dwarf’s eyes seemed to look into the very depths of his soul, and Bradok turned away before they found the thing that all the ale in the bar couldn’t drown.
    “I’m not worthy of anyone’s respect,” Bradok mumbled, motioning to the barmaid for a fresh mug.
    “Why is that?”
    Bradok frowned. Why, indeed? Because what he suspected about Arbuckle and Bladehook made Bradok shudder just to think of it. He no longer doubted that the lists he had been innocently drawing up for the council were intended for some kind of drastic action against the believers. Bradok himself didn’t care a whit for the believers, but it just wasn’t, well—dwarflike.
    “Are you a believer?” Bradok suddenly asked the big dwarf, daring to look into those probing eyes for a moment.
    The big dwarf laughed. “My name is Erus,” he said, raising his mug to Bradok. “And you might say I’m the ultimate believer.”
    “Then I suggest you leave Ironroot while you can,” Bradok said glumly, staring into his mug. “Take anyone you love and get out.”
    If Bradok’s warning fazed the big dwarf, he gave no sign.
    “So you think that anti-preaching law was just the beginning?” the red-bearded dwarf said in a conspiratorial tone. “That there’s more to come?”
    “Something like that,” Bradok said.
    “What about you? Are you a believer?” Erus asked.
    The question almost made Bradok laugh. Then, all of a sudden, he felt like weeping, which was all the more surprising.
    “I don’t know what I am,” he said finally. “I’m not sure what I believe.”
    “That’s gutless,” Erus declared, taking another drink.
    Bradok looked up at the dwarf sharply, intending to protest, even to challenge him to a fight, but the dwarf’s accusing gaze froze the words in his throat. The dwarf’s eyes appraised him for a long time, their depths hard and flat. Bradok wanted to glance away, to look anywhere else, but those eyes held himfast, as surely as a vice. Then Erus blinked and looked away, accepting the fresh tankard the barmaid had mechanically brought him.
    “Let me tell you something, Bradok,” he said, taking the fresh drink and tackling it with gusto. “There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to make a choice. When that happens, you can’t stay on the sidelines; you have to enter the fray.”
    “There! You’ve done it again. How do you know so much about me? How do you know my name?” Bradok asked.
    “It doesn’t matter,” Erus said, setting his cup on the bar and leaning closer to Bradok. “When the time comes that you are forced to choose which side you’re going to be on, I think it would