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thick, his side whiskers are auburn, and his beard, when he is allowed to grow it after his marriage, will most certainly match. He has already attained the rank of fourclan master, a high honor for an unmarried dwarf. 7
    The soldiers, at a word from their marshall, brought their arms—axes, the favored weapon—up in salute, whirled them around, and thudded the axheads on the ground.
    I noted that Hartmut handled his ax with far greater dexterity than any other dwarf in his clan. This boded well for the future since ax-throwing, chopping, and ducking determine the winner of the marriage contest.
    My mother caught hold of my sleeve, gave it a sharp tug.
    “Stop staring at that young man!” she whispered. “What will he think of you?”
    I obediently shifted my gaze to my father's broad back, but I was very much aware of passing close to Hartmut, who stood at the wharf's edge. And I heard him thump the head of the ax on the ground again, just for me.
    A small ceremonial platform had been erected for us at the bow of the flagship, lifting us above the crowd. We climbed up onto the platform. My father stepped forward. The audience, though it had never been making much noise, quieted immediately.
    “My family,” 8 began my father, clasping his hands over his broad stomach, “many and many Times have passed since our people have been forced to make the Sun Chase. Not even the eldest among us”—a respectful nod to an elderly dwarf, whose beard was yellow with age and who stood in the place of honor at the very forefront of the crowd—“can remember back to the time our people chased the seasun and landed on Gargan.”
    “My father could remember it,” piped up the old dwarf. “He made the journey when he was a little boy.”
    My father paused a moment, his thoughts scattered by the unexpected interruption. I looked over the heads of the crowd, back to the warren and its neat rows of bright-colored doors, and it occurred to me for the first time that I mustactually leave this land of my birth and travel to another land, a strange land, a land that would have no doors leading into the safe, dark sanctuary of the mountain.
    My eyes filled with tears. I lowered my head, ashamed to have anyone (particularly Hartmut) see me cry.
    “A new realm awaits us, a seamoon large enough for all three races—humans, elves, dwarves—to live on, each in our own separate realm, but each trading, working together, sharing to build a prosperous world.
    “The trip will be long,” my father continued, “and tiring. And when we arrive, we face backbreaking labor and toil to rebuild our homes and businesses. It will be difficult to leave Gargan. Much that we love and value must, of necessity, be left behind us. But that which we prize and cherish above all else, we take with us. And that is each other. We could leave behind everything, every coin, every stitch of clothing, every cooking pot and cradle and bed, and, because we have each other, the dwarven nation would arrive at its destination strong and prepared to go forth and establish our greatness on this new world!”
    My father, during his speech, had put his arm around my mother. My mother clasped hold of my hand. Our people cheered loudly. My tears dried.
    “As long as we have each other,” I said to myself. “As long as we are together, this new land will be our home.”
    I peeped shyly at Hartmut. His eyes were shining. He smiled at me, only for me. Everything was said between us in that look, that smile. The marriage contests can't be rigged, but most dwarves know the outcome in advance.
    My father spoke on, discussing how, for the first time in Chelestran history, humans and elves and dwarves would be making the Sun Chase together.
    In times past, we'd done the Sun Chase, of course, hastening after the seasun that drifts endlessly through the water that is our world. But then it had been the dwarves alone, fleeing the approaching longnight of ice that would slowly encase