The man they called Devorast had hair as red as Hrothgar’s own bushy eyebrows, but his beard was but a brown-red stubblethe sort of beard Hrothgar had sported when barely out of diapersthe same color as the dwarfs. “He could be a Deepcarver,” Hrothgar said to his cousin Vrengarl. “If he wasn’t so tall and lanky, that is.” The human’s big eyes were so dark brown they almost matched Hrothgar’s own beady black orbs. “He works like a Deepcarver,” Vrengarl replied. “You know, slow and clumsy.” Hrothgar suppressed a smile at the jibe and hefted his bulky stonehammer. “Did we come here to work,” Vrengarl asked, “or to stare at humans?” Hrothgar shrugged then swung his hammer down onto a steel wedge. The wedge split a block of stone and Hrothgar kept his eyes off Devorast long enough to appraise the cut. It was straight and trueworthy of a Deepcarver. “Judging by the shape of your blocks,” Hrothgar taunted his cousin in return, “it looks like you’ve come here to work like a human.”
